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catofadifferentcolor · 6 months

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Terrible Fic Idea #67: Game of Thrones, but double the irony

My absolute favorite thing in media is when you're presented with a truth at the beginning of the work and, somewhere near the end, the creeping irony of the situation catches up and grabs hold of you until you can no longer breathe. The Boy-Who-Lived must die sort of thing. So naturally I had the thought: how can I add another layer of dramatic irony to Game of Thrones?

Or: What if Rhaegar's bastard daughter and Robert Baratheon's bastard son fell in love?

Aka: The Queen of Nightingales Fic

Just imagine it:

Lyanna Stark dies giving birth to a daughter who takes after her in nearly every respect but the eyes, which are so dark a purple as to be almost black. She bleeds out before she can even name the child, and so her brother names the babe Jenny Snow.

Jenny's childhood follows closely to canon. She is, perhaps a little more tolerated by Lady Catelyn for being less of a direct threat to Robb's inheritance, but otherwise her bastardy allows her to get away with things a lady never could. She learns swordplay along with the needle, but her greatest talent is her voice, which is said to be so lovely even nightingales would pause to listen to her song.

When King Robert comes to visit, Jenny doesn't need to be told to hide away. Unfortunately, her voice carries and she's soon brought before the royal couple to entertain them.

Robert, being Robert, cares less about her singing than the fact she looks like his lost love reborn, but has just enough morals not to force himself on his best friend's daughter. Instead he orders Ned to bring her south and spends the remainder of his life failing to seduce her.

This naturally earns Jenny few friends at court, save for those who value music above all things - who call her Lady Nightingale.

Canon continues apace, with Ned losing his head with both Arya and Jenny in the audience. They're separated in the chaos, with Jenny being taken north by the Night's Watch in the guise a boy and Arya stowing away aboard a ship bound for Braavos.

On the long, circuitous journey, Jenny becomes fast friends with another Night's Watch recruit, Gendry Waters, who eventually learns her secret.

Realizing that continuing to try to head north is only going to get them killed, they run away together. Gendry finds work as blacksmith near Saltpans. Jenny gets work at the local inn. Though they say nothing to the effect, many of the townsfolk believe they eloped together after their parents refused them permission to wed. They don't intend to pose as a married couple either, but fall together on the journey in a soft, destined sort of way that has maidens cooing for the greater part of the next millennium.

The war, however, goes badly. Stannis doesn't resort to using magic to kill his brother, so there are five armies tearing apart Westeros and borders shift daily. Two years into their stay at Saltpans - just a handful of months after Jenny has given birth to her first son, - Renly gains control of the area. Jenny is once again dragged off to entertain a king, but insists that her family be brought along.

A few months later Renly dies of dysentery, putting the Tyrells in a bad spot. Things have gone on too long for them to easily go back on their position that 1) Joffrey is a bastard born of incest, 2) Stannis is a madman and heretic, and 3) Robb and Balon are treasonous upstarts. They can make the claim Margery is still a virgin, but after 2+ years most are going to think they're trying to cover up infertility if they play that card, and she's the only card they have left to play.

Except: All anyone has to do is take one look at Gendry and see a young Robert Baratheon. And all anyone has to do is take one look at his wife and see a Stark - and if they paint a pretty enough picture they can claim her voice came from Rhaegar, making her the rightful Targaryen heir. They're young, untrained bastards. They'll make perfect puppets and allow the Tyrells to rule in all but name.

It's an audacious plan - but it works, if not precisely as the Tyrells plan. Yes, Gendry would rather be in the forge, but Jenny was raised a duty-loving Stark. And while their heir ends up marrying a Tyrell, the Tyrells never gain quite the power the Lannisters once had.

The War of Five Kings ends with the remnants of Renly's forces joining Robb's army and deserters and Joffrey's. They take King's Landing, install their new rulers, and have just long enough to bring in one good harvest before The Others descend. The war takes many good men Westeros can't afford to lose, but ends after Jenny makes peace with Stannis long enough to bolster their forces for one final battle - which, for Stannis, is Redemption Equals Death.

Jenny never quite buys that she's Rhaegar's daughter, thinking all the evidence that crops up through the years has been manufactured by the Tyrells, but there is little doubt Gendry is Robert's son. Jenny does most of the ruling under the name Jaehaera II while Gendry - Gaemon I - is as content to let her do the heavy lifting. It's far from perfect, but is wildly acknowledged to be the best rule the country as seen since Aegon the Unlikely.

Bonuses include: 1) The softest, gentlest, friends to lovers that can be imagined for Jenny and Gendry, with the soft, tentative friendship formed heading north as Night's Watch recruits turning into best friends turning into first crushes into first kisses into first loves. They should get each other in a way that makes it clear that even without romance they would be platonic soulmates, and are just short of disgustingly in love; 2) Tolkien levels of musical inclusion, to the point of being genuinely obnoxious; and 3) All of their children having the Baratheon look, save for the last - twins Daena and Rhaena, the first of which was born with pale lilac eyes and the latter with a bright golden streak down the middle of her black hair.

And that's all I have for this plot bunny. As always, feel free to adopt, just link back if you do anything with it.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

#plot bunny #fic idea #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #got #asoiaf #jon snow #jon snow is a targaryen #female jon snow #gendry waters #gendry baratheon #house baratheon #house stark #house targaryen #targaryen restoration

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the-king-andthe-lionheart · 1 year

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This fanon notion that Ned was a bad father to Sansa is absolutely ridiculous and not remotely based in canon. Like Sansa stans are just mad that Ned didn’t mistreat Arya because Sansa stans hate Arya and want everyone to treat Arya like shit

Exactly @daenerysthevampireslayerr

They can't stand that Arya is one of the Key Five and is important to the story. They also can't stand that she's in GRRM's top 3 favorite characters. And because Sansa isn't among these groupings, they are ridiculously jealous and believe that Arya deserves to be punished. It's also why whenever a character shows love or loyalty towards Arya, treats her like a human being, or a plot is about her, or she does something good and heroic or political, they erase her. Jon deserts the NW and dies for Arya? Erased. LSH and the BWB+Gendry are glaringly obviously looking for Arya? Erased. Brienne's quest about finding Sansa leads her on a journey following Arya's path and learning more about Arya's fate after her escape from KL? Erased. The Northerner's rising up in Ned's and Arya's names? Erased. Arya successfully pulling off a coup in Harrenhal that wins the castle for Robb? Erased. Arya hearing Ned's voice (not Bran's voice) through the weirwood at Harrenhal that gives her the strength to try to escape? Erased. Arya saving 4 people from a burning barn, including a toddler she later cares for? Erased. Arya being the second most powerful skinchanger after Bran? Erased. Arya learning all the same skills as Varys? Erased.

The fandom just loves erasing Arya's importance, her themes, her actual arc, her intelligence, the political skills she is learning, and the context in which she does things, just so they can prop other characters like Sansa up. But it's so pervasive that they've convinced so many other fans of this too, and it didn't help that we have misogynistic dudebros and incels in this fandom who overly criticize Arya for things that they applaud in the male characters. Like seriously, Arya has done nothing worse than what Ned has done, but which one in the fandom is deemed "good" and "honorable"? Ned.

But what's funny about these people is how they clearly can't read. The reason why Ned kept talking to Arya, is because he was blaming her for the fights with Sansa, and thought that Arya was the problem when it came to Septa Mordane. He was admonishing her. The reason why he got Arya water dancing lessons was to keep her busy, and he obviously knew it would be a good outlet that would teach Arya to focus her anger, and gain more discipline and patience. He never intended on the lessons to go far. He thought it was a phase she would grow out of before conforming into a southern lady. The reason why he said Syrio could come to Winterfell with them, but that Sansa couldn't say good-bye to Joffrey, is because Syrio wasn't a freaking Lannister, and the point of them leaving secretly had to do with the Lannister's being dangerous. But apparently that's favoritism and it means he didn't love Sansa? Even if Arya was his favorite, he clearly loved Sansa enough to think Sansa was well-behaved enough that she would never dare be the instigator towards Arya.

They want Arya severely punished in this story, but it's not even just Ned they want to punish her. Lately I've even been seeing disturbing things about them wanting Gendry to rape her. Imagine wanting a 12 year old to be raped or sexually assaulted, even a fictional one. It's disgusting and it's unhinged. They want Arya to suffer unimaginable torments but as soon as someone mentions an ending for Sansa that doesn't include Sansa being queen and having a Disney fairy tale ending they shriek and cry and send death threats. And I'm not even talking about people theorizing that Sansa will go dark or die by the end. I'm talking about people getting ulcers from the mere suggestion of Sansa ending the series in an arranged marriage and that she might have to seek love outside of her marriage considering GRRM loves tragic romances. But no, Arya and Dany are the special punching bags in this fandom, who deserve horrible things done to them, for... *checks notes*: "Doing the exact same things the male characters are doing and being praised for".

#arya stark #anti sansa stans

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mysticnightmarewrites · 6 months

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Gendrya Kinktober 2023 Day 14: Rough Sex

It started when they heard thumping on the wall Gendry shared with Pod.

“Is that Pod?” Arya asked sleepily, lifting her head off of Gendry’s chest.

“Looks like someone’s getting lucky at 2 a.m. Should we go over there and tell him we’re trying to prep for finals?”

“You’re so bad, Gendry Waters.”

“If you say so.” In one smooth motion, Gendry rolled over on top of her.

His naked skin pressing into hers sent a pulse of want through her, and suddenly going back to sleep seemed not as important anymore.

“Am I getting lucky now?” Arya asked, sliding her thigh up his side.

“You’re always lucky, Arry. You met me, didn’t you?”

There was something about the normally self-conscious man when he started getting cocky that really did it for Arya. She slid her hands over his muscled back, only for Gendry to push them back over her head, pinning them to the headboard.

“Shame I lost those handcuffs,” he said, starting to trail kisses down her neck. “You’ll just have to be a good girl for me, won’t you?”

“When have I ever been a good girl?”

Her words seemed to light a fire in him. He straddled her then and moved up her body, his cock hanging over her mouth, the tip just brushing her lips.

“If you’re so bad, suck it then.”

Arya wrapped her lips around the head, and Gendry slid it in faster than she expected, but he pulled it back just as quickly, giving her a chance to breathe.

Every thrust into her mouth seemed to match the unrelenting rhythm of the thumping coming from the other side of the wall.

It didn’t feel like he could get any deeper into her throat when he finally pulled away.

Knowing exactly what he wanted and eager to have his cock inside her, Arya turned over onto her hands and knees. Her throat was sore, and she couldn’t wait to be sore in other places.

The sound had stopped, and all Arya could hear was her own labored breathing.

Gendry brought his tip to her entrance, playing with her clit, getting her wetter and wetter for him. It wasn’t until the pounding returned that he slammed inside her.

“You like hearing Pod fuck, don’t you?” she asked, breathlessly.

“Yes.” It came out almost imperceptibly with a moan as he gripped her hips and pulled her back into him with all the force he knew she could take.

“Bet you’ve been thirsting for him since the day he came over to tell us to be quiet because we were fucking too loud. Bet you liked how worked up we got him.”

Every word seemed to drive Gendry wilder and wilder, and he fucked into her so hard, she had to grab onto the headboard for dear life.

“Looks like the cam guy.” Gendry slowed and held Arya’s hips tight, not allowing for the slight chance his cock could slip out. “The hair. His shoulders. I keep watching him and pretending it’s Pod. I can’t take it.”

Arya grabbed Gendry’s phone from his table and quickly brought up his OnlyBrans account and started playing the livestream that was currently running on his favorite account, and set it to silent so Gendry could still hear the sound of Pod either fucking someone into oblivion or being fucked into oblivion himself.

Gendry’s eyes were glued to the screen, but his hands were still glued to her as he started rocking into her once again. As much as she knew he was picturing Pod’s body and all the things he wanted to do to him, watching the cam guy getting absolutely wrecked by a man whose face was just out of the shot, he needed her. Arya had come to realize she liked being needed.

Every thrust, both on the screen and within herself, drove her higher alongside him, and she also started picturing Pod the way Gendry saw him. The pounding sound on the other side of the door seemed to match the thrusting on screen, driving her imagination wild. For a moment, she thought about what it’d be like if Pod was the one fucking her, what it would be like if the guy in the livestream, who was furiously rubbing his cock while being fucked from behind, was fucking her.

“Break me, Gendry,” she begged, pushing back harder and harder into him, and Gendry started pounding into her with more force than he ever had before, his fingers leaving bruises all along her ribs and hips.

Suddenly, the cam guy’s face came into camera for the very first time. “Fuck!” Gendry shouted, spilling his seed inside Arya, as he looked straight into the face of his neighbor.

Arya came, only realizing she hadn’t been imagining Pod’s face once the pleasure had finished wracking through her body.

“Is that Pod?”

#arya x gendry #gendrya #gendrya kinktober #kinktober 2023 #gendrya kinktober 2023 #arya stark #gendry #kinktober

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tessimagines · 1 year

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Types of works you can request:

Drabble (open)

200-600 word imagine story. Specific plots or just a character and theme (fluff, angst, etc...) can be requested

Headcanon (open)

Series of bullet points describing a situation. For example, dating Jon Snow would include or showing Jon Snow affection would include. Broader topics will be longer while more specific ones will be shorter.

Reaction (open)

How a character or characters (max of 5) will react to a specific situation. For example, how Jaime Lannister, Sandor Clegane and Jorah Mormont would react to being praised.

Fandoms/Characters you can request for:

❤ = Tess’ Faves

Game of Thrones

Jon Snow ❤

Robb Stark

Ned Stark ❤

Arya Stark

Sansa Stark

Theon Greyjoy

Jaime Lannister ❤

Tyrion Lannister

Sandor Clegane ❤

Tormund Giantsbane

Jorah Mormont

Oberyn Martell

Gendry Waters

Podrick Payne

Brienne of Tarth

Margaery Tyrell

Danaerys Targaryen

Harry Potter

Ron Weasley

Hermione Granger

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Bill Weasley ❤

Charlie Weasley

Ginny Weasley

Neville Longbottom

Draco Malfoy

Cedric Diggory ❤

Sirius Black ❤

Remus Lupin ❤

James Potter

Severus Snape

The Last of Us

Joel Miller ❤

How to make a request:

Please leave requests in my ask box here

You can request publicly or anonymously

Please note, I do write longer length imagines but these are not open for request. You can find all of my work in my Masterlist

Now request away!

#games of thrones imagines #harry potter imagines #game of thrones x reader #harry potter x reader #game of thrones headcanons #harry potter headcanons #jon snow x reader #ned stark x reader #jaime lannister x reader #robb stark x reader #oberyn martell x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #george weasley x reader #severus snape x reader

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

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snow falls hot | part 9.

Summary: (Y/N) Snow isn’t a Snow at all. She’s a Targaryen— Rhaegar’s child. Taken in by the Starks, she leads her life as another on of Ned’s bastards. Will she be able to live in Westeros comfortably? More importantly, does she have any ambition to see herself one day on the Iron Throne?

Warnings: it’s game of thrones…

Pairing: gendry x reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

The almost three years spent in Old Valyria:

Seven sparrows took flight. People in the streets ran from them as they attempted to attack. Pecking at anything in sight, the birds didn’t cease in their assaults. As if possessed, all at once the birds stopped. They began to caw in distress until green bile was coughed up from their beaks. The green ran through the streets, getting caught in the cracks of the cobblestone.

Eddard’s crying woke you up. You were up in an instant as were Grey Wind and Shadow. Cooing to calm your baby down, you grabbed the little bit of fruit left and mushed it like before. The four of you had slept in the entrance way of the citadel that night after having done some initial looking around. Eddard grabbed at the wooden spoon and you let him have it. The baby seemed determined to feed himself. Lots missed his mouth but he whined when you tried to take the spoon away.

“You’re just as stubborn as your father. But Robb listened to me, you know.”

That didn’t move Eddard to give you the spoon. Instead, he squealed in delight and banged the spoon against your leg a few times. He finished eating and you cleaned him up. Shadow and Grey Wind left again, not that you minded. It was good they felt free to explore, that’s what you and Eddard intended to do. You wanted to explore the citadel more but finding supplies was more important. Some of the buildings were covered in layers of ash, others fairly pristine despite the catastrophe.

You imagined furniture and other supplies would still be there though. Eddard needed a small crib of his own and you needed blankets so Grey Wind and Shadow wouldn’t feel forced to wrap around the two of you at night. When it came to food, you realized that would not be much of a problem. Shadow could fly out to get sheep and other animals from wherever she flew off to. Birds, hares, and climbing goats for Grey Wind existed in the forest. The trees scattered about that weren’t a part of the forestry grew fruit. Wild vegetables could probably be found somewhere and the waters below held fish— you would just have to learn how to fish.

With Eddard propped on a hip, you finally followed your animals out of the citadel entrance. The first bridge connecting buildings was to your left. The building it led to seemed larger than life with two large dragon statues at the entrance. The palace, with a doubt, that’s what it was. You approached the bridge.

It looked to be in good condition but looks could be deceiving. You did not come all the way to Old Valyria just to die by cliff fall. You looked around to see a chunk of dragonglass that was almost the size of Eddard— harder than glass but the same clear with a green tint as some ale bottles, the dragonglass was part of the debris that flew from volcanoes during the Doom.

You tossed the glass once in your hand before throwing it across the bridge. When nothing happened, you began to walk across. Every time you reached the glass you would throw it again. You were only maybe one or two tosses away. The dragonglass glided across the bridge and suddenly vanished. You waited but never heard the splash of it landing in water, confirming how high up you actually were. Carefully, you walked to the spot where it had fallen. There was a small gap before the ground in front of the palace. It was jumpable. Covering Eddard’s eyes with your hand, you lept.

The dragon statues were even larger up close. Unlike the citadel, the doors were still intact. The dragon statue to the right was not— one of the wings was broken off. You pushed on the doors and they easily opened. It didn’t appear anything was locked. Eddard squirmed in your arms. You set him down and held both of his hands as he tried to walk, forcing you to bend over in an awkward position as he toddled forward.

You remembered when all the younger Stark siblings were babies. Especially Arya, Bran, and Rickon who were born when you had become old enough to want to help take care of them. It had taken Rickon and Arya very long to walk. Bran was fairly fast— according to Maester Luwin, the quickest baby he had ever seen. From the looks of it, Eddard might end up like Bran. His steps were fairly certain and you anticipated letting him be able to walk on his own before you left Valyria. Or at least only have to hold one of his hands instead of both.

The little lord was rising up to his nickname as he dictated where the two of you would go first in the palace. He moved into the heart of the palace. You looked around as you held onto him and followed. It was so similar yet so different to Westeros. The Realm had so much to learn from. You loved the high windows of the place. Eddard led you into the throne room— the overwhelming chair staring you down. It was covered in ash, a chunk of volcanic rock sitting in it. When you looked up, you could see a hole in the ceiling.

So far, most things were covered in dragonglass or ash. Not many large rocks and you began to think the Doom was less about boulders and more about magic. The ash must have done something to them. Whatever it was, you wouldn’t know. The winds had blown away many layers of ash and you suspected skeletons broke down and were blown away with it.

You and Eddard stopped when a pale figure sat on the rock in the chair. A ghost. She stepped down from the chair, pushing her crown back up as she did. You were as stiff as wood when she approached. She circled you a couple times before stopping in front with a large smile.

“That dye can’t hide you from the eyes of spirits. A Targaryen has returned.”

“Do I know you?”

“I would hope not, otherwise you look very well for your age,” the ghost laughed. “Your House wasn’t the strongest here. But they had the best dragons, always Hand to the King or Queen. Now you rule your own across the Narrow Sea.”

“I don’t yet.”

“But you plan to?”

She knelt down to reach out at Eddard. You thought your son would cry but instead he simply stared at the ghost. She ran a hand through his loose curls— his hair was more like Robb’s. You were surprised to see that a ghost could physically touch him.

“He is not just Targaryen… neither are you.”

“His father hailed from North of Westeros, a descendant of First Men— he is a Stark before he is of my line. My father is a Targaryen, my mother from Dorne but her father from the island of Naath.”

“So your mother was a bastard?”

“I don’t know, it’s unclear if my grandparents married. Dorne has interesting concepts about what constitutes a bastard.”

You both turned your heads at the screeching outside. Your dragon had come, for once without you calling to her. Shadow entered the building with ease— the buildings of Valyria meant to be big enough for some dragons to enter. Her claws clicked against the stone and her tails moved ash and dust as she walked in. She bent her head to be by you, staring the ghost down with smoke constantly pouring from her nose and her eyes like slits.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never seen her behave like this before.”

“Dragons are not fans of the dead realm.”

“Shadow, calm yourself.”

“Shadow?” the ghost asked.

“Yes, I named her that because… because she’s black like a night’s shadow.”

Your dragon’s eyes got narrower as the ghost reached out a hand to touch your cheek instead.

“Azor Ahai,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry?”

“Dragons came from a land on the outskirts of Essos in a city called Asshai. They were tamed by people so ancient we don’t have a name. The city, its people, and everything there was known as the Shadow. They had stories, the same story that has spread through the known world of a hero with a hero’s sword. That hero saved the world once and R’hollar will rebirth them again so they may lead a great number into battle and stop the Dark Night once more…”

“The Night King,” you muttered, understanding more about your own dreams. “Winter is coming.”

“Cold follows the Dark Night wherever it goes.”

“That’s a saying in Westeros. The Starks have said it since before time itself, perhaps the first men knew. A lesser known phrase meant to warn.”

“Many Houses try to forget the cold that came, others keep sayings to ensure their descendants know what is coming.”

“My House has one, it was made after they left Valyria. The dragon has three heads.”

“There are three living Targaryens by birth, one who has connection to all continents of the known world. With a living shadow behind her.” The woman bent the knee. “Azor Ahai, I am staring at the princess promised.”

The ghost faded as the wind blew. Shadow puffed out more smoke before snaking into another area of the castle. You and Eddard moved to the staircase near. Your heart dropped and a shrill gasp left your mouth when Eddard stepped on the first step and almost fell through the weak spot— lucky you were holding onto both of his arms. You quickly scooped him up and held a hand to your heart, laughing at the near heart attack. You cradled his head, pressing kisses to him.

“Mama will take the stairs. Okay, Ned?”

You tapped your foot along the first step. There were no more weak spots on it. With each step, you tested it and punched your foot through the weak spots so as to already have the holes marked out. When you reached the top, you spotted a doll. Gently picking it up, you examined it and gave it to Eddard. People had been in the middle of their daily lives when the Doom hit, they barely had time to flee— the ones that could. Peering into the first room, you saw it belonged to children.

“Look, Eddard!”

You set the boy down in a little wagon. The rest of the day was spent gathering supplies from the palace and placing them in the wagon. You cleared stiff sheets off of beds and took little toys for Eddard. Books left on the nightstands of adult rooms you also took with you.

It took a minute when you reached the bridge to cross. All the stuff from the wagon had to be thrown over to the other side, then the actual wagon itself. After you leapt with Eddard back across, you had to load everything up again and then could take a stroll home. Grey Wind greeted you with a rabbit in his mouth. You set Eddard down by the wolf who began to eat his meal.

“Watch him, Grey Wind. Shadow!”

She appeared within moments. You took a lined basket for water collection as well as the stiff sheets and mounted your dragon.

“We will be right back.”

Shadow dove, barely stopping before hitting the water. You threw the sheets in front of you for Shadow to catch. Grabbing them in her mouth, she dipped the sheets in the water over and over again. You gasped when the wet sheets hit you, suspecting that Shadow did that as payback for having her do your chores. Shadow flew over to somewhere she must have been exploring earlier— a large waterfall pouring from one of the cliffs. It was large but calm, so smooth it almost looked like it wasn’t moving. You stuck out the basket until it was full of water.

Eddard and Grey Wind hadn’t moved from where you and Shadow had left them. The only difference was the rabbit Grey Wind had been gnawing on was now just bone. You poured some of the water into another basket you had collected and pushed it towards Grey Wind. The sheets wouldn’t be usable that night so you threw them over some tree branches to dry off. Looking around at the ruins, you could see how beautiful Valyria once was. That beauty you wanted to bring to Westeros— you would bring to Westeros.

~~~

A boat sailed away through water that was almost ice. A man that looked like Jon watched with fear on his face. There were a few boats, not just his, full of people. They were in furs but not Northerners that you recognized. They all looked on as ice and snow blew over the docks they had just left. Skeletal hands poked out through the snow.

You woke up and sent a prayer to the Old Gods of Winterfell to protect Jon. Jon and his friends, new subjects of the Seven Kingdoms. Satisfied with your prayer for him, you checked on Eddard and then went back to sleep.

~~~

The weapons building was beautiful. Your fingers dusted over everything as you walked around. You stopped when your eyes landed upon various saddles. Of course the dragon riders would eventually saddle their beasts. You and Shadow spent a least half an hour trying on saddles until the dragon slapped the ground when discovering the one she liked— Eddard who had been wrapped in cloth on your back was happy to babble his opinions before falling asleep halfway through.

Shadow was saddled, now easier for you to ride. You took another saddle, wanting it mainly for the strap, and also collected all the bows and arrows you could find. You planned on creating a weapons belt to wrap around your dragon.

When you returned to the citadel to get to work, Grey Wind placed his head in your lap. He watched in intrigued as you used the daggers to cut holes in the leather and took rope to try and combine the various quivers to the long belt. The arrows wouldn’t be able to stay in just like that, you had figured that out while you were attaching the first quiver to the belt. You had a solution or what you hoped would be one. You planned to tie lids onto the quiver out of either rabbit’s skin or sheep skin depending on if Grey Wind or Shadow hunted first. You would just stab the arrows through and be able to pull one out in the heat of battle without risking all the rest falling to the ground.

~~~

Diamonds and other jewels glittered in the palace coiffers. As well as heaps of gold. It was more than enough to give back to the farmer’s family. It was enough to pay the Iron Bank who under the Baratheons were owed a lot of money by the Crown. Your first concern was for the family that took such good care of you and Eddard. You only took the riches for them. You would fly back later with Shadow to pay the debt to the Iron Bank.

~~~

Grey Wind gave you a mix between a snort and a growl— something you assumed to be the dire wolf’s best form of a grumble. He was tired, you felt it. After every session he was tired. But you were determined to learn how to warg into him. The two of you clunked your heads together and you closed your eyes to try once more. It worked for a moment. A moment was enough, more than you had ever done before. You would keep trying until it was longer than a moment but for now it was important to let Grey Wind rest. You closed your eyes as well, needing a moment to recharge.

It was a girl. She grabbed at her face and peeled at it off as if she was wearing a mask. You watched her pull through many faces. Men, women, old, young, with Northern features and with features of people from Naath and the Summer Isles until the face stopped on Robb.

~~~

The fish mocked you. You were sure of it as you tried to throw another spear from the back of Shadow. Commanding your dragon to leave, you abandoned the spears and the fish and moved to old targets of the training field. You pushed Shadow to go as fast as you could handle while aiming arrows. You hadn’t forgotten what you were taught while in King’s Landing but on the back of a moving creature wasn’t the easiest. You and Shadow worked out a comfortable speed that you could still shoot with accuracy.

~~~

The egg tower looked the least like your dream. The architecture was the same and there was a large book in the center of the room. But there were no eggs— not even fossils. You looked at Shadow who gave you a small puff of fire in response. With a large sigh, you climbed onto her back and grabbed a horn— you decided that she wouldn’t be saddled unless it was time to fight. You both returned to the ground where both Eddard and Grey Wind were asleep, the baby resting on the wolf. You petted Shadow.

“Do you know where Asshai is, Shadow? Where the Jade Sea meets the Saffron Straits? There are dragon eggs there. If I tie a basket to you, will you collect some from me?”

Shadow didn’t move and you knew you could take that as a yes. You did as you said and tied a basket to her leg. With a quick command to go, the dragon was off. You warged into her to see her start of the journey. You weren’t sure when Shadow would be back— this would be the true test of how far you could warg into her. She would be back and hopefully with eggs. Eggs you would bring back to Westeros.

~~~

It was Winterfell. You longed to be back. But it wasn’t the Winterfell you knew, it was older. Not by much but by enough that Ned and Benjen Stark were young boys nearing men. The place seemed just as lively as before.

“Wylis!”

You recognized the voice of Old Nan. When your eyes found her, like everyone else, she was younger. The boy Wylis— a name you hadn’t heard in all your years in the North— came running. He was tall, towering over the other kids his age in the courtyard. And he had adorable chubby cheeks with brown hair. You couldn’t think of anyone that looked like him that Old Nana talked to when you were in Winterfell. Maybe this Wylis left before Ned became Warden in the North. Suddenly Wylis dropped to the ground, shaking and mumbling. You wanted to help and even made a move to when you stopped at the sight in front of you.

“Bran?”

The boy, no longer a boy, looked at you. He seemed shocked to see you there. Bran opened his mouth to speak when you both turned your heads at Wylis yelling.

“Hold the door!”

His eyes went white. You had years of experience to recognize what warging looked like. Hold the door became more muddled as poor Wylis shook. Whatever he was seeing through the warg was clearly affecting him. The shouts turned into a word you recognized. Hodor. You thought your eyes had deceived you until you heard it again. You looked at the young man across from you.

“Brandon Stark, what did you do?” you asked in horror.

Your eyes flashed open. You had weeks of pleasant dreams but that one was anything but. Grey Wind and Eddard were still asleep. It was weird with just three of you, the missing looming presence that was your dragon was becoming noticeable. With Shadow currently gone, the only places you could go were the citadel, the palace, and the forest.

Grey Wind had started coming with you and Eddard into the palace. The young boy was able to walk for short bouts on his own but usually holding one of your hands. The ghost you had seen from the first time you entered the palace occasionally greeted you— Grey Wind growling even more than Shadow did the first encounter.

“I need a general. Someone to teach me how to fight with a sword,” you told her.

She left and moments later returned with another spirit. The commander was someone she knew when they were both alive— he led the armies that fought under her. He laughed and shook his head when you drew your sword. You unconvincingly re-sheathed your sword. The commander materialized a second sword, throwing it at you. You caught the spirit weapon, a chill going through your bones as you did. He gave you barely any warning before he moved towards you. With a shriek, you brought up the sword and blocked him. The general smiled as you continued to block him.

“I thought you would be a baby with a sword. Like your son over there.”

“I was taught to defend myself.”

“You were? By who? This is not like the fighting of Essos.”

“By a Kingslayer in Westeros.”

Shadow had returned with a basket full of eggs. Like your original egg, they were all grey. Covered in layers of dried ash, you wondered what colors would be revealed in good time. You had warged in and out of the dragon her whole journey. She had been safe for the most part. It appeared that the Shadowlands were as populated as Valyria— when it came to people anyway.

Shadow had been gone longer than anticipated. Eddard could walk on his own, he could speak sentences, was learning how to hold onto Grey Wind and ride the beast. He was almost three.

Both you and Eddard had inklings of Targaryen peeking through. His white streak was back as well as the underside of your hair being white as well— only the top part still black. Eddard was a perfect mix of you and Robb. He had your white streak of Targaryen hair, your eyes and your skin. But the rest of his features were all Robb including the loose curls that would be more black than brown if it wasn’t for the fact that Catelyn was a Tully and Tully red ran in the family.

Eddard led the way into the palace, able to jump the small gap on his own. Grey Wind right behind him followed by you and then Shadow. When you finally reached the throne, Eddard became confused. He grabbed your hand and looked at you.

“We were following you today, Little Lord.”

“I don’t know,” he whispered.

You nodded and took the lead. Your feet carried you before you could process. It was a part of the palace you had never been down before— every time you tried in the past, it would feel off. Old Valyria was hot but this part of the castle ran cold. Eddard clutched at your leg as you continued forward. Rocks blocked the way. You began to clear at them and, when she saw what you were doing, Shadow began to help.

“A crypt?”

There were statues all around the hall, small urns in front of them. You had only seen one other place like this. The crypts of Winterfell. Although the urns would have been boxes for bones. But a dragon nation, it seemed more appropriate to burn the bodies and keep the ashes. There were no names written anywhere, just faces that you supposed the people of Old Valyria knew. You wondered if, as Hands to the Ruler, any of your ancestors were there. You wouldn’t know— it wasn’t like you could identify them anyway.

It wasn’t the statues that lined the walls that caught your interest but the one at the end of the crypt. You stared at what you assumed was the first king or one of the first kings, depending on how long it took to build the palace, of Valyria. He was wearing a rather simple golden crown and in his hands a large sword of Valyrian steel. The sword resembled Ned’s Ice. The statue’s stone eyes were dead. It was a crypt but no spirits lived here. You reached for the gold crown resting on the king’s stony head. Without much trouble, the large sword was taken from his grasp. You turned it over in your hand and watched how it glittered even in the dim crypt.

“It’s time to go home.”

(Part 10)...

#game of thrones fic #asoiaf fic #gendry x reader

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sherlokiness · 8 months

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It makes Jon super dark if he makes a marriage arrangement for Arya. I really hope he doesn't do that.

Hi, anon. Thanks for the ask.

I think Jon is gonna fuck Dany for her dragons while being in love with his sister, anon. That already makes him a vile bastard, objectively speaking. Subjectively he can be excused since he would be doing it to calm a volatile tyrant like Dany while his feelings for Sansa isn't gonna really harm her.

She had made Hizdahr her king, taken him into her bed, opened the fighting pits for him, he had no reason to want her dead. Yet who else could it have been? Reznak, her perfumed seneschal? The Yunkai'i? The Sons of the Harpy?

Since we're 100% gonna have Dark Dany. I don't think we're gonna have an idiot Jon who was acting like AGoT 11 year old Sansa in the show. Dark Jon is in the cards too.

Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. As the moon rose above the grasslands, Dany slipped at last into a restless sleep.

Dany wondering who betrayed her??? (with 3 possible people) only to be answered by a wolf's howl.☠️☠️ Great foreshadowing Aegonys, the wolf howled followed by a restless sleep for Dany. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Mormont gave a whistle, and the bird flew to him again and settled on his arm. "A lord's one thing, a king's another."

You would weep as well if you had a son and lost him, Sam almost said. He could not blame Gilly for her grief. Instead, he blamed Jon Snow and wondered when Jon's heart had turned to stone. Once he asked Maester Aemon that very question, when Gilly was down at the canal fetching water for them. "When you raised him up to be the lord commander," the old man answered.

Anon, just imagine someone like Jon who was murdered by his brothers only to be resurrected. He was cold as fuck to Gilly when he was only a Lord Commander, what happens if the North makes him their King? I've always tried to find a possible reason for Gendrya having sex in the show. I agree that they're gonna be canon in the books but I never imagined they would really have sex and an arranged marriage might be the reason for it. Arya is too young imo but being with Gendry can also be Arya's little rebellion. A willful little Lyanna escaping a marriage to be with a Baratheon. Oh how the turn tables. Unlike Lyanna tho, Arya is going to be willful to the end and leave him for her own adventure.

Once Cregan gets a child by me they won't need me anymore. He's buried two wives already." She rubbed away a tear angrily, the way Arya might have done it. "Will you help me?"

"Marriages and inheritance are matters for the king, my lady. I will write to Stannis on your behalf, but—"

"Shortly." Sigorn might take it as a slight if he did not appear. And this marriage is mine own work, after all. "I have other matters to attend to first, however."

Marriages are matters for the King and he's the one who made Alys' marriage which essentially makes him the King.

"You're not scared?"

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. "Let him be scared of me."

I don't think we should discount Jon making a suitable marriage for Arya. It's not like he's gonna marry her off to a Ramsay Bolton. Damn though. Arya having sex with her fake brother Gendry. And if we get Jonsa on top of that... These Stark sisters sure are something.

#sherlokiness ask #ice and fire boy and nothing so sweet

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kingsansa · 2 years

Note

Yesss Jon pov let me soak up some wifeguy vibes

Jon’s never necessarily had real parents before, but he imagines that if he did, listening to them fight would be a lot like listening to Jeyne and Robb fight.

They’re really going at it. Outside, thank god. And all of her sisters are not do discreetly listening in the kitchen, where all the windows happen to be facing the backyard. Arya and Gendry are arguing over who caught the best fish. Rickon is mysteriously missing, and so are the mini bottles of liquor on the coffee table. Bran is passed out on the carpet, hat covering his face. All of the other girls are asleep.

Not his.

She’s wearing her pajamas, but she’s wide awake. She slouches into the living room from the kitchen with a plate and a bottle of water, her jerky little steps a side effect of her drinking or her wearing heels for a majority of the night. She falls into the couch more than she sits on it; right next to him. Her bare thigh brushes against his jeans, and so do her tiny shorts. Dove gray. These ones are his favorite.

She smiles at him almost shyly, and he really, really wants her to hold his hand again.

“Do you want pizza?” She holds up the plate a little. There’s enough there for both of them. Even drunk, she thinks about his possible needs.

He’s very certain she’s at least extremely tipsy, now. She’d done a good job at fooling him earlier, but that probably wasn’t her intention. She’s probably the most well coordinated drunk person that he’s ever met, which fits, to be fair.

What isn’t she good at?

“No,” He says, then adds, “thank you.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

She presses her hand against his stomach, as if she’s trying to anticipate whether he’s telling the truth or not. He would laugh, but then she starts rubbing it in circles, and he likes that more than he expects to.

“Three hours ago.” He swallows as he drags her hand up a little, because it’s slipping just below his navel—a dangerous, dangerous area. “I had fish.”

Sansa giggles at that, and she holds her water bottle in front of her mouth, as if she doesn’t want him to see it.

He wants to pull it away so that he can, but he doesn’t. Asks, “What?”

“Nothing.” She answers, the very picture of innocence. She unscrews the cap of her water bottle and sips.

She drinks for awhile, until the bottle is half gone, and his eyes narrow.

“Is that all the water you’ve had tonight?”

Sansa hiccups slightly, and for a moment, she looks sheepish. Then she caps her water bottle and pivots so that she can fall into him, head into his lap, plate of pizza on her stomach.

“If I say yes, are you gonna be mad at me?”

He sighs, irritable. “Sansa—”

A slender hand covers his mouth.

“No, Pumpkin.” She says. “That’s what you’re supposed to say.”

He cant be mad at her.

He couldn’t be mad at her earlier, when she was wearing that black outfit and he can’t be mad at her now. Her makeup is off and her face is completely bare and a little shiny and her hair is still curly and she looks so sweet that it makes his breath catch. That he wants to take her in his arms and hold her close forever.

But it doesn’t stop him from being irritated, because if that’s the only water she’s had all night, he doesn’t even know what she’s had to eat besides this pizza.

“Sit up and eat, or you’re gonna choke.” He says instead.

Sansa pouts a little at that, but she does as she’s told. Except she stays in his lap, which is more than fine with him. She picks up a slice of pizza and holds it to his mouth. Frowns when he doesn’t open.

“You like pizza.” She says.

“I like your pizza.” He corrects.

She beams at that, snuggling deep into his chest with a sigh as she eats.

Jon thinks she’ll probably get sauce on his shirt, but he doesn’t really care.

#answered #ficlet

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cellsshapedlikestars · 2 years

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Prompt: I want your take on a Regency Jonsa AU.

Ok, I'm actually sort of cheating with this one.

I've had this bit written for... honestly a long time. Maybe over a year. It's something I planned on turning into a full story, but could never quite follow through with. Mostly because I couldn't think of the rest of the plot

But now I can post it as a prompt fic! And if I do decide to continue it, great. If not, at least this part is out there, because I do like it.

Thanks for the prompt, anon!

read it on AO3 here:

ephemera chapter 22

“But I am engaged!”

The words slip out of her mouth before she can stop them and she can feel Arya staring at her as Aunt Lysa turns around and gives her a once over.

“And why am I just hearing of this?” she asks coldly, eyes narrowing.

“It's... it's a secret,” Sansa says, trying to keep her voice steady and believable, though the lie is anything but.

Oh, how has she gotten herself here?

Coming to live with Aunt Lysa has been a nightmare, after the deaths of their parents and Robb nearly three years ago. Lysa is petty and cruel and seems to hate them all for some slight Sansa cannot imagine.

But then, hope had appeared in the form of Gendry Waters – one of the few kind men in the ton, with a generous income, who has fallen in love with her little sister and has promised to take them all away from this place.

If only Lysa would let him.

But no, Lysa will not let Arya debut until Sansa had found herself a husband and, as they were all very much aware, that was unlikely to happen after Joffrey Baratheon disposed of her and quickly married a girl with a less respected name, but a much bigger dowry.

Sansa has not heard anything direct, but she is certain that Joffrey has also been slighting her name in the gentleman's clubs he frequents. In one fell swoop, the diamond of her season had become Joffrey Baratheon's cast-off, her image disgraced without her having done a single thing wrong. She had been so careful in their courtship not to compromise herself, and for what? For it to happen anyway.

“You would think Lysa would be jumping at the chance to get rid of us!” Sansa had huffed when their aunt had, quite gleefully, denied Arya's debut.

“She hates us,” Arya had said, absolutely distraught. “She'll never let us be happy.”

Sansa had never, in all her eighteen years, seen Arya so defeated. She had never seen Arya in love.

And so, Sansa was determined to convince her aunt to let Arya debut, which is how she finds herself in her current predicament.

“And who is this secret gentleman who has asked for your hand?” Aunt Lysa asks, and Sansa knows from her tone that she does not believe.

(She has every right not to believe, for it is not true.)

And then Sansa does something very, very foolish.

She says a name.

“The Duke of Dragonstone!”

….

What had she been thinking?

Only of Arya – and Bran and little Rickon. Of getting them away from Lysa. Of having some bit of peace and happiness.

And the Duke of Dragonstone is a well known hermit – young and wealthy beyond measure, but they say he hates society and prefers to stick to his estates in the country. He has not been seen in London in years.

Except he has, apparently, chosen to visit at this very moment.

“Curse him,” Sansa whispers to herself, pacing her room. “Drat, drat, drat.”

Of all the times! Could he not have stayed away for a few more months? Until Arya debuted? Until Arya became engaged? Until they were free?

Things are happening too quickly, she needs to think.

After her admission, Aunt Lysa had gone into a flurry – it seems that a marriage to the Duke of Dragonstone is too much of a boon for even Aunt Lysa to let go, even if that means Sansa's possible happiness. And now Aunt Lysa is planning to visit the Duke tomorrow. And she has contracted the help of that awful solicitor Petyr Baelish (who has hinted that he would be willing to marry Sansa himself, now that her name is tarnished within the ton).

What has she done?

“Sansa,” Arya bursts into the room, eyes wide in panic.

“I know!” Sansa does not stop pacing. “I'm thinking.”

“Maybe Gendry and I should just run away-” Arya begins, but Sansa will not have it. She will not allow any more scandal to come to her family, not when she has already caused so much.

No, she is the eldest, it is her job to take care of them. Even if her own reputation is ruined and she is to spend her life as a spinster, she is determined that Arya, Bran, and Rickon will have the life they deserve.

And as for the Duke of Dragonstone? Well, she will get herself out of that mess.

….

She and her maid, Jeyne, are lead into the home by a confused butler, after she tells him that yes, she does indeed have an appointment to see the Duke. She feels bad lying to the man, but there's nothing for it.

The sitting room is quite plain, nothing Sansa would expect from a wealthy duke – especially one related to the queen. She supposes it is because the Duke of Dragonstone is so rarely in London. Perhaps he has moved all the décor into his country home.

She sits on a settee and folds her shaking hands into her lap.

After what seems like ages, the door opens and a man finally comes in and the speech Sansa had prepared all night completely disappears from her head.

The Duke of Dragonstone looks like he has not slept – he is not at all properly attired and his dark curls are a mess, as though he has just woken up. He pauses in the doorway of the sitting room and regards her with level, dark eyes, and Sansa feels a shiver of something course down her spine.

“Who are you?” he asks, eyeing her up in a way that lets Sansa know that she is completely unwanted in his home.

Her heart thumps maddeningly in her chest as she stands, keeping her hands clasped in front of her so that he will not see how hard she shakes. Everything is resting on this. She dips into a curtsy appropriate for a duke and tries to slow the panic whirling inside her.

“My name is Sansa Stark, your grace,” she keeps her head down. She has learned that men like her most when she is soft and demure, and so she plays it up, keeps her voice low and her movements graceful.

“Stark?” she hears, and she looks up at the Duke, who brings his hand up to rub at his unshaven chin. “From Winterfell, up north?”

“That is correct, Your Grace,” she nods, and hopes that his recognition is more about her good family name than the lies Joffrey has been spreading about her. It seems as though the Duke really has just awoken, for he blinks owlishly at her and seems to be processing her words. She takes advantage of his silence to press on. “I am sure you are wondering why I am here,” she tries to let out a soft, musical laugh that instead comes out sounding as nervous and fluttery as she feels. “You see, I am quite in need of some help-”

The Duke lets out a groan that stops her words short, and she watches him storm over to the tray his serving girl had brought in with coffee and biscuits – clearly just as surprised as her master and the butler at the early morning intrusion. “Been in London for a week and already...” she hears the Duke mutter to himself as he pours a cup of coffee and seems to down it in one go.

After he has poured himself a second cup, he turns back to face her and says, “and what is this help that you need me for? I believe my memory is quite sound, and I know I have never met you or any Stark before, so I cannot imagine what would cause you to come ask me for a favor when the sun has barely risen. Is it a loan? Or are you here to persuade me to some cause for your father? A business venture you'd like me to invest in, perhaps? As if I have not heard at least a dozen of those since I arrived.”

Sansa's face feels hot at his tone, laced with condescension, and she is suddenly angry at him for making this difficult, though she knows this is her fault and not his. Still, he is being extremely rude.

“My father is dead,” she snaps, and though the thought of her father causes that old grief to rise to the surface, she does find joy in the way the Duke flinches back. While he's off balance, she stands tall and lifts her chin and says, “I have come to ask that you pretend to be my betrothed when my Aunt and her solicitor come calling this morning.”

The Duke blinks at her, opens his mouth, closes it again, furrows his brow, and then downs the second cup of coffee just as quickly as he did the first. When he has finished and set the cup down (on the table and not on the saucer, which appalls Sansa), he turns to her and says, “well, that's a new one.”

…

Sansa sits in the parlor, body bent in half, head between her knees as she tries to get ahold of herself.

The Duke had left the parlor after her explanation – their parents dying and Robb dying and Aunt Lysa and Gendry and even that awful solicitor. He had left the room, but had not told her to get out, and so she and Jeyne wait.

Sansa will not leave until she is made to. She is so desperate that she thinks they will have to drag her out of this parlor and dump her on the street.

The longer the Duke is gone, though, the more Sansa thinks he means to meet her Aunt and Mr. Baelish and tell them all about her lies. The thought makes her sick to her stomach. Perhaps she really will have to marry Mr. Baelish after this.

At least Arya would be free to marry Gendry, then.

Bile rises in Sansa's throat as she comes to a decision – if this ruse with the Duke does not work, then Sansa will marry Baelish. She will let Arya be free, she will make sure her brothers are no longer subjected to Aunt Lysa's moods.

There is a knock on the front door that makes Sansa sit up straight, and she looks over at Jeyne, who appears just as worried as Sansa feels.

“Sansa,” Aunt Lysa says with a frown, when she is lead into the parlor. “What ever are you doing here? This is exceedingly inappropriate...”

“Now, now, Lady Arryn,” Mr. Baelish soothes. “Though I must agree with your aunt,” Mr. Baelish turns his own frown on her. “It is not appropriate for you to be at an unwed man's home without a chaperone-”

“Jeyne has been with me the whole time,” Sansa argues, trying to steady the shake in her voice.

At that moment, the Duke of Dragonstone chooses to return through the second entryway.

He has changed into proper clothes, and his hair is tied back. There's nothing of the dishevelment there was this morning - a sharp contrast that causes Sansa to blush, remembering how improperly attired he had been.

“May I ask what this is all about?” the Duke asks. Even his presence is different. The man in front of her holds himself like a Duke, like a nephew of the Queen, not just some man she had roused from bed too early in the morning.

“Your Grace,” Aunt Lysa curtsies, voice breathy and filled with awe. Mr. Baelish has his slick smile on.

Sansa cannot help but roll her eyes in that moment – a terrible habit that her mother had never quite been able to cure her of, though Sansa is usually better mannered than this and only does it around her immediate family.

Then she notices that the Duke is watching her, eyes moving between her, her aunt, and Mr. Baelish, a slight crease between his brows.

“My niece has just informed me of your... secret engagement,” Aunt Lysa says the words as though they are a struggle.

“You can imagine our surprise,” Mr. Baelish adds, the use of the word our grating against Sansa's nerves. As if he is a part of their family. As if he has any say as to who Sansa marries. “It being so sudden, and Sansa never mentioning you before. I cannot fathom how you two even met.”

Mr. Baelish turns to look at her, and Sansa suppresses a shiver at the cold look he gives her.

She has made him angry.

He had wanted her, and now he is angry.

He will be even angrier when the Duke tells him the truth.

Sansa feels faint. Did she tie her stays too tight? Maybe it is all the people crowded into the parlor, though there is plenty of room. She did not eat this morning, perhaps that is why? And now that she thinks about it, she was so nervous that she barely ate any dinner last night.

Fainting might help, she thinks dizzily, as Mr. Baelish and Aunt Lysa and the Duke keep talking, their voices buzzing in her ears. If she is unconscious, they cannot be angry with her.

“I must say,” the Duke is speaking, his voice coming back into focus as Sansa sways on weak knees. “I have hated keeping the secret. But you see, the tragic passing of her parents and brother happened so soon after we met, we felt it not appropriate to tell anyone. Then my business has kept me away from London for so long.”

What? Sansa thinks, breathing harder, trying to get air into her lungs.

The Duke looks at her, a smile on his lips, though the warmth of it doesn't reach his eyes. “Isn't that right, my dear?”

The Duke stares at her with his intense, dark eyes and Aunt Lysa and Mr. Baelish turn to her to await an answer, and Sansa promptly faints.

#jonsa #jonsa fic #prompt fic

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waitingforwinterwinds · 1 year

Text

A Clash of Kings - 38 ARYA VIII (pages 494-502)

Arya continues to adapt to life at Harrenhal, touches base with Gendry, and gives Jaqen her second name.

Weese never imagined she could read, though, so he never bothered to seal the messages he gave her. (...) One was a demand for payment on a gambling debt, but the knight she gave it to couldn't read. (...) When she gave the horn to Weese, he told her that a smart Weasle like her deserved a reward.

I'm curious, does Weese know now that she can read, or did he assume the knight could read, and is assuming he basically told 'Weasle' what was in the note, or does he not care how it happened since he basically still got payment?

Arya's being smart though, getting on Weese's good side even if she does hate his guts.

"Last night Hot Pie asked me if I heard you yell Winterfell back at the holdfast, when we were all fighting on the wall." "I never did!" "Yes you did. I heard you too." "Everyone was yelling stuff," Arya said defensively. "Hot Pie yelled hot pie. He must have yelled it a hundred times." "It's what you yelled that matters. I told Hot Pie he should clean the wax out of his ears, that all you yelled was Go to hell! If he asks you, you better say the same."

Gendry's a good guy, a real decent wingman... when he's not getting everyone captured. Quick thinking though.

and good thing they have a concept of hell that's still called hell and not something like spabbiboobla. Though given they're in the south which is rife with the Faith iirc they typically say hells, as a plural... I wonder if the seven hells are basically Dante's inferno?

Maybe I'm not a water dancer yet, but I'm not a mouse either. A mouse couldn't use a sword but I can.

It's good to see her confidence rebuilding, as long as it doesn't over grow her caution and ability. There's a difference between confidence and arrogance, one of them gets you killed.

... oh good, she's thinking things through. That's the sucky but necessary part of planning, asking 'what can go wrong and how wrong can it go?'

OI! Don't slap Arya, you piece of trash! Ah darn, brownie points lost. I shouldn't have expected them to last, Weese is a canon fodder villain, fickle, shitty and useless.

Oh good, he's finally going to achieve his true final form... as fertilizer. All natural Blood & Bone~

- and a wing of the capon that Weese had spoken of that morning.

...Hang on, wing? lemme google something. Oooooohhhh, capon is a gelded rooster. I have literally never heard of that before, it sounded kinda like capers though, which look like peppercorns, so in my head I was expecting some kind of stuffed capsicum, (bell peppers) I think.

Whatever was going on upstairs I was not prepared for bird. XD

His charger wore a blanket of enameled crimson scales and gilded chinet and chanfron, -

Damn, I know people love to bedazzle their stuff and get insanely attached to their phone chargers but- horse! It's a type of horse! I knew that, I totally remembered that right away.

I'm so stupid, she thought. Weese did not matter, no more than Chiswyck had. These were the men who mattered, the ones she ought to have killed. Last night she could have whispered any of them dead, if only she hadn't been so mad at Weese for hitting her and lying about the capon. Lord Tywin, why didn't I say Lord Tywin?

Okay, let's stop and follow that train of thought for a second, because I know some members of the fandom have brought this very thing up as an "hey you had an easy win but fumbled the ball" kind of thing, so let's say Arya did name one of these men. Lord Tywin even.

... sorry, bit of a ramble, I 'tldr'd my opinion at the bottom.

And let's say Jaqen didn't wait until Tywin's army was out the gates and underway.

The Lord in charge of the entire army is killed within the walls of their stronghold.

Do you know what likely happens next? Regardless of whether or not it looks like an accident? The kind of investigation that involves flagrant disregard for people's rights and proves once again that Westeros doesn't even have a Geneva, because what are the chances that Lord Tywin dies by misadventure while they're at war? Sus AF.

So they're going to want to know who did it, and they aren't going to stop until they're satisfied, whether that's because they've found who they believe to be the culprit or they've quenched their blood thirst.

Arya could get away with Weese and Chiswyck because they "don't matter" no one with enough power to make someone pay for it is going to care about those two, but Tywin? They'd be lucky if anyone survived that given the kind of pro-torture-slaughter-and-rape attitude the army has, even without the chance to wrap that kind of depravity in the guise of justice.

and okay, maybe Jaqen does wait until Tywin has left. Maybe we get lucky and the army tears itself apart looking for answers, but Tywin has a replacement in Kevan to lead the army, and the Mountain and his ilk are happy to hare off and pillage the countryside. And there are a lot of his ilk. Jaqen owes her three.

He either kills three, and it doesn't change much, or he kills three and dozens scatter to the winds to harry the smallfolk as before but with no leash to call them off (not that there was much of one to begin with.)

TLDR: As much as it sucks, and as much as it looks like it should have been an easy cheat, GRRM likes terrible consequences, and I don't think anything that looks that easy and good, would have come without a terrible price. I think Arya made the best choice with her names that she could.

#a clash of kings #a song of ice and fire #arya stark #a chapter a day reading #acok #asoiaf

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epilogue-and-prologue · 10 months

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Masterlist - Game of Thrones/ASOIAF

Jojen Reed Breath - Romantic/Nudity - Jojen x Reader

Asha/Yara Greyjoy Imagine being betrothed to Yara Greyjoy - Romantic/Mentions of weddings - Asha/Yara x Reader

Gendry Waters Imagine dating Gendry - Romantic - Gendry x Reader

#game of thrones #got #got imagine

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adecila · 11 months

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hi alice! do you think future dany will get big enough to do big tours like taylor’s? I was just picturing the targies version of eras content. analyzing her VIP box, like OMG GENDRY WATERS IS MAKING OUT WITH JON’S COUSIN IN THE BACK OF THIS TIKTOK or people fangirling because they got to toss their friendship bracelet to jon 🤭☺️ yes this fic makes my imagination run wild

Weeeeell, if Jon does his job right, she'll become a superstar 🫢 so we can definitely expect her to eventually go on tour and such! And from what we've already seen on FTC twitter, her stans would do the absolute most on tiktok, you're right haha

#alice has mail #ftc

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mysticnightmarewrites · 7 months

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the night we met - Ch. 7

The time is finally here. After everything Gendry and Arya have been to each other, it's time for Gendry to decide whether to take a different path. The consequences could be more dire than he's even realized. What will the world look like when he returns to the present day?

Read Ch. 1-6 on Tumblr

SONG: "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron PAIRING: Arya/Gendry LENGTH: 1.7k words WARNINGS: Minors DNI

The leaves of the heart tree were falling all around the godswood, falling into her hair, swirling around me, despite the summer sun stubbornly refusing to set just yet. They hadn't been there the night we met, but they were there now. Just like how I could feel the old gods in everything, though I hadn't noticed the first time around. When the leaves settled onto the ground, they formed a crimson path toward the woman I'd loved for what felt like my whole life, even though I'd been 21 when we met. I suddenly realized that there was only one of me left.

"It's up to you now," I could almost hear the bleeding tree whisper with its open mouth.

The glass of water I reached for felt solid in my hand, and I took a sip while I watched Arya stare at the heart tree, tears in her eyes and sister by her side. Something in me was pulling me toward her, down the trail of foliage, despite my best intentions to stay fixed to the ground near the door.

A ball of red hair darted by my side.

"Wotcher," I called out, and the kid stopped. "You're Rickon, right?" Ned had talked of him often.

He looked surprised to be addressed. "Most people are ignoring me."

"That sucks, kid. Here," I said, passing him the fidget spinner from my pocket. I had done the same the first time around, and it wouldn't hurt anything to show him that little bit of kindness.

"Thanks, man," he said, spinning it around his fingers as he found a little nook to sit where no one would run into him.

I turned back to the little table that had been set out and cringed at the loud clink of the glass on the metal. It drew Arya's eyes to me. She was wiping the tears off on her sleeve. I could tell she didn't recognize me, but there was curiosity in her gaze, taking in my cheap suit and my leather jacket. At the time, I'd just thought it was because she couldn't imagine her dad associating with anyone as rough as me. But now I knew there was a spark of something there, from the first moment we locked eyes. It had pulled me toward her even then.

All I had to do was walk away, and this would be the last time those eyes haunted me. The only time they had ever met. Knowing that was excruciating. There was so much weight on my shoulders, and I couldn't take it. But as much as I couldn’t stay, I couldn't get my feet to turn away. Surely it wouldn't hurt to hear her voice one last time? One final time before everything ended. Just a little something to carry with me.

Slowly, I made my way over to the only person I had ever allowed myself to love after years of hiding away my heart. “Hey,” I said, remembering the exact words I’d said that night.

“Let me guess, you’re sorry for my loss.” Arya could be like barbed wire when she wanted. It had been something I’d liked about her, and I still did. I smiled, in spite of myself.

“Nah. The world fucking sucks is what I was going to say.”

“See, he gets it,” she said, dramatically gesturing to me and looking up at her sister. “When I say something like that, you all look at me like I grew a second head.”

“For seven’s sake, Arya, you know mother doesn’t like profanity.”

“I know, I know, ‘It’s not ladylike,’” she said, and I soaked up every word I could. “Could you do me a favor?” Her voice suddenly turned serious. Sansa nodded. “Find out wherever Jon’s been sulking and tell him he needs to say bye before he leaves for the North tomorrow.”

“On it. Behave yourself, now.”

Arya nodded, but there was something of a twinkle in her eye, shining through the tears that lingered.

I’d forgotten we’d been left alone so early in the night, but it felt like magic standing next to her again in front of the heart tree. Had it really always been this electric between us?

“I’m Gendry.”

“Arya.”

“I know,” I said, thankful she hadn’t put out a hand the first time around either. I didn’t think I could bear to touch her.

“What brings you here?” she asked, as if she was a bartender pushing her sleeves back and ready to hear her patron’s long life stories.

“Ned showed up at my shop a while back – I’m a mechanic – and well, he knew my dad back in the day. Bobby Baratheon?” She nodded in recognition. “He helped me get an allowance from the old man. I’ll be going to college for the first time this fall because of him.”

“Sounds like my dad,” she said.

“I know it doesn’t change anything, but I just wanted to say, Ned deserved better than what those bastards did to him.” It felt like those words were important to say, no matter what would happen next. But then Arya said something I had forgotten.

“If you keep saying things like that, I’ll have to keep you around. No one else here is brave enough to say the truth. It’s suffocating. I could use someone who gets it.”

Her words were said lightly. There was no deep meaning in them. But after reliving all our years together, they carried a new meaning, the words shining a guiding light. I had been so focused on the pain. First mine, and then ours. But now there was something new, something deeper than even the joy we had found in each other’s arms.

By the time we had met, it had been many years since I’d faced my own great loss. I’d had years to learn how to grow around it, but I had had to do all the pruning and tilling alone, and it had been the most difficult thing I’d ever had to do, until I had to lose Arya. I wouldn’t wish that loneliness on anyone, and certainly not on the fierce woman in front of me. Arya had never needed anyone. She was the most independent person I’d ever met, but still, I had just spent countless moments walking through all the ways we had mended each other. And she had thanked me for it. She hadn’t just been grateful for all the fun and excitement we’d had. I had been there for her when no one else had. She’d tried to tell me as much, but I couldn’t see past myself. I couldn’t leave her at this party, alone. Couldn’t let her walk through the next few years of her life without anyone to lie down beside her.

As much as it had hurt losing her, I would carry that pain a million times over for her. All for her. I would be what she needed, and she would still let me go when she was ready to walk alone, but I would do this one thing. There was no time to look back. Only forward.

“Want to get out of here, then?” I asked, repeating the words I’d said all those years ago. I relished in her eager nod, but I watched as the Gendry I had once been took her hand and walked with her out the door.

“How do you feel about a motorcycle?” I heard my past self say as they moved out of earshot.

Relief filled my body and sent me to my knees. If I had let her go, a part of me would have always regretted it. That much was clear now. The bleeding face stared me down, the red trickling down the pale white bark.

“Take me back,” I whispered. “Take me back to the present. I'm ready. I’m ready.”

A swirl of leaves surrounded me until all I saw was blood, and my vision went black.

“Wake up, wake up!” I heard a voice calling. I came to with Rickon leaning over me. “Do I really have to micromanage all my brothers?”

His words didn’t fully process at first. “What time is it?” I asked, groggy. I felt like I’d been hit over the head with a brick.

“It’s 5. The guests will start showing up anytime now. Go pick a seat.”

Blankly, I stared at both sides of the aisle, wondering which to pick. I’d been friends off and on with Pod for years, and Sansa was my ex’s sister. I wasn’t sure what fancy people’s etiquette would say about a situation like this.

“For the old gods’ sake,” Rickon groaned. “Go sit over there. You’re one of us.” And then it finally kicked in that he’d called me his brother. “Nope, end of discussion,” he said with finality when he noticed I was about to walk his statement back.

“Man, you’re bossy,” I grumbled as I sat down in the back, where I hoped no one would much notice me, anyway.

The guests filtered in slowly, but it seemed like the seats were all filled in a matter of moments, and I tried to avoid catching anyone’s eye. The only person who seemed to recognize me was Pod, who gave me a nod. Rickon soon ushered the last person into their seat and followed suit.

When the violinist near the end of the aisle started playing, I watched as the sight I’d been missing for four dreadful years stepped into view. Her hair was shorter than I’d ever seen it, and her lipstick matched the soft shade of pink she was wearing. She walked down the aisle slowly, like she wanted to savor the moment.

When a bride walks down the aisle, most people, I’ve observed, stand and turn to watch the woman walk toward her soon-to-be husband. Some, however, turn to watch the groom to see if he cries, even just a little. But my eyes were on the maid of honor, who was clearly holding back her own tears as she took the bouquet so Sansa could hold Pod’s hands. It reminded me so much of that first moment I saw her, but these tears were entirely a different kind. She was happy. After all these years, I finally knew for certain. I couldn't help but grin to see it. And for a moment, the briefest moment, it looked almost as if she noticed me, but her face didn’t break for a single second. And before I could register it, the wedding was underway.

#arya x gendry #gendrya #ao3 fanfic #arya stark #modern au #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #gendry #gendry baratheon

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onthesandsofdreams · 2 years

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In Dreams [10/?]

Pairing: SanSan Rating: T Summary: It doesn't take her long to fall asleep. Next time she opens her eyes, she finds herself in the clearing with Sandor kneeling in front of her, tears swimming in his eyes. "Thank you, Sansa. Thank you for finding my sister." Words: 1103 Notes: Modern Westeros

Read @ AO3

Waiting for her to be tired enough to go to bed might drive Sansa crazy.

She rushes all over her house, moving this, rearranging that. Some online shopping, quick play and feeding Lady, prepping food for tomorrow, she will not have Arya, Gendry and Sam come and help her and not receive anything as a thank you. And food always helped her clear her mind.

"Sandor, by any chance, is there a moniker that you used in life?" She wonders aloud as she throws things in the slow cooker. "Because I might be able to find something else using it, because Gods, I can't find your grave!"

Lady comes and rubs around her legs and she laughs, "No, Lady, this food is not yours. Go away." She rolls her eyes at the whines that Lady makes. "You greedy creature, your dinner was served a little while ago."

After everything's ready on the slow cooker, she takes a long, warm bath. The salts and warm water helping to relax her. And just to make sure she falls asleep deeply, she makes herself a cup of blue moon milk. She climbs onto bed, grabs a book and begins to read. Lady curls on her feet, making her feel safe.

It doesn't take her long to fall asleep.

Next time she opens her eyes, she finds herself in the clearing with Sandor kneeling in front of her, tears swimming in his eyes. "Thank you, Sansa. Thank you for finding my sister."

She rushes forward and asks, "May I hug you?" At his nod, she wraps her arms around him and squeezes as tight as she can. "Your sister lived a good life Sandor."

"Tell me, please." Sandor's voice is thick. His usual rasp is heavier. "Whatever it is that you have found, please."

She lets him go, smiles at him and says, "Your sister remained in Casterly until she married a man named Zhano from Braavos. He was a merchant. They had two children, a girl named Cyrelle and a boy... a boy named Sandor."

Everything, including Sandor seems to freeze.

"Sandor?"

Sandor's eyes fill with tears again, "I - she, she named her son after me?" His voice is quiet, filled with a vulnerability she would not have expected from someone as war weary as him.

"She did." She smiled again. "Sandor, your sister loved you and missed you so much, she named her son after you."

Those are enough to make the dam break. Sandor falls to his knees once more and begins sobbing freely. Her instincts kick in and she rushes forward to hug Sandor. He is so strong and solidly built, and above all things, he feels real. "It's okay, Sandor. It's okay." She tells him as he weeps. "Your sister lived a good life, she formed a family and left a legacy behind. Both materialistic and genetic, you have nephews and nieces several times removed in Braavos."

Sandor wipes his tears, takes her hand in his and places a kiss atop of it. "Thank you Sansa," his eyes are honest and earnest. "I am in a deep debt that I am not sure I could ever pay. You have lifted a heavy burden from me. I can have some peace knowing my sister did well and lived well."

She feels herself blush. "Oh, there's no need for thanks, Sandor. If I were in your position, I would hope someone tell me anything about my own family."

"Nevertheless, I want to thank you." He gives her a twisted smile, puts his hand on one of his pockets and pulls a small little necklace, the small jewel sparkles in the light. "I want to give you this, Sansa."

She shakes her head, "Oh, Sandor there is no need! I only did the search because I have a family of my own and I cannot imagine the pain you must have been. Truly, there is no need."

"Perhaps not, but it would please me for you to accept it." Sandor says extending the necklace. It's a humble piece, a plain gold chain and the blue stone is shaped like a shield. "It was my mother's, one of the few things I was able to save from Gregor."

Hesitantly, she takes it and gives Sandor a solemn nod, "Then, I shall treasure it." She's not even sure if she will have it when she wakes. "By the way, before I forget, Sandor I can't find anything about a grave or resting place for you."

"How strange, I know that Jaime could be forgetful, but Brienne was not."

"Someone named Qyburn tended to you."

Once more, Sandor freezes in place. "What?!"

"Yes, everything I was able to find said that Qyburn tended to you. Did you missed that, I told you a couple of times."

To her surprise, Sandor begins to pace back and forth. "I must have. Because I don't like the idea of that madman going anywhere near my body."

She frowns, "It seems that Jaime called him. Do you know who Qyburn is? And why does it has you so agitated?"

"Because Qyburn was Cersei's pet." Sandor doesn't snarl, but it's a near thing. "No doubt that Jaime knew him when he was... with his sister. But Sansa, there were so many rumors about Qyburn that made me give him wide berth, and I'm not one who scares easily."

"That bad?" A sense of dread falls and covers the elation she had felt just a few moments ago. "Why?"

"Because there were rumors that he liked to play with human bodies." Sandor says firmly. "The man had been expelled from the Citadel, and do you have any idea how hard that was?"

She didn't like what she was hearing, "But Sandor... what if your body is somewhere here on house grounds?"

"That would be the best case scenario."

She gulps, "And what's the worse?"

"That the bastard used me for an experiment." A snarl. "Maybe you can find something with the name they called me? It's the Hound."

She did not know what to say. She was scared for him, she was scared for herself too. Because if Sandor's body had been disturbed... "I have no idea what to do."

They fell into an uneasy silence, she sitting on the ground and Sandor pacing in front of her. Sometimes snarling and cursing Jaime, others muttering about Qyburn in such a low voice, she could not understand him. Her mind racing with the possibilities.

Then, Sandor came to an abrupt halt. "Sansa... there is another thing that could be. What if - what if I'm alive?"

#sansan #sansa x sandor #sansa stark #sandor clegane #asoiaf #asoiaf fic #au: modern westeros #multipart: in dreams

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