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written-in-flowers · 1 year

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Fly Away: Pt. 5

Pairing: Young!Aemond x Young!Velaryon!Reader | Side pairing: Rhaenyra x Alicent, Aegon x Helaena

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Au: friends to lovers, childhood love, incest (duh), slight homophobia expressed, repressed feelings, mutual pining, teenage runaways, mentions of bullying, arrange marriages

Word Count: 7k

Summary: Young love overcomes all in a family full of broken bonds and broken hearts. When Princess Y/N Velaryon and Prince Aemond Targaryen are discovered missing from their beds, their mothers must come together to find them. The search might do more for their families than a mere marriage pact can.

A/N: want to clarify now that we stick with young!Aemond throughout the story. Ewan’s Aemond comes in at the very end. This is mainly done starting a bit before The Princess and the Queen and a little bit after the events at Driftmark. I do pull some scenes from the show, but it remains relatively loose throughout. Want to also point out that The Dance doesn’t happen in this universe, so...happy ending expected, because we need more of those.

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Taglist: @yitish, @imjustboredso, @discowizard88, @mddieeunson, @caramelcandescence, @bookwhoresthings, @astrumark, @ophelialaufey

****

She’d finished writing to Lady Jeyne Arryn when your lady-in-waiting entered her chambers. She’d hoped to persuade a betrothal between you and Eldric, one of Lady Jeyne’s younger brothers. The boy is a bit younger than you, but he was an Arryn of the Vale. An alliance between House Velaryon and House Arryn will be beneficial to both sides. The fair-haired girl waited for her to sign and seal her letter before speaking.

“Forgive me for the interruption, Your Grace,” the girl bowed, “But Princess Y/N was not in her bed this morning.”

Rhaenyra smiled softly. This was not the first time a maid informed her that your bed was empty. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Rhaenyra said, grabbing another slip of paper, “She must’ve gone for an early morning flight, Helen. She loves riding Starshine in the morning.”

“Yes, Your Grace, but she missed her morning meal as well.”

“She can eat when she comes back.”

You always came back. Rhaenyra dismissed Helen, then returned to writing the second marriage proposal: to Lord Rickon Stark. He had a son, Cregan, who was roughly your age. House Stark are a noble house and Wardens of the North; you will do well there. She hoped. Rhaenyra knew you had not fully forgiven her or Alicent for breaking the betrothal. She noticed the bouts of sadness you’d have during meals, particularly if they served a dish that reminded you of Aemond. She’d taken a look at your drawings when you didn’t see, and saw that a fair few were of Aemond and Vhagar. Rhaenyra knew what heartache looked like, and she certainly knew how it sounded. She’d forever feel guilty breaking her own daughter’s heart, but the pain would pass with time. You’ll come to see that, in the long run, retracting the pact benefited everyone involved.

Perhaps you’ll like Rickon’s son, and forget all about Aemond.

Rhaenyra wrote to Lord Stark, as well as Lords Tully and Manderly. All had sons who would make fine suitors for her only daughter. When she finished, about half past one, she left her chambers for the training yard. She spotted Luke and Jace being trained by the master-at-arms, heeding his instructions and executing them as told. Rhaenyra could never shake the very slight pang in her chest each time she looked at them. They reminded her too much of their father, of Harwin. Especially Jace, who already had his mane of brown curls and nose. Watching them swing swords at straw dummies, she stood on the balcony overhead and looked on quietly. The rumors of their births cannot reach her in these high walls; the whispers and murmurs could not touch them here. Yet, they’d come all the same that night at Drift Mark. Seeing them now, she thought of the insult that resulted in so much bad blood. She regretted now what she’d said about Aemond; suggesting he be questioned rather than cared for. She’d been concerned for her own sons, who’d been attacked, and the dangerous rumors that floated in the room. But, then Rhaenyra imagined how Alicent must’ve been feeling seeing her son maimed.

Rhaenyra knew her temper. She would’ve picked up that knife too, were she in Alicent’s position.

She’d ordered a bowl of grapes, cheese and wine while she watched over them. Sipping from her wine cup, she’d been clapping for Luke’s strong sword swing when Septa Sarisa appeared. An older woman with a narrow nose, thin lips, and dark eyes, she wore the gray robes of the female clergy.

“Septa Sarisa,” she said, “How can I help you?”

“I’m afraid it is your daughter, Your Grace,” she replied. “She did not show up for her lessons after breakfast this morning. I spoke to Helen, and the girl says she has not seen her.”

“That’s odd,” Rhaenyra’s brow furrowed, “Y/N isn’t known to skip lessons.”

“Could she possibly still be flying, Your Grace?”

“Hm, possibly.”

She looked over the balcony railing and called to her sons, “Boys, have either of you seen your sister?” When they both shook their heads, she turned back to Septa Sarisa, “Perhaps she is flying still. I am sure she’ll turn up, Septa, and when she does I’ll send her to you.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra planned on having a serious talk with you when you finally returned.

****

“I have already spoken with Lords Tyrell and Baratheon. They’ve all accepted a possible betrothal for the young prince.”

Alicent sat on her husband’s left as she told the council her plans for Aemond. Ever since she broke the betrothal between Targaryen and Velaryon, she’d reached out to other noble houses. It saddened her every time she came to see her son, see the eyepatch covering his wound, and know he’ll never be the same. She’d seen him struggle at the dinner table, trying his best not to knock anything over and the neck pains he’d have from twisting his head so much. Maester Orwyle told her he’d eventually learn to cope with his disability, but her heart broke regardless. Aemond. Her sensitive, shy boy who’d only wanted to have a dragon like a “true” Targaryen. What hurt most that night was the realization.

The realization that her husband, father of her children, will never care for them. His son became permanently damaged, and he did nothing. He cared more about what people said of Rhaenyra’s bastards than what they’d done to her son. Aemond only protected himself against children who’d attacked him first. Her husband did not give a single word of comfort or concern. He’d questioned Aemond, who’d lied to protect her. The only version of the story he’d accepted was the one that Rhaenyra’s sons told him.

How could she let him marry the sister of such boys?

“A marriage with House Tyrell can ensure resources are plentiful,” her father said to her. “The Tyrell’s supply a majority of their crops to Westeros; each year. We can use this match to make sure citizens of King’s Landing do not go hungry. Lord Tyrell’s daughter is a lovely maiden.”

“Lord Baratheon,” Lord Beesebury, Master of Coin, spoke up with a quavering voice, “Has four daughters. Two of them are Prince Aemond’s age, but the others are a bit older and have flowered. An alliance with House Baratheon will ensure we have their support should we ever see a time of war.”

“Let us hope it never comes to that,” Viserys said from his seat at the head of the table.

Alicent did not know how to tell him that the day might come. Rhaenyra will become queen one day, and her stomach churned knowing what that could mean. The men of this world would rather tear it down than have a woman ascend the Iron Throne. She did not doubt Rhaenyra’s abilities; she never would even now. But, with her uncle Daemon at her side and her possible Hand one day, things may become difficult. He will no doubt influence her to murder Alicent’s children, since their claims challenge Rhaenyra’s. Alicent could not let that happen.

“My lords, Your Grace,” Lord Tyland, Master of Ships, called for their attention, “House Lannister controls all the gold coins in Westeros. Our gold mines are endless and bountiful. May I propose a union between House Lannister and House Targaryen? My brother, Jason, has a daughter close to Prince Aemond’s age.”

Simply speaking about Aemond’s betrothals gave her a headache. Aemond’s recent injury resulted in his sudden spike in temper. He glared at her whenever she mentioned him marrying another girl. She knew he’d grown to love Princess Y/N, and that he’d possibly never love anyone else. Alicent sometimes scoffed when he proclaimed this out loud. He is a boy. He knows nothing of love or romance. She knew, with time, Aemond will eventually forget about you and do his duty to his family. How could he love the girl who’s family permanently damaged him? True, you had not swung the blade, but your brother had. Things would be more complicated if the marriage went forward as planned. This decision is easier for everyone involved.

“A fine suggestion,” her husband said with a smile. “I heard your niece is something to be envied in Casterly Rock.”

Lord Tyland smiled proudly, “She most certainly is.”

Beauty was one thing, but what about her personality? Was she kind? Generous? Creative or imaginative like Aemond? She’d no doubt be terrified by Vhagar, whom Aemond adored and visited daily. Would Lady Lannister be a good companion for her lonely boy? She hoped so.

The council meeting ended with Alicent telling Lord Tyland she’d consider his offer. She truly would consider it. Aemond is approaching manhood soon, and will need to marry eventually. She left the council chambers, and decided to go look for him. However, she’d gotten a few steps before Maester Hunt came towards her.

“Your Grace,” the old maester said to her, “Forgive me but I’m afraid I have urgent news.”

“What’s happened? Is it Aemond?”

“Partially. I’d gone to Prince Aemond’s quarters to examine his eye, but the boy was not there. I spoke with the maids, and they said his bed was empty this morning.”

“Hm,” she hummed, taking a moment to think, “Aemond wouldn’t miss a treatment. He told me just last night his eye hurt him deeply.” She recalled how the boy nearly cried from the pain in his eye. She’d given him tea to calm him, then kissed him goodnight. “I’ll see where he has gotten off to. He is most likely in the library with his tutor. I will tell him to see you when he is finished.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Alicent changed course and walked towards the library. Aemond might’ve gone to return books he’d borrowed and pick up new ones. When she arrived, she fully expected to find her children sitting with Maester Crowlin and learning about the histories and cultures of Westeros. Instead, she only found Helaena and Aegon. Aegon, who sat with his head in his hand and eyes half open, no doubt nursed a hangover. Helaena paid attention, however, scribbling down notes and listening intently. The seat between them, Aemond’s seat, remained empty.

“Ah, Your Grace,” Maester Crowlin, a middle-aged man with thinning brown hair, greeted her with a smile. “I was just teaching the Prince and Princess about the houses of The Reach.”

“That’s wonderful, Maester,” she replied politely. She looked to Helaena and Aegon, who snapped awake at the sound of her voice. “Where is your brother?”

“I don’t know,” Helaena replied.

“How should I know?” Aegon replied, irritably.

“You should know because you’re the one who was meant to watch him,” she said sharply. “You know things have not been easy since his injury. He needs to be watched.”

“He can do things himself now,” Aegon dismissed. “If he needs so much observation, why not leave him with a guard?”

“Did something happen to Aemond, Mother?” Helaena asked, ignoring Aegon.

“I hope not. Maester Hunt said he wasn’t in his room, and he needs to have his eye examined.”

“What’s there to examine? He’s already lost it.”

“Aegon!” she snapped, “He is your younger brother. Show a bit of concern.”

“Mother,” Aegon sat up in his seat and faced her. Out of all her children, Aegon resembled her the most. They shared the same nose and face shape. Her father said had he been born with brown hair, he’d be a spitting image of her brother, Gwayne. “Aemond probably snuck out of the palace early this morning and went to the Dragonpit to see Vhagar. Yes, yes, yes, I know he’s supposed to go with me or Helaena, but you know he likes to do things by himself. He’s been especially annoying about it since his accident. I’m sure wherever Aemond is, he’s fine.” When she appeared dissatisfied, he closed his book and groaned, “I’ll go to the Dragonpit and see if he’s there.”

“I’ll go with you,” Helaena said, closing her own book and standing with him.

“You don’t have to,” Aegon replied. “I can go by myself.”

“Aemond is my brother as well,” she said. “I want to see if he is alright.”

“Ugh, you women,” Aegon rolled his eyes, “Aemond’s fine. You’ll see.”

Alicent allowed her children to leave. Aegon might be a little reluctant at times, but she’d noticed a very slight change in his behavior towards Aemond. Perhaps he felt guilty for not protecting his brother. Perhaps he realized his constant bullying and teasing caused his younger brother to seek out the largest dragon and claim it as his own, resulting in the fight at Driftmark. She reassured herself that they’d find him. They had to. Where else could he have gone?

***

This was stupid. Aegon sat beside Helaena in the wheelhouse taking them through the city. He’d prefer to have gone alone, since then he can sneak into a tavern for a drink before continuing to the Dragonpit on the hill. Helaena is too soft for the city. She’s too gentle and delicate. Aegon knew the streets of King’s Landing like the back of his hand; if Aemond snuck off somewhere outside the Dragonpit, Aegon could venture alone to find him. Of course, he said none of this to his mother. She already disapproved of his lifestyle; he’d give her no more reasons to scold him.

“Do you really think he is alright?” Helaena asked him.

“Yes. He’s probably with Vhagar right now, talking to her or stroking her.”

Aemond loved dragons. He knew everything about them, and wanted one for as long as Aegon could remember. When he claimed Vhagar, Aegon admitted he’d been impressed. He never expected that from him. Vhagar is old, battle-worn, and too large for the world. Only the bravest of riders could’ve claimed her, since it is the dragon who chooses really. It made him realize that Aemond might not be as big of a twat as he’d once thought. Unfortunately, due to his injury, Aemond could not fly Vhagar right away. The Dragon Keepers heavily advised against it, since he needs to adjust to his new vision before doing so. Aegon managed to feel a drop of pity. He knew when he bonded with Sunfyre, he’d wanted to ride the dragon immediately.

“Things have not been easy for him,” she continued, “Since he lost his sight.”

“He is not blind. He has one eye left.”

“But he still has difficulty regardless. What if he flew Vhagar?”

“He’s not supposed to.”

“When has that stopped Aemond from doing anything?”

He nodded. He supposed his sister was right. He looked over at her, seeing the worry on her face. They’d been married a few months now, and he still had not taken her maidenhead. He couldn’t find it in himself to do it. He didn’t particularly like Helaena in that manner. They share nothing in common. She’d be better suited to Aemond, but his mother insisted on the betrothal. Targaryens have wed brother-to-sister for centuries; it only made sense for the eldest boy to marry his younger sister for blood purity. Aegon honestly tried, but he’d drunk too much at the wedding feast and could not perform his duty. It’d upset his mother considerably. He scanned briefly over her soft features, her dreamy violet eyes and long mane of silver hair. She is not ugly; in fact, quite the opposite. He realized this is one of the few times she spoke to him normally. Usually, she’s spitting out riddles and nonsense he couldn’t decipher. But, that wasn’t important.

“The Dragon Keepers will have stopped him. They know he cannot fly.”

The wheelhouse went throughout the city until they reached the large doors of The Dragonpit. A tall and wide fortress, Aegon knew down below were tunnels and caves where the dragons lived. The high domed ceiling brought in rays of light inside the dimly lit space. Helaena walked behind him as he approached the doors. Any minute now, they’ll see Aemond with Vhagar, bring him back to the castle, and his mother will be relieved. One of the older Dragon Keepers approached him when he walked into the center of the room.

“My Prince, welcome. Have you come to see Sunfyre?” he asked in High Valyrian.

“No. We have come to look for Aemond. He was not in his bed this morning, and our mother is concerned. Is he here?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Prince Aemond has not been here at all today.”

“Are you certain?” Helaena interrupted. “Our mother deeply worries for him.”

“I am certain, Princess. If Prince Aemond had arrived, we would have known.”

A sense of dread filled the bottom of Aegon’s stomach. “Is Vhagar here?”

“Vhagar is too big for the caves,” he said. “She often becomes hostile and irritated when left in the caves for too long, so a keeper must have let her out for a flight. But, I assure you, Prince Aemond is not here.”

“Let us check the caves,” Aegon told him. “He might have broken in when nobody noticed him.”

“I believe that is impossible. We have Keepers patrolling day and night.”

“Aemond is intelligent. He would know how to avoid detection.”

Unable to argue further, the aged Keeper went to round up others for a search party. Aegon could not go back without him. If he did, his mother would assume he hadn’t truly bothered or did not care enough to try. He’d tell her that she was wrong, but she’d never believe him. His mother often thought the worst of him. He did whatever she asked; he defended her whenever anyone spoke ill of her, and stood at her side. Still, she continued to scold and berate him. Nothing he did mattered. So, he must come back with Aemond. He needed to prove that he could do something worthwhile.

Helaena followed him into the tunnels, each sibling carrying a torch as they walked through. The thick smell of dragons hung in the air, being blown through by gusts of air. Aegon passed each iron door, taking care to mind his steps, and hoped he’d find Aemond somewhere.

“How do you speak High Valyrian so fluently?” Helaena asked him.

“What?” he looked at her, surprised by the sudden question.

“Valyrian. You speak it well. How? You hardly pay attention in lessons, but you speak it just as well as Aemond.”

Pink filled Aegon’s cheeks, but he hid them by facing forward. “I…” his stomach churned thinking about it, “I guess I picked it up quickly.”

Not completely truthful. Aegon studied High Valyrian, the language of his ancestors, in hopes of impressing his father. He knew about his father’s fascination with Old Valyria, and thought if he learned it quick enough, he might receive some sort of praise. Instead, his father simply acknowledged it. It’d been the only time Aegon showed any interests in his studies, and his father did not care. Aegon always thought he’d been the only one Viserys disliked. Aemond and Helaena stuck more to Targaryen traditions than he did. They did not disappoint anyone like he did. But, when Aemond lost his eye and his father’s true favoritism showed, he realized it was not only him. His father did not care about any of them. He did not like them. They are not offspring from his first wife, the beloved Queen Aemma, so they aren’t important.

Aegon learned that night that his mother, sister and brother were all he had left.

“You speak it very well,” she said, getting closer behind him.

“Thank you.”

Aegon noticed, as they walked, they were alone. Usually, they are surrounded by people, and Aegon has an excuse to avoid her. But right now, in the empty tunnels and caves, it was only them. He gulped, smelling a hint of her perfume in the air.

“I don’t think Aemond is here,” she told him. “We would have found him by now.”

He conceded. She was right. “Wonderful,” he sighed, “What am I supposed to tell Mother? That I failed to do the one thing she expected of me….again?”

“This isn’t a failure,” Helaena reasoned.

“We came here to find Aemond. We didn’t find Aemond. I’d consider that a failure, wouldn’t you?”

“Well,” she hesitated, following him as he started his way back, “Perhaps he’s somewhere else in the city. He could’ve tried to come here on his own and gotten lost. We can go into the city to find him.”

He snorted, “You going into King’s Landing?”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re too…”

“‘Too’ what?”

He heard the firmness in her soft tone. “There are places in the city that noblewomen like you shouldn’t go to,” he said. “It’s better if I go on my own. Maybe send the City Watch to look for him. But you, Sister, must go back to the keep. You can tell Mother that I went to find him.”

Maybe then she’ll be happy with him for once.

****

Alicent spent most of her afternoon waiting for Aegon and Helaena to return. She hoped with Helaena by his side, Aegon may actually stay on task and not be distracted. It is usually a gamble sending Aegon to do anything, since he normally came back without having done it. Sitting in her apartment, she found it difficult to eat or focus on anything else. She tried busying herself with her daily tasks: figuring out more marriage proposals, joining prayer at the palace sept, and tending to her household. She hoped if she kept her mind occupied, time would pass quickly and she’d have Aemond home soon. Yet, as the hours went on, she’d yet to receive word from Aegon or Helaena. She immediately felt guilty for asking them to go. She should have sent Ser Criston with them, but she’d tasked him with having the Kingsguard search the castle. Aemond could have easily gone down into the dungeons or be holed up somewhere else. She prayed they found him soon.

She’d been staring off into her fireplace, twirling her necklace between her fingers absentmindedly, when the door opened. She spotted Helaena first, her breath catching in her throat.

“Helaena,” she moved over to her, clasping both her daughter’s hands, “Have you found him?”

“I’m afraid not, Mother,” she said sadly. “The Dragon Keepers say they did not see him, and he was not in any of the dragon dens. Aegon went with the City Watch to look for him.”

“Aegon? Aegon is still searching?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” she nodded. “He said Aemond might have gotten lost in the city, and he knows it better than me. He ordered the commander to have his men look for him, while he went on ahead to Flea Bottom.”

Alicent groaned. King’s Landing is a hub of distractions for her son. She knew he’d eventually stop looking, find a brothel or tavern, and drink the night away. He’d come stumbling back, drunk and absent his brother still. She plopped down onto her couch, poured herself a glass of wine, and drank. If Aemond is in the city, she hated to think of what might befall him. He might be mugged or assaulted. He might be murdered. She pictured a group of men hauling her son away, and trembled. Tears started to well in her eyes, while Helaena looked uncertain of what to do. Helaena. So sweet and kind, yet so unsure of certain social customs. She might have been a good match for Aemond, but Alicent wanted so badly to avoid her marrying Jace, she gave her to Aegon. She gazed outside to see the sun still in the sky. It is not too late. Aemond might come back on his own.

He was always the clever one.

“Your Grace,” Ser Criston appeared next, giving her a bow when addressing her.

“Ser Criston,” she breathed, putting her cup down to walk over to him, “Have you found him?”

“I’m afraid not, My Queen,” he replied apologetically. “We searched the entire keep and found no sign of Prince Aemond.”

She groaned in despair. “Where could he have gone?” she asked him, her composure starting to slip. “Aemond is not one to stray away from home. He never leaves the Keep except for the Dragonpit. Why would he leave and not tell me?”

She paced. Her nerves refused to let her sit any longer. Briefly, she thought of Rhaenyra, who’d tell her to breathe deeply and bring back her focus. She’d felt it slipping so often these days. Losing Aemond had only worsened the anxiety in her bones. She suddenly started picking at her nail beds, but immediately stopped herself.

“The Prince will be found, Your Grace,” Ser Criston said gently. “Prince Aemond is a smart and capable young man. I’m sure wherever he is, he is safe.”

“We do not know that,” she cried. “We do not know because he is not here. He…” she breathed deeply again, “He must be so frightened.”

“He is fine,” Ser Criston reached for her, and brought her over to sit. “Hopefully, Prince Aegon will return with good news.”

“Or drunk.”

“Aegon would not drink now,” he insisted. “Not when his brother is missing.”

“You do not know Aegon.”

“I know that he cares for his little brother,” he said, “And you and Helaena. You are all he has. I trust Prince Aegon is doing his best to find Aemond right now. We must practice patience and wait for news.”

She’d done her waiting. Far too much of it. She would not be satisfied until her son came home.

****

Rhaenyra stood on her balcony overlooking the ocean. Her eyes stared right at the darkening clouds ahead of her. Rays of yellow and orange broke through the thinner clouds, while night time began overcoming them. Nobody saw you all day. Septa Sarisa said you never showed up for any of your lessons. Maester Gerardys said you hadn’t visited him today. Jace and Luke said they had not seen you either. She’d sent the household guard to search throughout the castle, but no sign of you was found. Rhaenyra could not help imagining the worst.

You’d run away.

“Rhaenyra?” she heard Laenor call gently behind her.

“The sun is almost going down,” she told him, sniffing back worried tears. “She always comes home before sundown. She doesn’t like flying at night. She says it’s harder to see.”

“I’m sure she’ll be home soon,” he comforted, putting his hands on her shoulders. “You know our little dove. She gets carried away when she rides.”

“She does love her adventures.”

It was true. It wasn’t uncommon of you to take long trips, and come back with treasures or stories for your brothers. Lords and ladies often spoke of seeing Starshine soaring through the skies above them or the young princess showing up at their doorsteps with her dragon. They commented that you were a courteous guest, who never overstayed her welcome. You liked being free in a world where you’re given so little of it. Rhaenyra never scolded you. Westeros may one day become yours; you should know its people. But, you always came home. That was the one thread of hope she clung on to.

Laenor saw the concern, and said, “If she is not home in an hour, I will send men into the village to look for her. She might have lost track of the time in a pub or a pot shop there.”

You didn’t drink. You are far too young for ale or wine. But, you did enjoy the songs, the people, and the stories. She knew you talked to certain people in the small village below. It was another freedom Rhaenyra let you explore at your leisure. Her father let her have those small bits, so she let you have them as well. Rhaenyra consented to this, and decided she’d dress for dinner. Her lady-in-waiting helping her, she imagined where you might be right now. She smiled thinking of you sitting on a bartop in your riding leathers, listening to a bard play a raunchy song you’re too young to understand. You’ll be talking with the barmaids or the barman, asking curious questions about commoners’ lives. You might find a group of sailors who recognized you, who’d tell you stories from across The Narrow Sea. If anything, with the Gods’ favor, you might’ve run into a man from Driftmark, who will bring you to Dragonstone safely.

Rhaenyra arrived for dinner, and saw Jace and Luke sitting with Laenor. She’d fed Joffrey already, and left him to sleep in his cradle. Her eyes swept over the table over and over as if she might’ve missed you somewhere.

“Y/N-” she began to say but Laenor stopped her.

“I sent men into the village,” he said. “They’ll come back with her, I’m sure of it.”

“Mother,” Luke spoke when she sat down, “Did Y/N run away?”

“Of course not,” she assured him. “Why would your sister run away? Her home and her family are here.”

“She cried a lot when you told her she wouldn’t marry Aemond,” he replied, sticking his fork into a thick slice of beef. He tried cutting it on his own, but Laenor came to his aid. “What if she ran away to King’s Landing?”

“Your sister wouldn’t do that. She’s most likely in the village, like your father said.”

“What if she’s not?”

This question came from Jace. She saw the sullenness in his face, and frowned. “She is. Don’t worry about your sister,” she said to them, “She’s a strong girl. She can handle herself.”

Rhaenyra forced herself to swallow her own words. You might be a girl, but you are strong. You ride the fastest dragon of the clan; the Dragon Keepers told her a rider needs a specific kind of strength for that. You stand up and face things, rather than sit down and take them. If you are lost somewhere, you will make your way back home. Rhaenyra told herself if you did not appear by morning, she’ll take Syrax and look for you herself. She distracted herself with her husband and sons, anxiously awaiting news from one of the guards in the village. It wasn’t like you to be so late.

***

They didn’t find him. Aegon returned to her as the night grew darker, sweaty with his hair tied from his face, stinking of the city, and without Aemond. Her stomach dropped. She thought she might be sick. Alicent plopped back onto her couch, no longer interested in the food on the table nearby. One plate was picked at, while the other untouched. She had the cook make Aemond’s favorite dinner, as if the Gods might bring him back to her if she did this. Her father stood nearby, silent and concerned as she wept.

“I will have the men keep looking,” he told her, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Aemond cannot have gone far. Even if he did, he’d come home soon. He’s a good boy.”

Yes, a good boy. Her good boy. Her son. Images of Aemond in various disastrous scenarios filled her head, and she stopped herself from sobbing. Aemond’s disability only made things worse. The world did not build itself for a boy missing an eye, and it will not adjust either.

“He must be in so much pain, Father,” she wept, tears watering her eyes, “His eye…It pains him so…How is he going to manage without his medicine? He must be suffering so much.”

“Aemond is fine,” he assured her again. “Alicent,” he turned her to face him, “Aemond is a strong, smart, capable boy. He will come home.”

“Aemond’s not dim-witted,” Aegon chimed in. When they looked at him, he continued, “I mean to say that he will not go into situations blindly. He’s cautious.”

“I will send word to lords nearby,” her father told her, standing up, “And tell them to keep an eye out for the prince.”

“Psh, tell them to search the skies, if they must,” Aegon scoffed. “Aemond wouldn’t go anywhere without Vhagar.”

“The Dragon Keepers told you nothing of the beast?” Her father asked him.

“Only that she doesn’t fit in the dragonpit, so they release her from time to time. They say she most likely was let out by a keeper…”

Her father studied her son, “And you believe differently?”

“I think Aemond snuck out of the keep sometime during the night when the rest of us slept,” he began, “And made his way to the dragonpit. King’s Landing at midnight is the perfect time for a prince to go walking about without being noticed, and Aemond is short. He can easily be overlooked. He cannot get into the dragonpit without alerting anyone, so he must’ve waited until they released Vhagar. Then it is a matter of waiting for her to land. Aemond calls her when he needs her, and she obeys.”

Alicent looked upon him in surprise. Aegon is often fully in his cups by night time, so he isn’t much use to anyone. She’d fully expected to hear he’d lost himself in a pleasure house or a tavern, but he’d come to give his report himself, fully sober. It comforted her that even if he pretended otherwise, Aegon did care in his own way. She loved that about him.

“Are you saying he’s run away?” her father asked him.

“It is a possibility. Otherwise, where is he and why has he not come home? Aemond would have at least left a note or given worse of his whereabouts to not upset Mother,” he answered. He watched both of them for a moment and said, “I’ll take Sunfyre and go searching in the morning.”

“Aegon, that is not my wish,” she stood up and walked to him. “If something ill has befallen your brother, I do not wish for it to happen to you.”

“I will be fine, Mother. I know the city and the lands around it,” he then gave a reassuring smile, “I pay attention in lessons occasionally.”

She gave him a soft smile, caressing his cheek. Moments like this were rare and few in between, but she cherished each one. Her eldest. Her wildest, most reckless child. The boy who is prone to distractions, libations, and indulgences. She kissed his cheek, then released him.

“I will go with him,” said Helaena, who’d stopped sewing to speak.

“You do not-” Aegon began but was quickly cut off by Helaena.

“-I will,” she said firmly, staring at Aegon. “Aemond needs all of us, not just you.”

Yes, he needed them all.

***

She’s majestic. Aemond could not think of any other word; it fit her perfectly. Laying in the grass outside the little shack, a blanket of darkness went over the sky so it was dotted with stars. Aemond rarely saw the stars in King’s Landing; the city lights and tall towers blotted them out. Yet, here in this quiet island devoid of people, he saw every single one. He enjoyed connecting them together to make his own constellations and shapes. Then, he realized he’ll only ever see half the sky again.

“Do you think anyone is worried about us?” you asked him.

“I’m sure my mother is,” he answered. “She has been very…suffocating lately. She made Helaena and Aegon watch over me all the time; she never lets me out of her sight and is always fussing over me.”

“She only cares about you.”

“But it becomes bothersome,” he replied. “Your mother must be worried about you too.”

“She will be, I suspect.” You both sat in silence for a while, then you asked, “Aemond?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think they’ll ever find us?”

Aemond would rather imagine anything else. Their little island is not too far from Driftmark, he knew. It’s possible a passing ship might see Vhagar or Starshine flying around and tell Lord Corlys, your grandfather. He knew both your families will find you soon. It was honestly only a matter of time. His hand grasped yours absentmindedly.

“It’s possible,” he said, not wanting to lie to you. Aemond wished he could; he wanted you to be in the here and now with him, not in the miserable future. “I hope they never do. My mother wants to betroth me to someone else.” If he never went back, then he couldn’t marry another girl. “She told me she’s found girls she thinks will suit me well.” He turned to see your stony face, eyes flared slightly with jealousy. “But, I don’t like any of them. Truthfully. I’ve never met any of them before.”

“What if she marries you to Floris Baratheon?”

“Who’s that?”

“One of Lord Borros’s daughters. She’s said to be very pretty.”

“My mother could marry me to the prettiest girl in the world, and I still wouldn’t like her as much.”

This made you smile softly, turning your head to look at his. He loved how your eyes glimmered when you looked at him. It made such a difference from those he received at home.

At home, people turned their heads whenever he walked past. Even if he wore his eyepatch, they knew what laid underneath it and it disgusted them. His mother told him wearing the patch will protect his socket from any further damage, but he knew the real reason. Such a hideous scar churned the stomachs of most proper ladies. They saw his injury and looked away, pretending not to notice the wound starting above his brow and down to his cheek. What girl would want to marry him when he was missing parts? An important part, he might add. It made living so much harder. All the skills he’d learned from Ser Criston with both eyes, he must relearn with only one. Ser Criston, thankfully, is an understanding teacher, who has taught him new maneuvers and techniques to use against well-visioned opponents.

He’d begun to ask if you wanted a cinnamon bread he’d brought with him before a stabbing pain came to his eye. Aemond bolted upright, cupping the pain surging in his socket. It throbbed. It ached. He gritted his teeth. He ripped off his eyepatch and put his palm to the wound. They’d taken the stitches off already, removing the eyelid since he no longer needed it, so the socket remained empty. He growled through his pain, hardly hearing anything you said. His normal eye started to tear up. No. No, you can’t see him cry. You can’t see him like this. Quickly, he ran away towards the trees. He heard you calling after him, but he continued running. The forest was darker at night, so he couldn't see with his regular eye.

“Aemond, wait!” he heard your voice echo through the forest. “Please, wait! Aemond, it’s not safe-”

He hadn’t seen the tree. Aemond charged right into the trunk on his left side, the force knocking him onto his back and making his shoulder burn. He had not dislodged it, but the pain still burned. Aemond curled into a ball on the ground, clutching his eye and weeping. He heard your footsteps disturbing the twigs and leaves on the ground until you knelt beside him.

“Aemond,” you said softly, persuading him to sit up. He heard you uncork a bottle, “Drink this, please. It’ll help you feel better.”

Milk of the poppy. He’d stolen it from the maester’s stores before he left, but he hoped not to need it. Aemond sat up shakily, gingerly taking the bottle and sipping it. The herbal milk thickly coated his tongue, yet he still drank it. In a few minutes, his pain would subside, but the throbbing pain of his socket continued to plague him.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” he said to you, drawing his knees to his chin and not looking at you. “It…It still hurts sometimes.”

“I’m so sorry, Aemond,” he felt your delicate fingers brush through his hair. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But, it’s my family’s fault you’re suffering this way now.”

Aemond thought about that night. He’d felt so confident; he’d finally claimed his dragon, and you’d be in love with him for sure. Aemond remembered thinking he might kiss you the next time he saw you. Then, your brothers and cousins ruined it. They’d attacked him when all he’d done was claim a dragon. The other riders taunted him for not having one. He thought it only made sense to have that same behavior. Why was it alright for them to bully him, but not for him to bully others? They’d maimed him, and never said they were sorry. His own father did not care.

“Here,” you handed him his eyepatch, “You dropped this.”

“Thank you.”

He turned his head and placed it back on his head. He didn’t want you to see it. If you saw it, you’d be disgusted with him and leave. Aemond already hated seeing the wound itself in mirrors; he hated imagining your face when you did.

Slowly, you and Aemond walked back to the house. You let him rest on the bed rolls that replaced the bug-infested straw mattress, while you made a fire in the hearth. Soon, warm light spilled from the fireplace and filled a part of the house. Aemond wondered how people lived in such small houses. You suspected a family once lived here, since you’d found broken toys behind a divider with a rotting bassinet. The back door led to a small campfire with a spit hanging over it, a rack for hanging animal skins implied that they must’ve hunted for their food. It must’ve been a simple living. People in King’s Landing navigated dangerous back alleys and streets, while people on this island lived quiet lives. Seeing you standing by the firelight, he realized he might like living this way. No servants whispering and spying on him. No fretful mother or indifferent father. He could live this way with you for as long as he could.

“Is it better?” you asked carefully, coming towards the bed.

“A bit,” he said.

You’d gone behind the wooden divider to change into your nightgown, a long dress that ended at your ankles. A cool breeze blew in through the open windows, combatting the warmth of the fire. Aemond’s cheeks grew hot when you slipped underneath the blankets faintly smelled of dragon; he remained on top to avoid your bodies touching. You still snuggled close to him, the closest your body has ever been to his.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable?” you asked. “Wearing the patch to sleep?”

“No,” he fibbed. He normally didn’t wear it to bed, but his stomach tightened taking it off in front of you.

“You don’t have to hide it from me.” The words broke the silence that’d grown between you. He caught you gazing at the patch. “I won’t think any less of you for it.”

When he did not respond, you gingerly reached forward. His entire body stiffened as you gently removed the patch. He sensed the gasp you withheld. An empty hole remained where his eye once was; the dark, scarred tissue around the socket made for an unpleasant sight. It disgusted him sometimes. The heat of tears rushed up his neck to his face, causing him to bury it in the pillow. He wished you’d never removed it.

“I’m a monster,” he sniffled, not looking at you. “You wish to marry a monster.”

“You’re not a monster, Aemond. You’re strong and brave and smart. Very smart and very brave.”

“Please, do not lie to me.”

“I never have,” you insisted, scooting towards him. The warmth of your body under the thin sheet spread over his own. “Aemond,” you slipped your hand under his cheek so he looked at you, “You’re the only one out of all of us who approached Vhagar…Vhagar, the oldest and mightest dragon of them all. You bonded with her because…because she sensed your courage and strength. Vhagar is too big for the dragonpit, so I think she’s sort of gotten used to being alone. When you approached her, she might have seen that you were lonely too, and wanted you as her rider.” Your thumb wiped the tear going down his temple, “I do not care if you’re whole or not, I still am…fond of you.”

‘Fond’. You’re ‘fond’ of him. You’d never love him; not now that he’d lost his eye. It’ll keep you from loving him completely. Every dream he had of you suddenly vanished, and he cried again. The thoughts he once envisioned of you two being like Jaeheryes and Alysanne would forever remain daydreams. How could you possibly love him when he looked like this? He blamed your brothers. They’d attacked him, and were never punished. They didn’t want him to marry you, so they took his eye. Now, the words ‘I love you, Aemond’ will never fall from your lips.

You put your arms around him as he laid on his back, the sheet still separating you, and you let him cry. He forced himself to keep them quiet, but his shaking body gave him away. Neither of you said anything, yet your gentle squeeze of assurance soon quieted him. Finally, the medicine started working its magic, and he soon fell to sleep beside you.

****

A/N: Awww, poor Aemond! Poor everybody really. These kids really have everyone worried, but they only want to be together <3 I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you guys liked it! Thanks for reading, as always.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x yn #house of the dragon #hotd drabbles #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #ewan mitchell #leo ashton

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sunnysssol · 1 month

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I see Alfred as House Lannister coded and Ivan as House Stark coded, tbh. Suzie could be a Blackwood, or a Tully maybe, idk.

I love that!! I agree so much with Alfred as a Lannister, but to mirror canon I think he'd be really miserable after years of disagreeing with Arthur contending with things like his own pride and maybe even out of resentment for being such a shit father. Maybe he'll kill him the same way Tyrion did Tywin, LOL 😭 as for Ivan, I see parallels between him and Aegon the Conqueror (two sisters, plagued with visions, etc.), but I can't deny that the Targaryen I compare him the most to is Maegor. Before his injury, anyway. I love Ivan neutral and complicated and all that, but I really do enjoy villains 😈 By god he'd make a dashing Stark though– tall, strong and cunning with just the right amount of iciness. Winter is coming and so am I 🫣🫡 LMAO

And for Suzie !! As a Targaryen stan first and foremost, I drew inspiration from Rhaena. Or even Mya Stone! But that's just my bias for mountains talking. I can absolutely see her as a Tully though– proud and strong like Hoster Tully was in his youth. And definitely protective of her children (if any) like Catelyn, barring the bastardphobia LMAO but oh, you mentioned the Blackwoods and I had the strongest urge to draw Suzie like Alysanne 😔💖 it's also become perfect since I darkened her hair hshfjshf

#qs #sol's musings #i have to draw this IWHDJAJ #alfred in the drippiest doublet in lann/ister red and gold... he'd be absolutely miserable but at least it slays sjfbjsjf #thank youuu for the question!!! i loved yapping about this HSHFJS

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istumpysk · 10 months

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Hello! I’ve really been enjoying your chapter rereads. I’m a big fan of both Daenerys and Sansa (although unlike many Dany fans, I like her for her potential as a villain. I’ll be a fan of the character whether or not GRRM decides to follow through with her villain arc. There are things that she could do that would make me stop liking her but for now I hold the position that I like her, hero or villain).

Have you ever given much thought to potential anti-parallels between Dany and Sansa? They do share a lot of common experiences but with mostly different outcomes and I think their trajectories are clearly pretty different. I think there’s some really fertile ground for comparison.

1. Both are forced into marriages with much older men as political pawns. Both are traumatic experiences but as a result, Sansa ends up losing power whereas Dany gains it. 2. Sansa’s magical creature dies (RIP Lady) and Dany’s magical creatures are brought back from the dead. 3. Both are in a sort of exile as a result of the crimes of their fathers. Difference is that Ned didn’t actually really commit a crime and Aerys was a monster. 4. Both have a dark mentor who is also a spy, who makes unwanted advances and specifically force a kiss upon them. Both girls remind these men of another woman they loved. 5. Hair is somewhat significant. Sansa has distinctive Tully auburn, which she must dye. Dany has distinctive Valyrian silver, which is burned away. 6. Both have a dead older brother who incited great violence by having extramarital affairs (I guess Robb wasn’t married yet but I count it). 7. Both are romantics who love stories/songs and go through a sort of disillusionment. However, Sansa becomes more aware and realistic whereas Dany falls deeper into delusion. 8. Lemons. The house with the red door and the lemon tree vs lemon cakes.

Im still only like 30% through AFfC but know how it and ADwD differ from the show so idc about book spoilers. I’d really love to hear your input and if you can think of any other parallels or anti-parallels!

Hey anon, great list!

Admittedly, I suck at drawing direct parallels between characters, so I can only think of the contrasting aspects of their personalities, such as their leadership styles, their approaches to power, their notions of identity and self-perception, etc.

One thing that does stand out is how differently the author explores the themes of home and motherhood in both their POVs. A couple of people have written about it before, perhaps you'd like to read it.

Thanks for your message. :)

#stumpy ask #anon

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jackoshadows · 2 years

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There was already a post about this, however, to reiterate:

The First Men are white. Canon Starks are white. Nowhere in the text does it imply that canon Starks are poc. The comparison between Jon and Robb - ‘dark where Robb was fair’ - is about hair color.

Ned is white. Jon and Arya are white. It is explicitly mentioned in the text for Arya.

“No." Her face was dirty, and her tears left pink tracks down her cheeks. - Eddard, AGoT

She wished she could take off her clothes and swim, gliding through the warm water like an skinny pink otter. Maybe she could swim all the way to Winterfell. - Arya, ACoK

"It takes no matter." Even if the Titan did eat juicy pink girl flesh, Arya would not fear him. She was a scrawny thing, no proper meal for a giant, and almost eleven, practically a woman grown. - Arya, AFfC

She stood on the end of the dock, pale and goose fleshed and shivering in the fog. - Arya, AFfC

Down in the vaults, she untied Cat's threadbare cloak, pulled Cat's fishy brown tunic over her head, kicked off Cat's salt-stained boots, climbed out of Cat's smallclothes, and bathed in lemonwater to wash away the very smell of Cat of the Canals. When she emerged, soaped and scrubbed pink with her brown hair plastered to her cheeks, Cat was gone. - Arya, AFfC

The Starks are considered less good looking than other families by non Northern houses in Westeros. The looks of the auburn haired, blue eyed Tullys are often favorably praised compared to the long faced, brown haired, grey eyed Starks by some of the characters in the text. One should therefore think of the implications in interpreting the Starks as darker skinned in fanon. Often times the Tully looking Starks are colored brightly while Jon, Arya and Ned are drawn in darker, duller shades.

These people are also in the North, one of the coldest places in Westeros. They are not getting a tan. Even if they were, there’s no reason for why Jon, Arya and Ned alone get a tan and not the others.

I am sure that, for the most part, artists doing this are not implying anything when Jon and Arya are drawn with darker skin compared to their siblings who are canonically praised for being more good looking.

As a poc, I would love for my favorite characters to be brown. Maybe artists think it’s canon, maybe they think it’s representation. However keep in mind the implications here considering eurocentric standards of beauty and colorism.

Just be aware and spend a few seconds thinking about why you are drawing the ‘plain looking’ Starks in darker shades, when this is not true in canon.

It’s funny that this fandom gets up in arms every time we state that Arya is pretty or all the complaints about her fancasts being too pretty. And yet, there is no discourse about how the so called ‘ugly’ Starks are a lot of the time drawn in darker shades compared to their more ‘beautiful’ Tully looking siblings and Catelyn in fanart.

#asoiaf #Jon Snow #Arya Stark #Ned Stark #Eddard Stark #fandom stuff

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elegantwoes · 1 year

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The clans have grown bolder since Lord Jon died,” Ser Donnel said. He was a stocky youth of twenty years, earnest and homely, with a wide nose and a shock of thick brown hair. '

The chapter starts off with us being reminded of the Vale knights and Mountain Clan conflict and how the tension between them is growing.

She liked that less well. Without Bronn she would never have reached the Vale, she knew; the sellsword was as fierce a fighter as she had ever seen, and his sword had helped cut them through to safety. Yet for all that, Catelyn misliked the man. Courage he had, and strength, but there was no kindness in him, and little loyalty.'

Catelyn’s wisdom is visible in this part. Competence is a good thing in a person, but more often than not moral compass and integrity is more important. What use is skill if you cannot use it for good?

'She says yes, provided she finds a man who suits her,” Brynden Tully said, “but she has already rejected Lord Nestor and a dozen other suitable men. She swears that this time she will choose her lord husband.'

I almost want to say something but I will keep my mouth shut.. for now.

'Tyrion Lannister glanced up doubtfully. “And beyond that?” Brynden smiled. “Beyond that, the path is too steep even for mules. We ascend on foot the rest of the way. Or perchance you’d prefer to ride a basket. The Eyrie clings to the mountain directly above Sky, and in its cellars are six great winches with long iron chains to draw supplies up from below. If you prefer, my lord of Lannister, I can arrange for you to ride up with the bread and beer and apples.'

Brynden is ruthless. It seems like sharp wit is a Tully trait. #Tullysforthewin

'My brother is undoubtedly arrogant,” Tyrion Lannister replied. “My father is the soul of avarice, and my sweet sister Cersei lusts for power with every waking breath. I, however, am innocent as a little lamb. Shall I bleat for you?” He grinned.'

I can give credit when it’s due. Tyrion is actually funny here.

'It did not please her; it was an effort for Catelyn to keep the smile on her face. Stone was a bastard’s name in the Vale, as Snow was in the north, and Flowers in Highgarden; in each of the Seven Kingdoms, custom had fashioned a surname for children born with no names of their own. Catelyn had nothing against this girl, but suddenly she could not help but think of Ned’s bastard on the Wall, and the thought made her angry and guilty, both at once. She struggled to find words for a reply.'

Call my crazy but I always interpreted this part as Catelyn remembering what she said to Jon in his second chapter and her feeling guilty at her outburst.

'She remembered what her uncle had said of baskets and winches. “The Lannisters may have their pride,” she told Mya, “but the Tullys are born with better sense. I have ridden all day and the best part of a night. Tell them to lower a basket. I shall ride with the turnips.'

And it’s because of this why the Tullys will survive but the Lannisters will not. Again #Tullysforthewin

'It had been five years, in truth; five cruel years, for Lysa. They had taken their toll. Her sister was two years the younger, yet she looked older now. Shorter than Catelyn, Lysa had grown thick of body, pale and puffy of face. She had the blue eyes of the Tullys, but hers were pale and watery, never still. Her small mouth had turned petulant. As Catelyn held her, she remembered the slender, high-breasted girl who’d waited beside her that day in the sept at Riverrun. How lovely and full of hope she had been. All that remained of her sister’s beauty was the great fall of thick auburn hair that cascaded to her waist.'

I don’t really like how Lysa is described in here. George RR Martin’s contempt for her is too strong in this passage.

'My quarrels?” Catelyn could scarce believe what she was hearing. A great fire burned in the hearth, but there was no trace of warmth in Lysa’s voice. “They were your quarrels first, sister. It was you who sent me that cursed letter, you who wrote that the Lannisters had murdered your husband.'

Catelyn’s outrage is so obvious in here. If there was one picture that could sum up her mental state right now then it’s this.

'Quiet!” Lysa snapped at her. “You’re scaring the boy.” Little Robert took a quick peek over his shoulder at Catelyn and began to tremble. His doll fell to the rushes, and he pressed himself against his mother. “Don’t be afraid, my sweet baby,” Lysa whispered. “Mother’s here, nothing will hurt you.” She opened her robe and drew out a pale, heavy breast, tipped with red. The boy grabbed for it eagerly, buried his face against her chest, and began to suck. Lysa stroked his hair.'

The way Lysa coddles Sweetrobin is unsettling to say the least.

'Even if they could bring an army through the mountains and past the Bloody Gate, the Eyrie is impregnable. You saw for yourself. No enemy could ever reach us up here.'

If you consider how many times this line is uttered throughout the book series you know it will be disproven at some point. Will it happen in the form of the mountain clans invading, or worse, in the form of a dragon?

'Catelyn wanted to slap her. Uncle Brynden had tried to warn her, she realized.'

Catelyn is really funny when her temper flares up.

''Make him fly,” Robert said eagerly.' Lysa stroked her son’s hair. “Perhaps we will,” she murmured. “Perhaps that is just what we will do.'

Don’t make false promises you can’t keep, Lysa. A woman like me will be disappointed.

Next chapter we are at our reluctant detective: Ned Stark.

#asoiaf reread project #agot reread #Catelyn Stark #Lysa Tully

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ladycatofwinterfell · 4 months

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🥶

More hunger games au! Ned and Cat’s interview pre the quarter quell games

“Now I know you have an obvious ally in a person that’s not from your own district. Catelyn, would you come down here again?”

Catelyn gives the interviewer a quick smile before with ease making her way down the stairs again. It doesn’t seem to be an issue despite her long skirt. Flowing blue and sea green that ends in white tulle that’s like foam. She carries the colours of a wave and moves with the elegance of one.

Donella gives up her seat, makes a quick bow towards the audience and instead walks towards where the other victors are standing. They give her a lukewarm applause, more interested in Catelyn. For a short second Ned feels sorry for that she has to be in Cat’s shadow, he’ll have to apologise for it afterwards.

Catelyn takes the chair with ease and her hand finds Ned’s before he has time to think of it. His world is crumbling around him, but at least there’s the familiar feeling of her cool hand in his. He looks at her and loves her. She’ll win, she has to.

“Hello, my darling ally” Catelyn says, a soft smile on her lips.

She’s so good at that. Smiling even as there’s rage and grief behind her eyes. He can feel it, she’s squeezing his hand harder than usually.

“Hello, wife.”

With her free hand she begins arranging her skirts around her, only then he notices that there’s several layers. Her stylist spared no expenses, it seems. Though who can blame him, she’s gorgeous. And every inch a winner with her red hair braided into a crown around her head.

“How long is it this alliance has lived now?” asks the interviewer.

“We met 27 years ago, the year after Cat’s game. And we have been married for almost 24 of those” Ned says. “In a few weeks our 24th wedding anniversary would have been.”

The games had been the beginning of their time together and the games would be the end.

The interviewer sighs, but smiles.

“Don’t we all remember the news of Catelyn Tully from District 4 marrying Ned Stark from District 9?”

“I certainly remember it” Catelyn says.

It draws a laugh from both the interviewer and the audience.

Ned remembers it as clear as if it had been the previous day. She was so beautiful. She’s always beautiful, but it seems that day was special.

“We’ve never seen you in a game together before, but considering how long you’ve stuck together for I imagine you’re quite the team.”

“I suppose that’ll be our strength in the arena” Ned says.

They’ve never fought together before, but if they could manage five children between the ages of a few months and eleven years while also being mentors then they could do the hunger games. In the end it would lead to the end of at least one of them, but they could survive for a while.

“Though we’re not the only ones with close ties to other tributes” he adds.

He glances at where the victors that have already been interviewed stand. From 1 all the way up to 9, his own. There’s Cat and her uncle, as well as the Lannister twins. While they’re all friends, or at least aquatinted with each other, not all of them have family ties. He knows every face standing there. Most he watched win, he’s among the older ones. Donella, Brynden and Robert are the exceptions.

“No lovers from different districts there, this love is unique” the interviewer insists.

As sweet as it is to think of Cat as his lover it makes them sound like as young as when they met. As if he isn’t almost 50.

“I don’t think it is, I think it’s very normal.”

Apart from what they went through in their youth, apart from all the games they mentored it was normal. Years ago they agreed to make it that way so that’s what it has been. When she came to 9 with Robb they decided that they wanted him to not live with their fears, that he would have a very ordinary life. In hindsight it was easy to see that they were foolish to think that would happen, but it feels good to know they tried.

“Just like any young girl I laid my eyes on a cute boy and ended up falling in love” Cat says, and there’s something very soft in her expression then. “And now I have a husband that’s upset with me every morning because I steal all the blankets in my sleep. This despite that he throws them off himself because he’s too warm.”

It doesn’t seem to matter how many blankets they keep in the bed, they always end up with her while he gets none.

“The life of a victor isn’t as glamorous as they want you to think” he says dryly.

That earns him a laugh. He hates their laughter, it sounds strange. It sounds as fake as everything else about them.

“Of course it’s a tragedy to all of us that these years must come to an end now.”

Ned wants to say something. He knows Catelyn feels the same, her hand is squeezing his very tightly. Though they can’t do a thing, can’t say a thing. Because the consequences are not theirs to bear, it will fall on their children. Every punishment will be inflicted upon them.

“We had 27 years together. They were 27 good years” Catelyn says in a low voice. “It could have been worse.”

It isn’t true, several of those years were far from good. It has been so very dark at times that it feels like a wonder that they’re still alive. Even with the kids. Ever since the games it’s been a long tunnel. Sometimes there’s a window that lets in some sunlight, then the darkness returns.

A single tear runs down her cheek. Perfectly executed.

“I only worry for our children. Our youngest is only twelve, not nearly old enough to be on his own.”

#2023 snippets #nedcat hunger games au #i guess this is a spoiler but yeah the way i planned it they were both reaped #so now you know!

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emilykaldwen · 8 months

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Have a beefy clip from Chapter 9 of The Maiden and the Drowning Boy that I worked on today during my writing sprint today. I really do get a lot done when I sprint.

His mother stood above it all, a beacon at the high table and his fear caused his steps to dalter. She looked so young next to the ancient Lord Tully seated beside her. The green of her gown shone emerald in the light and he could make out the embroidery that made it seem like she had scales of her own. Her hair was in a low bun at the nape of her neck and the silver tiara she wore rested gently in her hair. Rubies the size of his thumb were fitted along the delicately wrought crown, each one lined with little sparkling emeralds. Fire of the Dragon. Fire of the Hightower. Of Castamere, Aegon thought, noticing the lion broach on his mother’s bodice. Rubies for house Targaryen, rubies and silver for House Reyne. The house of the grandmother Aegon had never met. Was it always the loss of a mother and a wife that turned people cruel and cold? The loss of grandmother turning his grandfather into the cruel man he was, Mother into the fearful creature with her lion claws, his own sire too caught in the memory of the woman he’d ordered to die for the promise of a son. Would losing Abrogail do the same to him?

Fuck him, he hadn’t had a proper drink in weeks and the wheel of his thoughts that he worked so desperately to avoid was threatening to derail him before he could even reach the dais and present himself to his mother’s hidden ridicule. What’s worse, was how he’d actually looked forward to it had Abrogail been on his arm than her uncle’s.

Better than being touched by that Vance prick, who had entered behind him but steered clear. Good.

A hand slipped along his right arm and Aegon startled. Helaena hummed and gave him a slight smile. Her silver hair hung freely down her back with a braid wrapped around her head like a crown and woven with a strand of rubies and chips of dark dragonglass. She wore no veil, her dress the same twilight blue as Abrogail’s, although low cut across her shoulders and dipped across her chest. Black embroidery crept along her bodice in the shapes of dragon flame. A simple gold and sapphire necklace hung about her throat, and her lavender eyes were curious and searching his face.

“Do you think I look pretty as well?” she teased him softly and Aegon rolled his eyes.

“You look nice,” he said softly, their heads leaning towards each other while they walked towards the dias. “Mother will have a fit. Who have you dressed up for?” He might have asked if she dressed for Aemond, but after the display in the garden the prior day, Aegon thought that would not be the wisest question to ask. They may not have discussed it, but it hadn’t escaped Aegon’s notice that while Aemond was the one who discussed future marriage with Helaena, how their love was so insufferably true, Helaena’s feelings on the matter were noticeably absent. Little more than agreeable hums and nods and changes of the subject.

“For myself. Some people think their breasts are worth showing off and need to learn their place.” Arching an eyebrow, Aegon followed his sister’s gaze to where Cassandra Baratheon was speaking with some other lord, those breasts of hers drawing his gaze once more. He snorted and Helaena pushed his arm good naturedly. “I’m right, you know. What is a doe to a dragon? No need to give her delusions of grandeur more than she already has.”

“Thought about this a lot this week, have you?”

“Of course. I do not like how she speaks to little Floris so, and Abby-” Helaena paused and squeezed his arm. “You both look terribly upset again. Not that I don’t enjoy making Mother’s face look like she’s sucking on lemons again walking in with you, but what’s happened?”

#fic: the maiden and the drowning boy #I still have some asks to answer that I will get to this week #and thank you so much for the thoughtful reviews on the chapter 4 drop!#I'm not at my home computer and forgot to make a helaena banner for this week #so that promo will drop either sunday or monday #anyway I'm struggling a bit with this chapter because there's some big things going on #but aaaah I'm ready!

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pricklypear1997 · 1 year

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I have a genuine question for some of the people that make ASOIAF art, why do some of you draw Arya with features that resemble mixed Stark and Tully, despite the fact that she’s literally describe as having zero physical resemblance to her mother? Like, part of the reason she’s so self conscious is because she doesn’t have red hair, not even red-brown. It’s literally brown, a dark brown according to art that GRRM approved of officially. She doesn’t have freckles, and her eyes are dark grey, like Jon, and like Lyanna. Why do people wanna draw some future Arya being taller than sansa also? Why can’t Arya just be short? Is there something wrong with being short? Is Arya just not allowed to be herself? Why does it feel like everyone is trying to change Arya from who she really is and what she actually looks like? Even the show runners completely obliterated her personality since episode 1. Like wtf? Arya is 4’0” by age 10, she has dark brown hair, sad grey eyes and grim stark face. A 4’0” 10 year old isn’t going to grow up to be 5’7”-5-9” later on. That’s just unrealistic. She’s short. It’s part of what makes her, so distinctly Arya! Part of the reason she’s so self conscious is because of her appearance and the fact that she has zero resemblance to Sansa. I want Arya to grow as a character and to learn to love herself as who she is! Short and stark as ever! I want her to accept herself as she is, and I feel like the people who try to change her, to the point that she’s not even recognizable anymore, just do not appreciate as her as a character. At most she’d probably be 5’3”. Even 5’5” is a stretch. She’s like a tiny angry kitten with messy fur lol. I think it’s adorable and idk why some of y’all wanna change that so badly 😭

“She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face, or her coloring”.

As a 5’3” woman with 2 older sisters, and one younger, and a mother who are all taller than me ranging from 5’5” to 5’7”, I love the fact that I have a character I can relate to that looks different from her mom and sister and is also the short one of the family. It’s just so nice to have that lol, so yeah it’s definitely personal, and some people might find it silly, but yeah, I get mad when people try to draw Arya in a way that doesn’t even fit her description, physically wise, and personality wise. Like people do not respect her. It makes me sad honestly. Just like in the books, where people like her sister wishing Arya was different lol. Some of you are irl Sansas and it shows lmao. Let Arya be her short skinny little tomboy self who likes picking flowers and can make friends with literally anyone who’ll show her basic decency.

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chillyravenart · 5 years

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SER EDMURE TULLY 💙🐟

I'm not saying I stan a ginger bearded man, but I definitely stan a ginger bearded man.

#i don't just draw silver haired baes #redheads count too #edmure tully #i love my redheaded idiot❤#he's so soft and precious #soft hearted and soft headed lmao #asoiaf fanart #asoiaf #house tully #family duty honor #put some respeck on his name

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lunwil · 6 years

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sometimes I think about burgundian sansa stark - actually I think a lot about burgundian sansa stark

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mariesdeluluworld · 3 years

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𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙍𝙤𝙨𝙚

Prologue:

Tywin Lannister hated his dwarf son. Despised him. Every time his calculating green eyes landed on his twisted half-man son, it reminded him of what he lost. His precious wife, gone, to give life to the creature before him. He took her life, and here he is, breathing, instead of cold and lifeless. The gods had cursed him from the moment Joanna found out she was with child again. The moment seed had given her a child. After the birth of the twins, Master Creylen advised Tywin and Joanna not to have another child. Which was fine, because he got what he wanted. An heir, and a daughter to marry off to Aerys’s son, Rheagar. A Lannister, his daughter, would sit on the throne as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. He had everything he wanted, his perfect children, his loving wife, his long-time friend, and King, and the Relm was prospering. Until it wasn’t.

He lost everything in a day and was left with a creature he wasn’t sure that came from his loins. A hideous son, whom no one wanted to marry, who was Lord Tywin’s bane. His second son, Tyrion Lannister.

The old lion narrowed his gaze at his son, who was speaking in hushed tones with his younger brother, Gerion Lannister, ignoring his sister’s continuous babble. Tywin watched as Tyrion laughed and made jests with Gerion, smiling as if he’d done nothing wrong. His half-man son waddled along, enjoying his time with his uncle as they walked through Joanna’s garden. Tywin’s fists clenched together, his forehead crinkled as his brows furrowed together as he watched with displeasure. Sixteen years it’s been. Sixteen years since Tywin Lannister ever cracked a smile.

“Tywin? Brother?” A hand rested on his leather-clad shoulder, drawing his attention away from his son and brother. Genna stood next to him, her golden hair piled in an intricate design with pearls dangling in locks. Her face was all made up with various powders and a lip stain. Her dress was Lannister red, and around her neck sat a golden lion head nestled between her breasts. Genna reminded Tywin of their mother, Jeyne. She shared their mother’s shade of green eyes and mother’s shapely figure. She was beautiful and cunning. She was a Lannister. Yet she was married to a pathetic Frey.

“Tywin, did you hear me?” she asked, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. Tywin simply stared at her, wondering what he’d missed. “Of course you didn’t,” she chuckled before sighing. “I said, dear brother, I think we should hold a ball.” A smile spread across her face. While the Old Lion simply raised a brow at her statement. “A ball,” he repeated. Genna nodded her head. “Why would we need to throw a ball?” His voice rumbled in his chest, and if Genna wasn’t his sister, he would’ve growled.

“For Tyrion, of course. He’s sixteen. It’s time to find him a suitable wife and future Lady of Casterly Rock.” Tywin narrowed his eyes, irritatedly. “Do you not think I’ve tried to find him a wife? Lord Tully denied my proposal, as did Lord Royce and Lord Hightower, and I just received Ser Colin Florent’s raven.” Tywin picked up the letter lying on his desk. “‘I regret to inform you my Lord Lannister, my daughter Delena has been promised to marry Ser Hosman Norcross,’ Even the oaf Florent won’t marry his whore of a daughter to Tyrion.” He threw the letter onto the desk and sat down, leaning forward and lacing his hands together as he raises a brow at Genna. “So, you still believe someone will marry him?” Genna sighed and shook her head at her older brother. “Tyrion is capable of finding a wife. We simply need to introduce him to eligible ladies.”

“So we’ll prance him around as if he was my daughter? Shall I have a tailor make him a gown as well?” Sarcasm dripped in his voice, and Genna glared at her brother. “Tyrion is your son —”

“No, he is not!!” Tywin slammed his fist down against the desk. He glared at Genna, fury swimming in his green eyes, his lip curling in a snarl. Genna glared back at him, challenging his stare. This was the same argument they’ve had over the last thirteen years, and every time Tywin’s fury matched a starving lion. His fangs were out, snarling, and his claws were ready to tear through her body. The first time they argued about Tyrion, Tywin stopped talking to Genna for an entire year. It was a miserable year for Genna. Losing her brother temporary was the worst feeling in the world.

“Tywin.” she reached her hand over the desk to place it on his fist, but he jerked away. “Don’t you wish to make an alliance to benefit House Lannister?” He stood up and stomped off to Joanna’s portrait. He stood in front of the painted version of his wife, staring at her beautiful green eyes and rich golden hair that shone in the sun. “Jamie is sworn to the damned Kingsguard. Cersei is Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Who else can make a proper marriage alliance for House Lannister?” Tywin shook his head and clenched his fists at his side. “Tyrion is the only answer. He is the only one who can help our House.”

Genna’s voice became soft somewhere in the middle of her persuasion, and she knew she had her big brothers when Tywin let out a sound of frustration before turning and running a hand down his face.

“So be it.” The smile that left Genna could only resemble a lioness who was ready to kill her next meal.

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une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir · 3 years

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random thoughts on jon connington’s chapters

The last time I read this was over four years and I had a different take on Aegon, so I was curious to see on what changed with a second read.

----

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

Sansa and Aegon

Alayne II (Sansa II) ~ AFFC

When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . . and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back . . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright."

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

"We have gone to great lengths to keep Prince Aegon hidden all these years," Lemore reminded him. "The time will come for him to wash his hair and declare himself, I know, but that time is not now. Not to a camp of sellswords." (...)

"The plan was to reveal Prince Aegon only when we reached Queen Daenerys," Lemore was saying." (...)

The prince wore sword and dagger, black boots polished to a high sheen, a black cloak lined with blood-red silk. With his hair washed and cut and freshly dyed a deep, dark blue, his eyes looked blue as well. At his throat he wore three huge square-cut rubies on a chain of black iron, a gift from Magister Illyrio. Red and black. Dragon colors. That was good. "You look a proper prince," he told the boy. (...)

Sansa and Aegon are supposed to reveal themselves by washing the dye out of their hair and wearing their house colours, in an event that involves a wedding with someone that will facilitate claiming their birthright.

However, Aegon said “fuck that bitch Danerys” and getting married, revealed himself somewhat (to the Golden Company higher-ups only) wearing his house colours and went back to Westeros to reclaim his birthright on his own, unware that his cousin from his mother’s side is coming to him to offer aid in the war.. Aegon washing his hair of the blue dye and doning his armour will only happen wieh he sets foot in Westeros.

Likewise, we can draw a parallel scenario for Sansa and considering the “Sansa is grey girl who flees from a marriage” it all fits, Like Aegon, Sansa syas “fuck that bitch blonde Bobby B Harry and getting married, like Aegon she wears a grey cloak, and like Aegon she’ll be meeting her cousin and eventually claim her birthright.

I somehow doubt Sansa will be getting an army that soon, but in the show she got the Wildlings (via Jon, who can be seen as “sellsword” type of warriors) and the Vale army. In the books, there’s the mountain clans both in the Vale (loyal to Tyrion, whom she’s married to) and the north mountain clans (those that protected Bran because he is Ned’s son and joined Stannis also because of Ned and his daughter).

Another thing of note is Aegon ended up cutting his hair but dyed blue once more, so this may be true for Sansa as well. She may cut it shorter (a parallel to her sister Arya as well) but keep dying it for awhile still. Such, she may reach the Wall and meet Jon as a brunette (a parallel to Jeyne Poole as well as Alys Karstark). ETA: Likewise Aegon only revealing himself by washing his hair and doning his armour when he invades Westeros (his birthright), Sansa may only wash her hair and done her armour when the northern campaign starts.

Regardless, This is a smart choice because...

Cersei IV ~ ADWD

The queen bristled. "I most certainly have not forgotten that little she-wolf." She refused to say the girl's name. "I ought to have shown her to the black cells as the daughter of a traitor, but instead I made her part of mine own household. She shared my hearth and hall, played with my own children. I fed her, dressed her, tried to make her a little less ignorant about the world, and how did she repay me for my kindness? She helped murder my son. When we find the Imp, we will find the Lady Sansa too. She is not dead . . . but before I am done with her, I promise you, she will be singing to the Stranger, begging for his kiss."

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

"His because they're bought and paid for. Ten thousand armed strangers, plus hangers-on and camp followers. All it takes is one to bring us all to ruin. If Hugor's head was worth a lord's honors, how much will Cersei Lannister pay for the rightful heir to the Iron Throne? You do not know these men, my lord. It has been a dozen years since you last rode with the Golden Company, and your old friend is dead."

Cersei’s attention on Aegon is also a parallel to Cersei’s attention to Sansa, interestingly enough Tyrion is mentioned in both instances. Cersei’s attention on Sansa also come attached with the “singing the Stranger for a kiss”, which is interesting because if “Sansa is the Grey Girl” theory holds to, the guy she’s running to for protection is in fact.... dead or close to (the Stranger is their god and in the show... the episode was aplty named, the Book of the Stranger).

The bells tolled for all of us that day. For Aerys and his queen, for Elia of Dorne and her little daughter, for every true man and honest woman in the Seven Kingdoms. And for my silver prince. (...)

He had grown fond of Lemore, but that did not mean he required her approval. Her task had been to instruct the prince in the doctrines of the Faith, and she had done that. No amount of prayer would put him on the Iron Throne, however. That was Griff's task. He had failed Prince Rhaegar once. He would not fail his son.

Let me live long enough to see the boy sit the Iron Throne, and Varys will pay for that slight and so much more. Then we'll see who's soon forgotten.

I grant that the obsession that Jon Connington has for Rhaegar Targaryen is milder and more honourable, compared to the obsession Littlefinger has for Catelyn Tully, but the fact is this is yet another parallel between Sansa and Aegon. They both have mentors with an unhealthy obsession with one of their parents and hate the other, which they project onto the kids. Last, but not least, both mentors are passing off as parents of the children while they remain disguised under a false indentiy.

However, as Sansa will have to run from Littlefinger’s toxic shadow, I suspect Aegon will do much the same. I have suspicions. Sansa escaped Littlefinger because of Jon, as he took the role of protection. No matter how people see the ship, the fact is Jon is a lot like Ned V2 (at least, that’s how Littlefinger will see it and he hated the man) but the truth is Jon is Ned’s nephew and Sansa’s cousin from his mother’s side.

Likewise, Aegon is about to meet Arianne Martell, who’s the niece of his mother Elia Martell, which makes them cousins from his mother’s side. Elia Martell, whom Jon Connington... hates, often speculated in fact that he was in love with Rhaegar Targaryen himself. The symmetry of all this, not only the mentor’s obsession with the children but also the love / hate hey have for their parents.

Connington’s wish to see Aegon crowned and the giant chip he has on his shoulder for not being recognised. For the former, I have not found any reference to Littlefinger wanting to sit the Iron Throne in the books, but this was basically his goal in the show. To be king with Sansa by his side. For the latter, well that’s the drive of his character, he’s a social climber seeking recognition.

Sansa VII ~ ASOS

I will tell my aunt that I don't want to marry Robert. Not even the High Septon himself could declare a woman married if she refused to say the vows. She wasn't a beggar, no matter what her aunt said. She was thirteen, a woman flowered and wed, the heir to Winterfell.

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

"Why should I go running to my aunt [implied marriage] as if I were a beggar? My claim is better than her own. Let her come to me … in Westeros."

Eh. Same energy. They are not beggars and they know their birthright, they will not be forced to marry someone they don’t want to to facilitate it.

----

TL;DR: I think these concurrence between Sansa and Aegon suggest that Aegon is real, but also glimpse into their characters beyond their toxic mentors and their ascencion to power. It will be interesting to watch their common points in future events, even if by the fact that they’re different genders and that makes PLENTY of difference in ASOIAF.

Jon and Aegon

Jon II ~ ASOS

A few tents were still standing on the far side of the camp, and it was there they found Mance Rayder. Beneath his slashed cloak of black wool and red silk he wore black ringmail and shaggy fur breeches, and on his head was a great bronze-and-iron helm with raven wings at either temple. Jarl was with him, and Harma the Dogshead; Styr as well, and Varamyr Sixskins with his wolves and his shadowcat.

The Lost Lord ~ ADWD

I personally ignored Aegon because I started with the show and didn’t know he was a (living) character until I read the books. I wasn’t even all that convinced he’d be particularly important. So I always looked at Jon’s interactions with Mance (associated with black + red) as "preparation” for Jon’s internactions with Daniella.

Hoewver, that changed when show!Cersei took over some of book!Aegon role: sitting on the Iron Throne, the Golden Company, and loved over Daniella in the last to final episode. It seems to me now that Mance can also (at the very least if not all) be seen as “preparation” for Jon’s interactions Aegon. As said, Mance dresss in a black and red cloak which associates him with Targs, the cloak being “copied” by Aegon. Mance united the notorious “give no fucks about authority) wildlings under one idea (run from the Others), while Aegon united a sellsword compay (sellswords are untrustworthty).

Moreover, it’s my conviction that Jon and Aegon are probably going to war against each other for a time (this is illustrated by what I believe are their respective dragons and a natural consequence if Aegon sits in King’s Landing while the Starks declare Northern Indepdencen), until they sommehow make peace (in case of Mance and Jon it was because of the Others, but for Jon and Aegon it could be their fire counterart, Danerys).

TL;DR: I think these vague connections between Mance and Aegon are rather interesting and may be “preparation” for Jon and Aegon’s intereactons will involve war AND peace. Interestingly, Connington’s next chapter feaures battle.

#aegon vi targaryen

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jackoshadows · 2 years

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exactly 🤨 i never understood why they color jon and arya with dark skin in comparation of their siblings... specially sansa

Never understood it either.

It seemed like a way for artists to differentiate between the Stark looking Starks and Tully looking Starks and yet the author himself has given descriptions that can be used to do this. Even for black and white art. The Stark looking Starks have long faces while the Tully looking Starks have rounder faces. Black/Brown hair vs auburn/lighter hair and dark grey eyes vs blue eyes.

Again, as someone who is dark skinned, I would love for Jon Snow to be a poc. However, given this fandom's insistence that the Stark looking Starks are plain and not as good looking compared to the beautiful, Tully looking Starks based on what characters like Catelyn, Sansa or other non-Northern characters say in the text, the majority of the fanart distinguishing them using darker shades has certain implications.

Either draw ALL the Starks as poc. Or draw ALL of them as white. Don't use skin color to differentiate the characters who are supposedly less good looking when in canon they are all white.

#asks #fanart #Fandom stuff

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sayruq · 3 years

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what do you think of the parallels people try do draw between the brandon/catelyn/littlefinger duel situation and the james/lily/snape mudblood thing? littlefinger wasnt a weirdo creep by that point. brandon doesnt seem that great in general, though that was probably one of his finer moments

there no parallels that aren’t very superficial. i mean even snape’s friendship with lily is little like littlefinger’s relationship with catelyn. lily didn’t have that much power over snape though it was obvious they were from different economic classes. catelyn was for a time the heir to a lord paramount, the equivalent of a duke and littlefinger was the son of petty lord whose lands were poor. littlefinger was catelyn’s foster brother, snape was lily’s best friend and they were born in the same month but catelyn was years older than littlefinger. according to jkr, snape had a chance with lily (sigh) but there’s no way littlefinger could ever marry either of the tully girls.

not only that, brandon met littlefinger for the first time (if i remember correctly) before their duel. littlefinger challenged him for catelyn’s hand and littlefinger was thoroughly outmatched almost to the point of death. then hoster sent him away.

james potter decided to bully snape on the train when they met as children. he continued to do this for 7 years. snape fought back, not to get a chance to date lily, but to protect himself. there’s no way james could outmatch snape which is why he attacked him with 3 other boys, often sneaking up on snape. on a fair fight, let’s be honest snape wins. lily ended her friendship with snape due to ideological differences to put it lightly, no one made that choice for her.

afterwards, snape moved on. there’s nothing in canon or even pottermore that suggested continued harassment. he was focused on his future because he was born in abject poverty. his number one goal is to become wealthier and more powerful.

littlefinger is fueled by the classism he dealt with and by that duel. he thinks he lost catelyn because he didn’t know how to fight and that if she had a choice she would marry him, not brandon or ned. this bitterness caused him to commit atrocities. snape has issues but even he had his limits. bellatrix called him a coward for always finding excuses not to fight with death eaters in the first war. he never killed anyone according to his conversation with dumbledore (”what about my soul?”). he switched sides for lily and he spied on voldemort (as a 20 yr old) to keep her safe. even after she died, he continued being a spy so he can avenge her death. does that sound like littlefinger?

even the ‘mudblood’ situation is different from the duel. i mean brandon did not attack littlefinger when he was last expecting it. brandon had no reason to hate him, i doubt he even noticed him. you read snape’s worst memory and you’ll someone being assaulted (while he was distracted by a question paper for an exam that could determine his future) and people watched and laughed. james and sirius choked snape on soap, hang him upside down, exposed snape’s underwear all while casually and coldly bantering with one another as though this was a regular occurrence and it was. james even threatened lily (”don’t make me hex you, evans,”) and he was doing it all to get her attention.

brandon was challenged. in his culture, he has to accept it. littlefinger refused to allow anyone to talk him out of it. he had more agency. while snape shouting a slur was wrong, that was not done in a fight for lily’s love, it happened during a vicious attack that ended with james threatening to expose snape’s genitals which is sexual assault.

superficially, there’s a spoilt, rich heir with black hair, a redhead who loves him, and a poor kid who loves her in both series but the truth is, we’re dealing with different characters.

#severus snape #pro snape #anti petyr baelish #long post #Anonymous

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ladycatofwinterfell · 3 years

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Raindrops, snowflakes, sunshine, part 4

Summary: Catelyn meets a northern boy in her algebra class during one of London’s many rainy days. Initially she doesn’t expect much, but this boy brings her a surprising amount of sunlight.

@leialannister and I discussed Scandinavian Starks and I realized I really wanted to write a fic so that’s what I did. Swedes depicted in media makes this Swede happy, and NedCat also makes me happy so why not combine it and publish him for everyone to see?

A sigh escaped her when she finally put the cookies in the oven. That had taken a lot longer than she had expected it to. She glanced at the clock, maybe she would have to message Ned and tell him that she would be a bit late.

“What are you baking?”

Elia came into the kitchen and opened a cupboard to take out a glass.

“Chocolate chip cookies with peanut butter” Catelyn replied.

“Any chance I can get one when they’re finished?”

“Absolutely. I made too many anyway.”

Either she was baking for a country or for one small child, she could never make anything in the right amount. That day she had apparently decided to bake for all of London. But that was good, then she could leave some at home and bring some to Ned. Taking up her phone she quickly wrote him a message about that she would be a bit late. She had planned on starting to bake earlier, but then there had been some obstacles. The obstacles were that she had promised Cersei to paint her nails and do her hair for her date. Which she didn’t regret, Cersei had looked awesome when she was done.

“Can you make too many cookies?” Elia asked.

She opened the fridge and took out a carton of orange juice.

“I can only bring so many to Ned without looking like a crazy person.”

“Who’s Ned?”

Had she never told Elia his actual name? She guessed not. He was known as the Swede in their household, Ashara and Cersei exclusively called him by that name.

“The Swede.”

“Ah, I guess your date went well, then” Elia said, smiling.

“It wasn’t a date, we’re not dating.”

“Whatever you say. Ash told me you wouldn’t talk much about it, so I figured it didn’t go well but if you’re baking for him it can’t have been too bad.”

“It wasn’t bad at all, he’s really nice. I like him.”

“So why not date him?”

Catelyn sat in a chair at the kitchen table while Elia poured her juice.

“Because I’m not interested in him in that way. He’s cute, I can admit that, but no.”

Elia just shrugged and put the juice back into the fridge before leaving the kitchen again. Catelyn wasn’t baking because she was interested in him, she had just been walking around feeling guilty about that she had nothing to give in return for him teaching her to draw. So she had decided that the least she could do was bring him some homemade cookies. It didn’t feel enough, but it was something. She started gathering up all the things she had used so that she could clean them, but just after she had filled the sink with water her phone started buzzing. She cleaned her hands and walked to take her phone, expecting it to be Ned, but instead her uncle’s name was on the screen.

“Hello, Uncle” she said.

She had been calling him twice a day all week to find out what that phone call from Edmure had been about, but he hadn’t answered her. She had almost believed he had got into an accident, but her father had assured her that Uncle Brynden was just fine. He hadn’t known what it was about though, and he hadn't known why Brynden wasn't answering his phone.

“Little Cat, good to hear your voice!”

She put the phone on speaker and picked up the dish brush, beginning to scrub away remains of cookie dough.

“You could have heard my voice much earlier if you had taken my calls” she responded.

“My phone died and I lost it, but my husband found it behind a shelf earlier today so now I could call you” Brynden said.

Catelyn had to keep herself from laughing.

“How did it end up behind a shelf?”

“Believe me, I would also like to know that.”

“Alright. Edmure said you wanted to know if I would be home for Christmas, can I ask why you wanted to know that? You know I always come home for Christmas.”

“I thought of visiting you soon if not, but now when you’re coming home for Christmas I can wait until spring.”

None of her family members had come to visit her in London, she had just gone back home. Which made sense, but she still wanted to show them her life there. She would have insisted he come before Christmas if she had not had an exam coming up. She wouldn’t have much time to spare, and if he was coming to London she actually wanted to be able to see him and do things.

“You’ll have to promise you’ll come this spring. I would love to finally get to show you how I have it here.”

“I promise. Might bring Edmure too, the boy is eager to see London.”

Edmure had never been to London. When she thought of it she didn’t think he had ever been outside of Ireland.

“You should bring Edmure. It’s about time he gets to see something different.”

“A shame it’s London and not a good city.”

She didn’t like Britain, and she hated what they had done to her country. What they had put her people through. But she had nothing against London in particular. It was a okay place to live and she had made great friends there.

“London isn’t bad, he’ll like it.”

“Of course he will, the boy has no taste.”

“He’s a child” Catelyn chuckled.

“He’ll always be like this. You're a lot like your younger self, I can still see much of little Catelyn Tully in you.”

“Well, you still call me Little Cat so I figured that.”

She stopped what she was doing when her Uncle didn’t answer her. She waited a few seconds to see if he would, but her phone was silent.

“Hello?” she called.

Then she heard Brynden’s voice. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, he clearly wasn’t talking to her. Had to be his husband, he probably had to go. She didn’t have time for a long phone call anyway, so that didn't bother her at all.

“The husband insists it’s time for dinner” he informed her. “So this is farewell for now.”

“There’s no need to talk like it’s the 18th century and you’re going on an adventure at sea, just say goodbye like a normal person.”

“Life is a lot more fun if you see it as an adventure. Therefore I’m telling you farewell for now. Until next time, Little Cat.”

A smile appeared on her face.

“Goodbye, Uncle.”

The phone clicked as Brynden ended the call. Catelyn finished the dishes in silence, listening to the music coming from the living room and Ashara and Elia’s laughter. Often she dreamed of getting her own place, but in moments like those she really liked sharing a flat. Despite that it didn’t have a balcony. She took the cookies out of the oven to let them cool before she would put some in a jar for Ned. And as expected the two other women swept in like vultures.

“Don’t touch them, you’ll burn yourselves” Catelyn warned as she turned her back on the cookies to see if she could find a jar.

She was sure if that she had at least one somewhere in the back of a cupboard. Behind all that other crap they never used. She dragged a chair over and stepped up on it to be able to reach the top shelf.

“Ouch, fuck, goddamnit!”

Catelyn didn’t have to turn around to know that Ashara was jumping around, holding her burned hand to her chest. Her first words were followed by a sentence in Arabic that Catelyn strongly suspected just consisted of more swear words. Elia was laughing and a moment later the tap was running.

“Oh my poor darling” Elia chuckled.

“Told you” Catelyn said calmly.

To her triumph she found a jar. It was ugly as sin, the psychedelic flower pattern was enough to give her a headache, but it was what she had and it was a lot better than nothing.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think they were so fucking hot!” Ashara howled.

“I just took them out of the oven, what did you expect?”

“Not this!”

She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t the first time it happened and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Every time she baked either Cersei or Ashara burned a hand. No matter how many times she warned them of the heat.

“Leave the kitchen and come back in fifteen minutes when they have cooled down a bit, I promise they’ll still be here.”

“Sounds like something someone who’s planning to take the cookies away would say.”

“Just go.”

Ashara pulled a face at her before leaving the room closely followed by her girlfriend. Finally, inner peace. Half an hour later Catelyn left with half of the cookies. She had a suspicion of that the rest would be gone by the time she was back. If Cersei came home before her they would definitely be gone. But she was happy that liked what she made them. That was all she could contribute when it came to food. She didn’t even bother swearing over that the lift was still broken. She just took the stairs. It had already been dark for two hours when she stepped outside the building. She hated it. Autumn was nice, things were very pretty during autumn, but the cold and the darkness she could do without. Catelyn had been surprised when he asked if she wanted to come over to his place. They had been talking about meeting up again, and Catelyn had assumed maybe they would go for another walk or something like it. But then Ned had said that she could come to him if she wanted to, so that he could honor his promise. She was breaking a lot of safety rules when it came to meeting new people by seeing him in a private area so soon, so she hoped he wasn’t a serial killer. She had given both Cersei and Ashara his address so if she went missing they would know where to start looking. But she was very sure of that she would be fine, he was a good person. She was still nervous when she arrived at his building though, but for a completely different reason. She didn’t know what reason, but she sure was nervous. What was up with her? Why couldn’t she just go over to her friend’s place without feeling like her heart would make it’s way out of her chest. It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. All of it was ridiculous. The building’s door required a code to be opened. She didn’t know the code, Ned hadn’t said anything about that. She took up her phone and texted him.

Code?

His answer came just a second later. It made her happy to know he had been waiting for her.

I’ll be down in a minute

Less than a minute later she saw him come down the stairs through the glass panels in the door.

“Hey” he said after having opened the door.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.”

“No need to apologize. You’re here now, aren’t you?”

They began walking up the stairs.

“The house doesn’t have a lift” Ned said. “Sucks when you have groceries.”

Catelyn couldn’t hold back a smile at that. The house had four floors, how bad could it be? She guessed it was sort of a problem if he lived on the top floor, but that was still less than what she was used to.

“What floor do you live on?”

“The third.”

“Not to belittle your struggles or anything, but I live on the sixth floor and we have a lift, but it never works. That sucks.”

“Wow, I take back everything I said.”

When they reached the third floor there were three doors. One to the left, one to the right, and one right ahead of them. He opened the right one and then gestured for her to enter before him. He held the door open for her as she walked inside and she found herself in a small hall. Only a shoe rack and a coat hanger fit in there. Past that was a small flat, consisting of only one room and door that lead to what Catelyn guessed was a bathroom. Directly to her left was a very clean kitchen, across from it, on her right was a neatly made bed. Ahead of her on the right was a couch and a TV, and across of that was a round table with five chairs around it. On almost every flat surface there was a plant, on the window sills more than one, giving life to the otherwise white and grey room. A lamp above the table was on, but apart from that the place was only dimly lit up by smaller table lamps and fairy lights. All the walls had some sort of art on them, ranging from sketches to full paintings, the only exception was where the bookshelf was. The bookshelf didn’t seem as organized as the rest of the flat, she found no pattern, and books that didn’t fit in it had been placed in piles on top of it. The scent of coffee and something sweeter filled the air. Maybe it came from one or several of the flowers, maybe it was the laundry detergent he used, maybe it was something completely different. She didn’t know, but she liked it. It wasn’t large, but it felt so much like a home. One was immediately hit with the feeling that someone had made that small area their own. She had been in homes where it was clear that the owner only used it as a place to sleep, but so was very much not the case with Ned’s home. And best of all, he had a balcony. She would have killed for a balcony.

“Welcome to my humble home” he said, closing the door behind them.

“I love it” she responded in complete honesty.

“It turned out a lot better than I initially thought, it didn’t look very nice when I moved in.”

“One has to trust the process. And that balcony can’t have made things worse.”

“It faces an alleyway, the view is terrible.”

She didn’t care what the view was, it was the balcony itself that made her happy. Though of course she wanted her future balcony to have a nice view if it wasn’t too much to ask for. She put her bag down, and took off her shoes and her coat. She liked the shoe rack, she would have to raise the question of getting one for her own home with Cersei and Ashara.

“We don’t have to draw if you don’t want to, but I thought I would at least present the option" he said when he went inside before her.

She noticed that there was a bunch of papers and pens on the table. She also noticed that Oden was sleeping underneath it. She hadn’t seen him at first, but she smiled when she did. She didn’t think she had ever smiled at a dog.

“I’m eager to learn every little thing you have to teach me.”

“Amazing, where would you like to start?”

A class where she got to make her own curriculum, how nice.

“You said you’re good at drawing people, right? Can you teach me to draw a face?”

He sat by the table and pulled out the chair on his right.

“That shouldn’t be impossible.”

Catelyn sat next to him and they began. She believed he had said that he wasn’t a very good teacher or something close to that the previous time they had met, but she heavily disagreed. With patience he guided her through everything, redid stuff half a hundred times just so she could see it and understand. After a while the table was covered in drawings of facial features and faces from different angles. It was easy to tell which ones were his and which were hers, but she wanted to believe she was improving. And Ned said she was, he came with much encouragement. But she came to a point where it didn’t feel like it. She had trouble getting lines straight, it looked very shaky.

“I can’t get it straight” she sighed in frustration when she tried for what had to be the tenth time to get a nose right.

Ned studied her drawing and her hand for a moment before answering.

“You need to relax your hand, you’re too tense. It makes you shake.”

“I am relaxing my hand!”

He put his pen down and scooted his chair closer to her. At first she didn’t understand what he was doing but then he put his left hand over hers, gently helping her adjust her hold in order to relax her hand. Maybe she should have been focused on trying to get it right, but she was mostly focused on keeping her breathing steady. He was close to her. He was very close to her. She could smell his cologne. And he was essentially holding her hand. She kept her eyes downwards, tried to do what he wanted her to do, but she was positive her heart was going to stop.

“There you go” he said. “Try now.”

“Okay” she said, hearing that her voice was a higher pitch than usual.

She hoped he didn’t notice. She tried to keep her hand steady despite that she was shaking a lot more than she had been before.

“It looks better now, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Both of them jumped in their chairs when the door opened. In stepped a man who somewhat resembled Ned, they had the same hair color and the same facial features, but he was taller. And very attractive. Catelyn had to stop herself from looking at him too much and instead turned her gaze to the dog he had with him, another German shepherd, who seemingly didn’t have Oden’s calm temper. He pulled on his leash, wanting to come over to where they sat. She hoped he would stay right where he was with that dog, she had a feeling of that she wouldn’t like it as much as she liked Oden. Oden immediately left his spot at their feet and walked to lie down in a corner of the room, clearly wanting nothing to do with the other dog. Catelyn realized that she had instinctively tensed up, so she took a deep breath and forced her shoulders down. It was just a dog. Except for that it wasn’t. It was a scary dog, and she could feel her pulse go up.

“Vad gör du här?” Ned sighed, scooting his chair away from her again.

It made a loud, scraping noise. Not like when he had came closer to her.

”Jag skrev att jag tänkte komma förbi, men du svarade inte” the man said with a shrug.

Catelyn wasn’t sure of what she was going to do, and as usual she didn’t understand a word of Swedish. She assumed he was Ned’s older brother, as they looked alike and both spoke Swedish.

“Det fanns en anledning till det” Ned said, annoyed by whatever it was that his brother had said.

But the brother didn’t seem to hear him, he instead looked at Catelyn and smiled.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you again” he said.

She had never seen him before, what was he talking about?

“You must be mistaking me for someone else, we haven’t met” she said. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed.

“I’m not mistaking you for someone else, you don’t forget hair like that. You have nice hair.”

She tried to remember when and where she could have seen him. They didn’t have class together, she would have known if she was in the same class as Ned’s brother. Had she met him at a pub? She never got drunk enough to not remember people she had met. Was he a friend of a friend? That seemed like the most plausible explanation. She would have to ask around about that.

“Thank you, I suppose, but I have to apologize, I don’t remember you.”

It was embarrassing. She didn’t believe that had ever happened to her before, she usually remembered people. Though at least she wasn’t blushing.

“Then I won’t be the one to remind you, let’s start over” he chuckled. “I’m Brandon, the better looking one. I never got your name last time so what’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Men för fan, Brandon, bete dig!” Ned said firmly.

“Language, little brother” Brandon said. "And I am behaving."

She assumed Ned had told him to behave with a swearword thrown in somewhere. She didn't know which word it was though.

“He has a point, you’re being a bit of an arse. So please replace sweetheart with Catelyn next time, that’s my name.”

“That’s prettier than sweetheart anyway.”

He didn’t seem to be that sharpest knife in the drawer, it sounded like something out of a book on how to compliment women. But he was good looking, and maybe he was better after one got to know him.

“Thank you” she said once more, twirling her pen between her fingers.

“Vill du ha henne eller kan jag ta henne?” Brandon then said to Ned. “Hon är snygg.”

”Vad är det för fel på dig?” he responded in an exasperated voice. “If you didn’t want something important can you please take your dog and leave?”

“Du behöver inte bli sur” Brandon said, raising his free hand into the air.

“I’m not, but you’re being inappropriate towards my friend and Tor really upsets Oden. So can you leave and come back tomorrow?”

“Varför på engelska?”

“Because Catelyn doesn’t understand Swedish.”

“Du pratar inte med henne.”

“No, but she’s here.”

Catelyn certainly was there. She was also thoroughly confused. She had no idea about what Brandon was saying, and she had no idea about why Ned was talking about her. It almost would have been better if she didn’t understand anything at all instead of only getting bits and pieces.

“Look, I’m free tomorrow, you can come back then. Men nu skulle jag uppskatta om du lämnade oss.”

Brandon studied his brother for a moment, then he grinned.

“Absolutely. Godnatt.”

”Godnatt, Brandon.”

Brandon and his dog, who she assumed was named Tor, left and the door shut behind them. She had to do a lot of assuming as she didn't understand much. Oden stayed right where he was, his gaze fixated on the door like he was expecting Tor to break back in. She understood him.

“He’s most often not like that, I’m sorry” Ned said as he got up from his chair and walked over to sit by Oden on the floor. “I won’t excuse his behavior, but I want you to know that he can be nice.”

Oden immediately placed his head in Ned’s lap, but kept his eyes on the door.

“Mind if I sit with him for a bit?” he asked. “He gets stressed around Tor. They’re from the same litter and Tor partook in the puppy bullying that went one when they were little.”

“Puppies are so small and cute, how are they capable of bullying?” she said.

“Kids are small too, and they still bully each other.”

“I guess. Still hard to wrap your head around it. I mean I get it now, that was a scary dog, but a puppy?”

“Are you afraid of dogs?” he asked, surprised.

How could he be surprised about that? She had believed that she had clearly shown him that she was afraid of dogs.

“They have lots of sharp teeth, they make loud and sudden noises, large ones can easily kill you, it’s not really my thing. Oden is fine though, he’s very polite.”

Ned chuckled.

“More of a cat person, huh?”

Catelyn looked him dead in the eye.

“If you make one single cat pun I will get up and leave” she threatened.

“Based on the look on your face it feels like you have heard them all already.”

“I have heard them all. Multiple times. I doubt anyone can come up with a new one at this point. They aren’t worse than the fact that an ex used ‘Kitty’ as a nickname for me through.”

She had learned to accept KitKat, she would never learn to accept Kitty. She hated it, she was a grown woman and didn’t want to be referred to the same way one referred to a cute kitten. Luckily no one else had used that nickname and she thoroughly hoped it would stay that way.

“I take it you prefer just Catelyn, then?”

“Or Cat. I don’t mind Cat, it’s short and easy to spell.”

People never seemed to spell her name correctly on the first try. There were simply too many ways to spell the way her name was said. People often replaced the C with a K and threw in a couple of i’s for good measure. So sometimes it was easier to just go by Cat.

“I get it, often it’s easier to go by a shortened name.”

She snorted.

“Your name is three letters and super easy to spell, you don’t get to complain.”

Ned laughed at that.

“I always go by Ned, but it’s not actually my name. My name’s Eddard.”

So she had been right, Ned was short for something.

“It’s a nice name.”

“You said that about my dog too, so I don’t know what to believe.”

Had she? She had no memory of what she had said upon learning Oden’s name. It had been weeks since that. But he was probably right.

“You both have nice names, that’s all there is.”

“Thank you.”

She left her pen on the table and stood up.

“Do you want cookies?”

He shrugged.

“Cookies are good, but I unfortunately don’t have any. I would have got some if you had said you wanted it.”

“No worries, Eddard Stark” she said as she went to get her bag from the coat hanger. “I can supply the cookies.”

She pulled out the jar and went back to the table.

“Did you bake?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

He got up from the floor.

“I hope you don’t have any severe allergies because I really don’t want to kill you, and I also hope you like chocolate chip cookies with peanut butter because that’s what I baked.”

“Sounds amazing. Can I make you some tea to go with the cookies?”

“Absolutely.”

Catelyn sat at the table again while Ned walked to the small kitchen.

“You know you didn’t have to bake” he said as he took two mugs out of a cupboard.

“I wanted to give something back to you for inviting me into your home and trying to teach me to draw. And I’m good at baking, so I thought I would bake you something” she explained.

She picked up her pen again, once more put it to the paper and tried to get the shading on the nose right so that it didn’t look so flat. Very softly she moved the tip of the pen, and found that she managed to keep her hand steady while doing so. Maybe he had managed to get something into her head, after all.

“I really appreciate it, thank you” he said and she heard him fill a kettle with water.

“It was the least I could do.”

She stopped for a moment to look at the paper in front of her. That actually looked like a nose. It wasn’t nearly as good as what he had done, but it was the best nose she had ever managed to draw. Maybe her pride was childish, it wasn’t a big accomplishment, but she really hadn’t expected to do so well. She could feel herself smile.

“What kind of tea do you want?”

“Uhm, preferably something fruity, if you have it. I like sweet teas.”

High on the feeling of success she moved onto the eyes of the person on her paper.

“Fruity? That’s not very British of you” he responded.

“I know, it’s a conscious choice. Drives one of my flatmates mad.”

Cersei refused to drink sweet teas. She only drank black tea and Earl Grey. Nothing disgusted Catelyn more than Earl Grey. She was also sure of that Cersei only refused to drink other teas out of spite. She was a very proud Brit when it came to tea.

“Is she British?”

“Yes, a born and bred Londoner. My other flatmate is from Morocco, so the British are outnumbered in my home. She’s very strict on the tea though. We’re working on humbling her, but our attempts so far have been unsuccessful.”

“It’s very hard to humble a Brit, I’ve tried.”

“Do you have any advice for me?”

“No, because I failed in epic proportions. He’s still the same.”

She looked up at him. He stood with his back to her, pouring the hot water into the mugs. She wondered who he was talking about. She would have liked to ask, but it didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it. Whoever it was was probably a lot like Cersei. She loved Cersei, but she sure was a handful at times. Especially when it came to her Earl Grey.

“We have a word for this in Swedish” Ned said.

“You have a word for trying to humble Brits?”

That was unreasonable and way too specific. He laughed.

“That would be ‘försöka göra en brittisk person ödmjukare’, which is a sentence and not a word, but that’s not what I meant. I meant we have a word for sitting down with someone to eat a pastry or something like it and maybe drink something.”

That mad a lot more sense.

“And what’s this word?”

“Fika. Most people do it daily. We have breaks at work for fika.”

"Is that a verb or a noun?"

"Works as both. You can fika, but you can also sit down for a fika."

“That’s brilliant, there should be an English word for that.”

“One of many things I miss from Sweden.”

She turned her gaze downwards again, but found that she didn’t have the same luck with the eyes that she had had with the nose. She tried to do what he had showed her, and she looked at everything he had drawn out for her on a different paper, but she just couldn’t get it to work.

“You’re doing very well.”

Turning her head up she found him standing right behind her, leaning forward slightly to see better. And for some reason she could once more feel her heart racing in her chest. And that time he wasn’t even touching her. What was wrong with her?

“Thank you” she said.

That time she managed to keep her voice normal, so that was always something. Ned put her mug down and sat next to her again. Catelyn opened the jar and offered him a cookie before taking one herself.

“I hope you like them.”

She raised her cookie in a cheers before taking a bite. She couldn’t know what he thought, but she was more than happy with the result. Those were some tasty cookies, if she could say so herself. And based on his reaction he seemed to like them as well.

“These are really good” he said. “Like, really, really good. Screw drawing, can you teach me to do this?”

Catelyn tried to keep herself from smiling as she had her mouth full, but found that she was unable to do so and raised a hand to hide her mouth.

“This isn’t even my best, you should taste my carrot cake. I make a killer carrot cake.”

“I love carrot cake.”

“Me too.”

He paused for a moment before smiling.

“Do you want to hear a word that’s even more brilliant, but that doesn’t exist in English?”

“Definitely, share your Swedish wisdom with me.”

“Lagom. It means just the right amount of something. Not too much and not too little. It doesn’t matter what it is, anything can be lagom.”

Her phone started buzzing and she threw a glance at it. She planned on not answering, whoever it was that demanded her attention could wait, but when she picked it up to put it on silence and saw that it was Cersei she quickly changed her mind. Cersei was out with some guy Catelyn didn’t know, and maybe something had happened or she needed an out. Helping her friend was way more important than not having a small interruption.

“I’m sorry this keeps happening, but my friend’s out and I really don’t want something to happen to her” Catelyn said before taking the phone.

“You don’t need to apologize, make sure your friend is okay.”

“Hey, is everything alright?” Catelyn said after having accepted the call.

“Yeah, it’s alright, thanks for asking. And you, are you alright?”

There was nothing in Cersei’s voice that suggested otherwise and Catelyn was instantly relieved. She was okay.

“I’m good.”

“Great, I was just wondering if you and the Swede would like to come to a Christmas party?”

“What?”

“Yeah, Robert hosts these large Christmas parties every year and he’s in the bathroom at the moment so I thought I’d call you and see if you wanted to come.”

So that was the name of her boyfriend. Robert. Catelyn would have to remember that. And if she went to the Christmas party she would get to meet him too. From nothing to both a name and an opportunity to meet him in person in a matter of just a few seconds, how nice.

“Can we talk more about it when we’re both home?” she said.

There was no need to talk about it right then, both of them had other things to do. And it wasn’t like the party would be anytime soon, there was still awhile until December, they had time to talk about it later.

“Of course, I just didn’t want to forget, you know how I am. But check with the Swede, will you?”

“I’ll check with him” Catelyn promised.

“Good, I’ll se you at home.”

“See you at home.”

Ned was quite obviously pretending not to be curious, but she saw right through it. She had noticed he wasn't very good at pretending.

“My friend’s boyfriend is having a Christmas party and she wondered if we would like to go.”

He didn’t try to hide his surprise though.

“We? As in me, too?”

“She asked for you specifically, so yeah.”

She didn’t know if it was because she wanted to meet Ned or because she didn’t want to make Catelyn feel lonely. Catelyn didn’t feel lonely. She was fine on her own and it didn’t bother her that her flat mates were in relationships.

“Unless I have something else I guess I can go.”

Catelyn smiled. Before starting to speak she realized how much she had been smiling since arriving there. He made her smile a lot, he made her feel good. She liked that about him. She liked him.

“Yay! It’ll be much more fun with you there.”

“I’m not the biggest fan of parties, and I won’t know anyone. But I can try for you.”

Oh God, he was sweet. Really really sweet. Boyfriend material. Husband material. Perhaps even father material. Catelyn wished she had been interested in him. He could try for her.

“I’m not sure I’ll know anyone either. I’ve never even met her boyfriend, and I learned his name just now. So we’ll be in it together.”

“What is his name?”

It made her think of Cersei demanding names every time Catelyn met a new person and teasing her over it. But Ned didn’t know about that, he just asked a polite question.

“Robert.”

A frown appeared on his face and that, and he turned his eyes downwards for a moment.

“Robert? Robert Baratheon?” he asked.

“I don’t know, why?”

“I used to know a Robert who hosted yearly Christmas parties, that’s all. But most likely it’s just a funny coincidence. Many people have Christmas parties, there has to be more than one Robert.”

“London is a large city and Robert is not an uncommon name, the probability of it being the same person is very small.”

She would have been able to figure out the exact probability for it being the same person if she had got a bit of time. But that was unnecessary, it wasn’t hard to understand that it was low.

“You’re the one who knows math, I’ll have to trust you.”

“It doesn’t take much math to figure that out.”

“I’ll just have to trust you in general then.”

She felt like her math skills were more trustworthy than her general knowledge on stuff, but that was unnecessary information to share.

“I hope you’re not going to regret it” she said instead.

“How nice of you.”

Ned sipped his tea and finished his cookie. Then he picked up his pen again, but instead of continuing on the drawing he had started while she did hers he took a blank paper. With an incredible speed he began moving the pen over the paper, and it left Catelyn somewhat confused as it didn't look like anything he had shown her.

“What are you drawing?” she asked curiously, stretching to see better.

He glanced up at her, his gaze focused in a way that made it seem like he was studying her. It didn’t make her wonder what he was doing any less.

“Could you be still, please?” he asked gently. “Or, well, you can move, but it would be good if you remained in the same position for a bit so that I can do a quick sketch.”

Catelyn hadn’t even reflected over how she was sitting until he said it. She had pulled her legs up and was sitting cross legged on the chair, as she always sat at home. In one hand she held her half eaten cookie, and the other was fiddling with her pen. When had she picked the pen up? None of that mattered even a little though. Because he was drawing her. And she was immensely flattered, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around why.

“Why are you drawing me?”

“I just liked the setting, and thought it would make for a good drawing” he responded casually. “Och du är vacker.”

She couldn’t be entirely sure, but she believed she had heard that last word before. And the more she thought of it, the more she grew sure of that he had said it to her before.

“You’ve said this to me before, right?”

He paused for a moment, as if he hadn’t believed she would notice that. But she had noticed. And she wanted to know what the hell it was that he was saying to her.

“Might be that I have.”

“What does it mean?” she asked, putting on her most charming smile in order to convince him to tell her.

“Nothing.”

“Then there’s no reason you can’t tell me. Come on, I thought we liked each other enough for you to translate for me.”

She couldn’t tell if he was blushing or not because of his beard, but something gave her the feeling that he was. She didn’t know exactly what that word meant, but she had somewhat of an idea about what it could be.

“If you’re flirting with me it’s okay to do so in a language we both understand.”

Not even a second after the words had left her mouth she regretted having ever been born. She shoved what remained of her cookie into her mouth before taking her mug and raising it to her lips, drinking the tea despite that it was still too hot for taking more than a little sip. She would rather burn her tongue than look at him after whatever the hell that had been. He was quiet and she wondered what was going through his mind. Did he think she was stupid? Or did he think she was flirting? Was she flirting? No, that hadn’t been flirting. She wasn’t even interested in him, he was just her friend. She liked him as a friend. And still she had heavily implied that he was flirting with her. She didn’t even know if that was what he had said. She knew no Swedish at all. Fuck.

“It means you’re beautiful” he finally said. “‘Vacker’ means ‘beautiful’.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“You probably think I’m a total weirdo right now, and I really don’t blame you, because this was very weird. And I want you to know that I would understand if you wouldn’t want to see me anymore” Ned said, and she had never heard him talk as fast as he did in that moment. “Not that we’re seeing each other in that sense, we’re not dating, och helvete, jag gör bara det här värre för mig själv, I’m so sorry.”

He had that miserable look on his face again. The same one he had had when they spilled coffee over themselves. But all Catelyn could do was laugh. Laugh at how he felt the exact same panic that she had felt just seconds earlier. Laugh at how they were both nervous wrecks pretending to be calm.

“Are you laughing at me?” he asked.

“No, I’m not, I just think the whole situation is funny.”

“How nice, I just feel like an idiot.”

“Believe me, so do I.”

“Once again, I’m sorry for ruining everything.”

“You didn’t, Ned” she assured him. “Nothing‘s ruined. At least I don’t think so.”

Did he think so?

“So we’re fine?” he asked.

“Yeah. We’re fine.”

He looked at her for a moment before sighing. Then he kept on drawing. And so did she. They didn’t say much more, just sat in silence except for an occasional exchange of words. And even though it had started very awkwardly Catelyn soon found that it was a quite comfortable silence. She could sit with him and be quiet.

“There” he said after a while. “It’s not my best work, the colors are a bit off, and your hands look awful, but it’s okay.”

She looked at his drawing and was left speechless, wondering what his best work was if that was just okay. Because she was looking at a drawing that was very clearly her. Sitting cross legged on a chair with half a cookie in one hand and a pen in the other, smiling. So what if the color of her hair wasn’t exactly right and her fingers looked a bit weird, it didn’t matter. It was still good. It looked good.

“What was that word you called me?” she asked.

He frowned.

“What?”

“Beautiful in Swedish.”

“Uhm, ‘vacker’, why?”

Catelyn wouldn’t have been able to pronounce that correctly if so her life had depended upon it, but she could give it a try. And she would give it a try.

“Because this drawing is vacker.”

Ned smiled at that.

“You think so?”

“Definitely, I love it.”

He slid it over the table to her.

“If that is so you can have it.”

She left not much later with the drawing in her bag, her head so full of things that she two times almost tripped and fell down the stairs because she forgot to watch where she was going. Most of all she thought about Ned. Everything about him, from the way he smiled to how he had thrown in a sentence of Swedish when he was embarrassed. She also thought about how he had called her beautiful. She hadn’t known it before, but Ned believed she was beautiful. That knowledge made her chest flutter. Maybe she was interested in him after all. Just a little bit though, it would most likely pass.

#catelyn stark #catelyn tully #ned stark #ashara dayne #elia martell #brandon stark #brynden tully #cersei lannister #ned x cat #my fic #raindrops snowflakes sunshine #after almost two weeks of promises it's here #its also a birthday gift from me to myself #a very late birthday gift but a birthday gift all the same #i hope you like it too

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