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what-do-1000-swords-look-like · 1 year

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Jonerys Was A Game of Faces: More Evidence That Pol!Jon Was A Thing

Literally the scene before Jon bends the knee in 7x06:

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This scene happens right after Dany watches as Jon's men undress him and sees the stab wounds from when Jon died.

Then we see Sansa sneaking into Arya's room and the first thing she sees after closing the door is a knife.

Then when Arya catches her rummaging around, Arya tells her about the Game of Faces she used to play while training to be a Faceless Man before she got her first Face:

"Back in Braavos, before I got my first Face, there was a game I used to play. A Game of Faces. It's simple, I ask you a question about yourself and you try to make a lie sound like the truth. If you fool me, you win. If I catch a lie, you lose. Let's play."

Sansa: "I don't want to play."

Arya: "How do you feel about Jon being King? Is there someone else you think should rule the North instead of him?"

Sansa: "Those faces...what are they?"

Arya: "Would you like to do the asking? Are you sure? The Game of Faces didn't turn out so well for the last person who asked me questions."

Sansa: "Tell me what they are."

Arya: "We both wanted to be other people when we were younger. You wanted to be a queen, to sit next to a handsome young king on the Iron Throne. I wanted to be a Knight, to pick up a sword like Father and go off to battle. Neither of us got to be that other person, did we? The world doesn't just let girls decide what they're going to be. But I can now. With the Faces, I can choose. I can become someone else. Speak in their voice, live in their skin. I can even become you." *she picks up the dagger* "I wonder what it would feel like to wear those pretty dresses. To be the Lady of Winterfell. All I'd need to find out is your face." *she hands the dagger to Sansa (indicating she's lost) & walks away*

Very next scene:

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Jon comes to and finds Dany sitting right there, staring at him. He sees that she's upset and immediately begins to apologize, saying he wishes that they'd never gone. He even reaches for her hand to take in his. His body is covered except for the heart stab wound. And then what follows?

Dany tells him that she doesn't wish that, because now she's seen. She agrees to help him fight the NK because of what happened to Viserion. (meaning she's still not committed for the right reason which means things can still change, especially with someone who is impulsive) He thanks her, calling her Dany. She likens him to Viserys because that was who last called her Dany. "Not the company you want to keep."

"Alright. Not Dany. How about My Queen?" (this will come into play later in a near future post)

"I'd, um, bend the knee, but..." (notice how he looks away from her during this line; in the very same season he tells Sansa that Ned always said every word after 'but' was horseshit)

"They'll come to see you for what you are."

The very same music "See You For What You Are" plays later in 8x06 when Jon and Dany have that glare off on the steps in KL.

And in the scene before this (Arya and Sansa's scene), they make sure to show us Sansa seeing the dagger first (which connects her to Jon and that he took a dagger to the heart, the very wounds Dany was just ogling), Arya startles Sansa who immediately mentions that she has hundreds of men loyal to her ("but they're not here, are they?"), Arya begins the Game of Faces despite Sansa Jon not wanting to play, asks Sansa what she thinks of Jon as King (right before he's about to bend the knee?) and who should rule the North (something that Dany and Jon have been debating over), subtly threatens Sansa Jon and then switches the game around, she talks about how she wanted to be a different person as did Sansa (remember Dany trying to emulate Rhaegar at one point?) but neither of them got to be (Dany turned out to be nothing like Rhaegar except for the obsession with the prophecy/destiny thing), Arya threatens Sansa & and loses the game while Sansa Jon wins, and Arya walks away leaving Sansa Jon holding the dagger in his hand.

Not only is this incredible foreshadowing for what's coming down the pipe in the next season, but they're also purposely linking all of this together to show us one thing: in a way, Jon is playing the Game of Faces with Dany. Dany fell in love with Jon and despite her growing paranoia and distrust of him once she knew the truth about his parentage, he was the one able to get close enough to end her tyranny, the one she didn't supposedly see coming. Dany also wasn't able to fool Jon or Sansa or Arya or Bran or anyone else up North on who she really was and what she was. Even most of Westeros wasn't fooled into thinking she was this great Savior Queen that they wanted back on the IT. (Olenna, Ellaria, and Yara all joined her for revenge; only Yara showed any bit of buying Dany's sales pitch & that was more due to her feelings about the woman & the "promised" independence than anything) Dany was only ever able to use her "Faces" to fool others: Breaker of Chains, Mhysa, Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi. And things didn't turn out well for those who didn't "bend the knee" aka believe that image asked her questions.

Jon played the Game of Faces (even though he didn't want to) and won in the end. Do I think he was playing it maliciously? No. I think like Arya confirms in 8x04, he did whatever it took to get Dany and her dragons North to fight the NK. And since Sansa could easily see what Dany was and didn't want to play (until that convo in 8x02 but it was quickly dashed by Dany's anger at Sansa's asking about the North), after the NK had been defeated, he did whatever it took to keep Dany placated (and she was family to him) and keep Sansa safe (since Sansa was the only real threat left to her in Winterfell by Dany's own words in 8x04), as well as becoming a prisoner of Dany's because of her knowing who he really is.

It was all a Game of Faces.

I know people didn't care for this scene between Arya and Sansa at casual glance because it felt very OOC and some Sansa fans were upset at Arya for threatening her, but this is exactly why that scene is sandwiched between the Jon/Dany boat scenes, and why these two characters were chosen as the players to speak that dialogue. Sansa and Jon are connected in more ways than one here, never mind in the series. It makes sense that Arya would be the one to (hopefully) teach Sansa and the audience about this game and what it actually would mean for Jon's bending the knee and submitting to Dany. As well as his answer to Cersei's proposal in the next episode. Personally, I think it went over a lot of GA's heads (as we saw from some of their reactions to Dany going dark at all in the next season), but it was there.

And they even made sure to call back to that line Jon says to Sansa in 7x01 (another connection between them btw besides those mentioned above & the Prisoner theme) as an overt reference in and of itself.

This is proof in the pudding that pol!Jon was very much a thing. They just didn't execute it 100% correctly, and they abandoned it in the eleventh hour for whatever reason. But it's all right there.

#pol!jon #pol!jon meta #pol!jonposts #gotposts #metaposts #anti jonerys #antijonerysposts #jon and sansa connections #game of thrones #jon snow #got

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thepalaceofmelanie · 3 months

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Martell Week- Day 2: Favorite quote

Tag: @elvinaa @adriennegabriella @wingsoftheangels @morby @tashastrange89 @candycanes19

(A/N: So this is based one idea I have with Oberyn, Ellaria and my Stark character. I’m not sure if I’ll have it in this particular verse as I’ll call it. The verse itself (and so are the others) are non-canon compliant. You’ll see in a moment!)

Day 2: Favorite Quote

“You're saying you need us? That must be hard for you to admit.”- Oberyn Martell

Song inspired: “The Truth Untold” by: BTS/ “Whore” by: In This Moment

If someone were to say the North and the South would unite; you’d think they lost their self to madness, while in reality that’s what was going on currently. Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand (With a few guards and others with them.) had found themselves in Winterfell.

Lord Eddard Stark was with them in the Great Hall; a look of worry, tiredness and the haunting of days gone by, longed on his face. Three goblets of wine were placed down; Catelyn joined them shortly after, just getting in from trying to find me.

“I have no idea where she’s at right now; I sent Robb to look for me; you know I need to be here.” Catelyn spoke.

“Thank you for coming Prince Oberyn, I hope your travel was safe.” Eddard started.

The Dornishman looked around for a moment before his eyes settled on Eddard.

“It was, thankfully. It is a shame you couldn’t come down to Dorne instead.” Oberyn tried to sound cheerful.

It was a bit too cold for his taste and Ellaria had his cloak on; but thankfully for them, they were sitting close to the fireplace. Of course the couple was as close as can be; while Eddard and Catelyn sat next to each other.

Culture can be so interesting can’t it?

I’ve always felt like more of a Dorne, then a Northwoman. I feel so detached to my own culture because of just being me. I hear people spread the rumors about me and, sure a few maybe true, but most are false.

“Ellaria Sand, My paramour.” Oberyn introduced.

“My Lord, My Lady.” Ellaria smiled, kindly.

Catelyn kept quiet, just observing but giving the woman a smile in return. Eddard found out that Doran couldn’t make it, Doran’s health was acting up again; so Oberyn was sent and, wherever Oberyn goes, so does Ellaria.

“So my Brother tells me, you want me to marry your daughter for an alliance.” Oberyn spoke after a moment.

“Yes, that’s correct.” Eddard answered.

“Lord Stark, I highly doubt you’re asking for political reasons.” Oberyn quipped.

Eddard blinked in surprised, believe it or not he was right. This wasn’t for political reasons, Catelyn looked to her husband and she’s shocked. Ellaria smirked and watched on. Eddard quickly recovered and kept his eyes on the Red Viper of Dorne. Eddard Stark knew this wasn’t going to be easy by any means.

“I would like the real reason, the political aspect can be for my Brother as far as I’m concerned.” Oberyn added.

Eddard took in a breath. Yes, Father, I wish you all the luck in the world on this. Honestly, if I was there, I would have to take control of it. That should be soon though. I mean, when I’m in King’s Landing, I don’t wear my house pin.

“It’s about my oldest daughter.-” Me, not Sansa or Arya. “I’m fearing for her safety. With all these rumors going around, I’m not sure what to do at this point.”

“Prince Oberyn, if I may, my daughter she’s...I’m worried that the Lannisters could try to have her killed. As you know the Starks and Lannisters are at odds with each other. With Cersei being married to King Robert, we have no idea what they may try to pull.” Catelyn spoke up.

Oberyn nodded, allowing them to continue.

“Well, rest assured Lady Catelyn, my lover and I, hate the Lannisters.” Ellaria replied.

The room went silent; yes we all know the story of Elia Martell and her children; just hearing about it sends chills and fear down my soul.

“Are any of them true?” Oberyn asked.

“As far as we know, one or two.” Eddard answered.

A look of wondering was on Ellaria’s face. She had an odd feeling and she wanted to know if it was right. After all, it’s not everyday that someone from Dorne comes up to the North. Ellaria looked over at Oberyn, the two lovers knowing what the other could say without speaking.

“You're saying you need us? That must be hard for you to admit.” Oberyn knew he won.

Both Eddard and Catelyn said nothing; that confirmed Ellaria’s feeling.

“She preferences both?” Oberyn asked.

“Yes, but we’ve never seen her with anyone.” Eddard answered.

“Also you know how judgmental some in the North can be.” Catelyn added.

Or Westros in general; I’ve been busy with things; I don’t have time for a relationship or whatever else, I know Mother and Father eventually planned to marry me to someone; so why bring on heartache? Plus, I enjoy my silence and books and my secrets.

“Then everyone is missing half the world's pleasure. The gods made women… and it delights me. The gods made men… and it delights me.” Oberyn smirked.

Ellaria smiled and looked at Oberyn. The two Starks drank some wine to make things less awkward.

“The other rumor...we’re not even sure on. There isn’t any evidence but lately she’s been going missing for extent of time after midnight. Some believe she’s using magic to sneak out of Winterfell and goes wherever.” Catelyn said with bated breath.

Well, actually that is true; but I don’t think I want to get into that right now.

“Really?” Oberyn said with a surprised expression.

“Despite the rumors, we realized at times we weren’t there for her when she needed us, but we do care about her. I want her to be safe and I’ve done everything that I can think of.” Eddard nodded.

“You’d be also surprised to know that our daughter has a vast knowing of Dorne.” Catelyn added.

This interested both of them; they both came closer to Mother and Father. As they talked, I finally got back to Winterfell. Something felt off, I looked around and started to walk to where the Great Hall is.

Something just told me to go.

Instead of going around to the outside entrance, I opened to go through the one inside entrance; that way I could see if I should be on guard or not. I quietly get to the door and look to see Mother and Father talking to two people. Wait, why do they look familiar?

I pushed the door opened and I blinked once they turned around.

“Ah, there you are daughter; come meet your betrothed, Prince Oberyn and his paramour, Ellaria Sand.”

#Martell week #Oberyn martell x oc x Ellaria Sand #possible future story but will rework this to improve #Mel's ideas #If you're wondering they met in the brothel

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weirwoodking · 3 years

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WHY WAS MICHELLE CLAPTON SO AGAINST LETTING ARYA BE PRETTY? (trying to help you in reaching your daily anti got post quota)

okay the first thing I saw was the words “Arya” and “pretty” in the same sentence and I thought you were trying to start up that discourse with me and I got scared for a sec.

But honestly, the real question is why wouldn’t Michelle Clapton let anyone look good? That woman was apparently on a mission to be the sole person responsible for the decline of creative costume design in the period drama genre. She tended to just design one outfit for each character that would last them 2-3 seasons. It looked stale and boring, especially since GRRM puts so much description and meaning into the clothing in the books. Like when Tyrion thinks about how Sansa “wears sorrow on her long dagged sleeves”, or how the blinded Arya has to learn to tell the difference between her different colored socks by feeling which one has stitching along the top. The Night’s Watch are the only group who wears all black, and you have to keep it that way, or else it loses its meaning. Cersei likes wearing green because it brings out her eyes. All of the clothing in the books adds into the character. And it’s also just creative. GRRM gave Clapton so much to work with (each house literally has its own colors to wear, it shouldn’t be that hard!) and she just chose to ignore all of it. Again, this is just a general problem with the whole production, like how D&D said that following the books “wouldn’t earn them bonus points.” They had zero respect for the material they were adapting, believing themselves to be better at doing this story than THE ACTUAL AUTHOR.

Since you brought up Arya, I’ll just focus on the outfits that people tend to hate the most: the costuming of show!Dany, show!Sansa, and show!Arya during the last two seasons. Obviously, they were horrible, and they only got like 2-3 outfits each throughout that whole period (maybe there were more, but they were so unmemorable and indistinguishable from the others that it doesn’t even matter). But let’s just brainstorm on what to do instead.

Dany: simple. STOP WITH THE FUCKING MONOCHROMATIC DRESSES. They were so lazy throughout the whole show. It was just blue, then white, then black or white fur. Dull dull dull. Put Dany in some winterized Dothraki-inspired clothing, with riding leathers, a chainmail shirt, thick horsehair pants, a black and red cloak, and flat-soled boots. If you’re going to keep ignoring her short hair, at least stop with the Party City wig that keeps magically conjuring more volume of hair out of nowhere. Give her a long braid.

Arya: Put her in the fucking Stark colors. And let her wear more than one outfit. The one she had was fine as a single outfit (that one-shouldered cloak thing wasn’t too bad), but not every single episode. Like Dany, Arya would most likely choose to wear pants most of the time, but she probably wouldn’t mind throwing on a wool dress once in a while. Perhaps have her in the formal dress style of her House/the North when they all meet Dany. For her hair, I don’t know why they wanted to scrape all the hair back off of Maisie and Sophie’s foreheads like that. Was it in their contracts that as much of their faces had to be showing on screen at all times possible and the hair would block that? Anyway, it’s just horrible styling for a couple reasons. 1) one of Arya’s characteristics is that her hair is always messy, it shouldn’t be in a tight style, and 2) if you’re gonna do braids in dark hair, you need to make them stand out, or else they get lost and the audience can’t see them. There’s a line in the books that mentions how Alys Karstark has strips of leather in her hair, and I think that that’s a great thing to build off of. Braid strips of leather or fabric into the northern girls’ hair, or add bands of bronze or iron around the braids. For Arya, I would either have her hair be completely loose and wind blown, or with small braids in the front of her hair that have accessories in them so they can be seen:

Sansa: holy shit just put her in a grey and blue wool dress. Everytime I think about show!Sansa’s costumes I just think about how Michelle Clapton said she gave her those dumb circle-chain necklaces because that’s what she likes to wear in her own life. Lady... if Sansa was your fashion-self-insert... you have bad style. For Sansa, I would, obviously, dress her in her house colors, as well as blue. I’d have her in mostly wool and fur, very little leather or metal, and inspired more by Celtic and Slavic folk clothing. For her hair, again, why, oh why, did they scrape it off her face like that? It makes her look so severe, and older than she was. You also can’t even see the back of her hair where the action is, because she’s facing the camera most of the time! I would give her braids that would be seen, and would frame her face. Perhaps braided pigtails:

Or a crown braid:

Now, something that annoys me about the whole show in general, not just with Dany, Sansa, and Arya, is the lack of crowns. Where’s Robb’s crown! Where’s Dany’s crown! Where’s Stannis’s crown! For the Stark sisters, I think that they should have had circlets, because they’re princesses. Jon was the king... he was their brother... they were princesses. It also solves the empty-foreheads problem. I would give Arya a simple, light bronze circlet, akin to the one Val is described to wear. And I would give Sansa something a bit more intricate, and made or dark iron to contrast her hair. One of my favorite hair styles in all of film is Éowyn’s hair during the funeral in The Two Towers. I think something like that would’ve been great for Sansa.

Also, last note, but I think it would be neat to show the characters doing their hair. Sansa walks into Arya’s room and we see Arya finishing up one of her braids. Arya walks into Sansa’s room, and Sansa is letting out her hair for the day. Show women interacting with their hair more, don’t make it feel like it’s just LEGO hair that they pop on every morning.

#oh holy shit this got long #sorry #ask #anon #anti got #long post

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butterflies-dragons · 3 years

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I don't think antis know about meaning of 'willowy'. When Jon said that Val is a warrior princess not a willowy creature brushing her hair, willowy is not an insult. It means tall, slender and graceful. And Sansa qualifies as willowy brushing her and like knights. It seems like Jon throwing shade on Sansa, but why? Considering he liked her brushing Lady hair and he himself wanted to be knight. Why he subtly remember Sansa while differentiating her with Val?

This is what I wrote about Val and the willowy creature line a while ago:

Val

Repeat after me: Val is not a warrior woman. Again: Val is not a warrior woman. One more time: Val is not a warrior woman. If you don’t believe me, then read this:

However, in my own defense, I should note that Dalla was not a “warrior woman” per se. She was from a warrior culture, yes; one that gave women the right, but not the obligation, to be fighters. Ygritte was a warrior woman, as was (most conspicuously) the fearsome Harma Dogshead. Dalla and Val were not.

[Source]

But you may say, ¿What about the “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair” quote?

Well, as GRRM has stated many times, all his POVS are “Unreliable Narrators”. Being from a “warrior culture” doesn’t make you automatically a “warrior woman”. But here is Jon Snow “deciding” that Val was a “warrior princess”. Once again, the contrast, the dichotomy in one single person: ¿A warrior like Arya, a princess like Sansa? Not that Arya has ever fought in a war, but you get my point. And Sansa was created following the princess archetype.

I will show you one of my favorite Jon’s passages that will serve us to read “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair” line with a better and more revealing light:

I call this passage the “Jon -It’s nothing special- Snow”. Or as we say in Spanish when we can’t get what we really want: “Al cabo que ni quería”, that can be translated as “I didn’t even want it anyway”. Let’s see:

"Oh, I learn things everywhere I go.” The little man gestured up at the Wall with a gnarled black walking stick. “As I was saying … why is it that when one man builds a wall, the next man immediately needs to know what’s on the other side?” He cocked his head and looked at Jon with his curious mismatched eyes. “You do want to know what’s on the other side, don’t you?”

“It’s nothing special,” Jon said. He wanted to ride with Benjen Stark on his rangings, deep into the mysteries of the haunted forest, wanted to fight Mance Rayder’s wildlings and ward the realm against the Others, but it was better not to speak of the things you wanted. “The rangers say it’s just woods and mountains and frozen lakes, with lots of snow and ice.”

—A Game of Thrones - Jon III

I mean… COME ON! This is one of the most telling passages to know, to really know Jon’s true nature, and it’s very, very similar to the quote about “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair”:

They are all convinced she is a princess. Val looked the part and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

“Some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.” Nah, it’s nothing special, I didn’t even want it anyway, not for me, no.

Do I have to say more???

Actually, yes, I have.

Jon Snow does really want a lady. Jon Snow does really want to be a knight and rescue a maiden. Jon Snow does really want a lady to love and be loved back by her. Here some evidence:

Jon Snow wished that his mother were a highborn lady: “Not my mother, Jon thought stubbornly. He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind.”

Jon Snow wanted to be a hero like the Prince Aemon Dragonknight. The same Prince Aemon that jousted in a tourney, won it, and crowned his sister and lady love “Queen of Love and Beauty”, something that is straight out from the courtly love book: “The Dragonknight once won a tourney as the Knight of Tears, so he could name his sister the queen of love and beauty in place of the king’s mistress”.

Jon Snow tried to comfort Gilly with courtesy: “Gilly, he called me. For the gillyflower.” “That’s pretty.” He remembered Sansa telling him once that he should say that whenever a lady told him her name. He could not help the girl, but perhaps the courtesy would please her”.

Jon Snow put Ghost between Ygritte and him and remembers that knights put their swords between their ladies and themselves, something that is straight out from the courtly love book: “After that he had taken to using Ghost to keep her away. Old Nan used to tell stories about knights and their ladies who would sleep in a single bed with a blade between them for honor’s sake, but he thought this must be the first time where a direwolf took the place of the sword”.

Jon Snow imagined romancing Ygritte as if she were a lady: “If I could show her Winterfell … give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us”.

Jon Snow wished for a domestic life in Winterfell, with his wife and children: I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. […] I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister’s son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly’s boy as well. […] Mance’s son and Craster’s would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb. He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily”.

Jon is a romantic that called his mare “sweet lady”.

Jon Snow closer friends in the Night’s Watch are Samwell Tarly and satin, they are literally male!Sansas.

Jon remembers fondly Sansa’s more feminine and ladylike traits: her romantic nature, her courtesies, her singing.

It’s also worth to mention that, despite Val’s beauty and physical attractiveness, Jon Snow, once again, appreciates her being maternal and singing to Gilly’s son, but was turned off by Val saying she would kill Princess Shireen:

“I have heard you singing to him.”

“I was singing to myself. Am I to blame if he listens?” A faint smile brushed her lips. “It makes him laugh. Oh, very well. He is a sweet little monster.”

“Monster?”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VIII

Once outside and well away from the queen’s men, Val gave vent to her wroth. “You lied about her beard. That one has more hair on her chin than I have between my legs. And the daughter … her face …”

“Greyscale.”

“The grey death is what we call it.”

“It is not always mortal in children.”

“North of the Wall it is. Hemlock is a sure cure, but a pillow or a blade will work as well. If I had given birth to that poor child, I would have given her the gift of mercy long ago.”

This was a Val that Jon had never seen before. “Princess Shireen is the queen’s only child.”

“I pity both of them. The child is not clean.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

Wait a minute! Val was “singing to herself” like Jon’s memory of Sansa “singing to herself” while brushing out Lady’s coat???

Where did Jon get this idea of “some willowy creature that only brushes her hair” from??? It could be from his half sister Sansa, a literal princess, now trapped in a tower, that always brushed her hair and even brushed out her direwolf’s fur???

“She had brushed out her long auburn hair until it shone” —Sansa

“Her thick auburn hair had been brushed until it shone.” —Eddard

I often sent away her maid so I could brush her hair myself. —Catelyn

He thought […] Of Sansa, brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself. —Jon

And I also suspect that when Jon said this about Val:

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him.

They look as though they belong together. Val was clad all in white; white woolen breeches tucked into high boots of bleached white leather, white bearskin cloak pinned at the shoulder with a carved weirwood face, white tunic with bone fastenings. Her breath was white as well … but her eyes were blue, her long braid the color of dark honey, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

He was remembering another pretty girl, princess like, next to a direwolf, looking as though they belong together.

A young beautiful girl, that everyone considers a princess, next to a direwolf???

Val is a beautiful young woman, Sansa is a beautiful young maiden.

Val has long blonde hair the color of dark honey which she wears in a braid. Val actually take care of her hair, enough to braid it, like Sansa that always brushes it. And if you google “dark honey” hair color you will find a variety of reddish brown (auburn) and reddish blonde hair colors.

Val has high sharp cheekbones, like Sansa.

Val’s eyes are pale grey or blue. Again the grey/blue eyes pattern…

Val is slender with a full bosom, like Sansa.

So?

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him. […] It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

Of Sansa, brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself.

Think about it!

* * *

For anyone interested, this is an excerpt from this post.

#anon asks #jonsa

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janiedean · 3 years

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hey, can you talk about this: why is it that even after jaime saves brienne from rape & jumps into a bearpit for her, brienne still expects the worst from him and thinks he wants her to kill sansa? can b ever fully trust and love jaime? will brienne ever accept that jaime loves her and is capable of good or will she always expect evil from him/ be insecure + expect him to pull a ronnet? i think this will cause problems for them if they ever get together. do you think it would be a deal-breaker?

tldr: no because the moment you read her affc povs you see she’s way past her initial distrust and actually that scene is... the turning point? like you don’t know that because you don’t have her pov, but anyway I think I’ll just break it down and be done with it since I had wanted to for a while - regardless, premise: you can see exactly how far she goes with trusting him/changing her mind about him by seeing her dialogue choices in asos before, as in, she calls him ser for the first time after he saves her from being raped and when they’re in the bath she snaps at him the moment he goads her about renly and she’s naked in front of a man and she feels most likely guilty for the loss of his hand, and the moment he faints she catches him and she volunteers to dress him/clean him up after, like... you don’t do that if you don’t want to and if you don’t care about the person some regardless. ANYWAY SO let me just find the whole scene.

SOOOO, counting that he’s doing this just after he basically broke up with cersei...

The wench looked as ugly and awkward as ever, he decided when Tyrell left them. Someone had dressed her in woman’s clothes again, but this dress fit much better than that hideous pink rag the goat had made her wear. “Blue is a good color on you, my lady,” Jaime observed. “It goes well with your eyes.” She does have astonishing eyes.

Brienne glanced down at herself, flustered. “Septa Donyse padded out the bodice, to give it that shape. She said you sent her to me.” She lingered by the door, as if she meant to flee at any second. “You look . . .”

“Different?” He managed a half-smile. “More meat on the ribs and fewer lice in my hair, that’s all. The stump’s the same. Close the door and come here.” She did as he bid her. “The white cloak . . .”

“. . . is new, but I’m sure I’ll soil it soon enough.”

“That wasn’t . . . I was about to say that it becomes you.”

right, so, when this entire scene starts you have the worst flirting that ever existed but like basically that’s pretty much what it is - they haven’t seen each other in a while right, and first he goes like UH UGLY AND AWKWARD, then in the span of three lines he decides that the dress looks nice on her and it fits her, and when he opens his mouth he calls her my lady and compliments her on her appearance and her eyes and then thinks SHE HAS ASTONISHING EYES which like... jaime you were thinking she was ugly three lines ago where is the truth, the truth is that he’s hella attracted to her, he’s not admitting it to himself but he can’t help saying it and so hey hello brienne, you just showed up in my room where I summoned you after having you freed and I’m telling you you’re hot!! when you never heard it before from a guy ever!!!

brienne at that point is FLUSTERED and feels like pointing out the bodice is padded as if he hasn’t seen her naked, and she’s obviously afraid af because she’s standing near the door, and then she goes like ‘you look...’ while most likely STARING at him like OH MY GOD HAVEN’T SEEN HIM IN WEEKS LOOK AT HIM jesus, and then he starts going off with the self-deprecating humor telling her to get over here, she does, she starts again with the white cloak, he goes all defensive self-deprecating again (I’ll soil it soon enough, presuming that she still thinks that of him)... and then she goes like I was about to say it becomes you, which means I’m telling you A WHITE CLOAK FITS YOU AND IS BECOMING ON YOU, which given the significancy of the white cloak/kg/the fact that he confessed her he believed in his vow/knighthood when he was fifteen in the bath... she’s telling him being honorable becomes him, which sorry but does not to me qualify as ‘expecting the worse of him’. now:

She came closer, hesitant. “Jaime, did you mean what you told Ser Loras? About . . . about King Renly, and the shadow?”

Jaime shrugged. “I would have killed Renly myself if we’d met in battle, what do I care who cut his throat?”

“You said I had honor . . .”

“I’m the bloody Kingslayer, remember? When I say you have honor, that’s like a whore vouchsafing your maidenhood.” He leaned back and looked up at her.

problem is: he is on the self-deprecative spiral wanting to distance himself, which I have a feeling is because he’s a) upset because of cersei from before b) not exactly processing his feelings re being into her, so everything she is saying he’s shutting her down, which makes her hesitant - first he shrugs away having gotten her out of prison and talking for her to loras when if you read that part you know he cares about getting her out, she’s all like oh YOU SAID I HAD HONOR!!! **, and he immediately shuts that down too with the it’s worth nothing if I do, so basically she’s there all ‘!!! ** !!!’ and he’s back to shutting her out, which... considering how brienne is would make her lose a lot of courage here, right? right. also: SHE CALLED HIM JAIME in the beginning, which means... she feels like they’re on a familiar enough level that she can use his name without the ser before and she’s not calling him kingslayer. like. she’s absolutely expecting the best here.

“Steelshanks is on his way back north, to deliver Arya Stark to Roose Bolton.”

“You gave her to him?” she cried, dismayed. “You swore an oath to Lady Catelyn . . .”

“With a sword at my throat, but never mind. Lady Catelyn’s dead. I could not give her back her daughters even if I had them. And the girl my father sent with Steelshanks was not Arya Stark.”

“Not Arya Stark?”

“You heard me. My lord father found some skinny northern girl more or less the same age with more or less the same coloring. He dressed her up in white and grey, gave her a silver wolf to pin her cloak, and sent her off to wed Bolton’s bastard.” He lifted his stump to point at her. “I wanted to tell you that before you went galloping off to rescue her and got yourself killed for no good purpose. You’re not half bad with a sword, but you’re not good enough to take on two hundred men by yourself.”

now, for the chapter where grrm knows that words mean things: the definition of dismayed is : experiencing or showing feelings of alarmed concern or dismay : upset, worried, or agitated because of some unwelcome situation or occurrence, which means that the moment jaime goes like ‘oh and I gave arya to roose bolton’ she is UPSET at hearing that... because she didn’t expect that? she changed her mind, she thinks he’s honorable, he saved her from being raped, he’s complimenting her, she’s trying to compliment him, she thinks they have an understanding, he told her all of that...... and now he’s telling her he gave arya back to the boltons? when she thought he cared about their oath and he freed her? like what the fuck jaime? obviouly she’s upset, but because she already expected better and he’s a disaster emotionally stunted person who just moved on from 17yo of emotional maturity and he can’t have that conversation without going in self-defense. he points out he can’t do that but anyway then tells her it’s not arya.. because he didn’t want brienne to go after her ie he cared about her well-being and now he throws in a compliment too (you’re not half bad with a sword) and she’s most likely like wtf, also he gestures at her with the stump which cersei refused to interact with before and brienne doesn’t even flinch at that, but never mind let’s go on.

Brienne shook her head. “When Lord Bolton learns that your father paid him with false coin . . .”

“Oh, he knows. Lannisters lie, remember? It makes no matter, this girl serves his purpose just as well. Who is going to say that she isn’t Arya Stark? Everyone the girl was close to is dead except for her sister, who has disappeared.”

“Why would you tell me all this, if it’s true? You are betraying your father’s secrets.”

The Hand’s secrets, he thought. I no longer have a father. “I pay my debts like every good little lion. I did promise Lady Stark her daughters . . . and one of them is still alive. My brother may know where she is, but if so he isn’t saying. Cersei is convinced that Sansa helped him murder Joffrey.”

“The wench’s mouth got stubborn. “I will not believe that gentle girl a poisoner. Lady Catelyn said that she had a loving heart. It was your brother. There was a trial, Ser Loras said.”

as stated: she shakes her head, which is a thing you do... when you’ve just been given conflicting information, which he just did because he just told her HEY MY FATHER JUST BASICALLY LIED TO HIS ALLY, but poor girl is not a political shrewd mind because a moment later he explains her that they both knew and so on, and at that point brienne is understandably like WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS IT’S TREASON, which it technically is.... and then he remembers tywin disowned him and they argued so ‘I no longer have a father’, but he doesn’t tell brienne that, goes back to self-defensive, goes like ‘well I’m a good lion and I pay my debts’ and then only mentions what his brother and sister think, counting that brienne doesn’t know tyrion and know what he does about cersei... that might make her think that he’s taking their side, and now she is getting defensive pointing out it couldn’t be sansa and so on, but like... he basically has given her conflicted reactions, now she’s back on the defensive... as she generally is unless it’s with someone she trusts.

“Two trials, actually. Words and swords both failed him. A bloody mess. Did you watch from your window?”

“My cell faces the sea. I heard the shouting, though.”

“Prince Oberyn of Dorne is dead, Ser Gregor Clegane lies dying, and Tyrion stands condemned before the eyes of gods and men. They’re keeping him in a black cell till they kill him.”

Brienne looked at him. “You do not believe he did it.”

Jaime gave her a hard smile. “See, wench? We know each other too well. Tyrion’s wanted to be me since he took his first step, but he’d never follow me in kingslaying. Sansa Stark killed Joffrey. My brother’s kept silent to protect her. He gets these fits of gallantry from time to time. The last one cost him a nose. This time it will mean his head.”

now they discuss the trials blah blah blah, and brienne figures out he doesn’t believe tyrion did it just from the tone/the way he says it - because the facts are kind of straight, so it must be the tone of voice, and then what does he says as he gives her a *hard smile*? that they know each other too well. and then he goes and says a bunch of stuff that’s not true (sansa killed joffrey, tyrion kept silent), goading her again...

“No,” Brienne said. “It was not my lady’s daughter. It could not have been her.”

“There’s the stubborn stupid wench that I remember.”

“She reddened. “My name is . . .”

“Brienne of Tarth.” Jaime sighed. “I have a gift for you.” He reached down under the Lord Commander’s chair and brought it out, wrapped in folds of crimson velvet.

Brienne approached as if the bundle was like to bite her, reached out a huge freckled hand, and flipped back a fold of cloth. Rubies glimmered in the light. She picked the treasure up gingerly, curled her fingers around the leather grip, and slowly slid the sword free of its scabbard. Blood and black the ripples shone. A finger of reflected light ran red along the edge. “Is this Valyrian steel? I have never seen such colors.”

“Nor I. There was a time that I would have given my right hand to wield a sword like that. Now it appears I have, so the blade is wasted on me. Take it.” Before she could think to refuse, he went on. “A sword so fine must bear a name. It would please me if you would call this one Oathkeeper. One more thing. The blade comes with a price.”

... at which brienne absolutely falls for it and protests but then he goes like ‘oh there you are’, so he was most likely either testing her or pushing her to say it again/assure himself of what he was doing, but for her... it’d be even more confusing. she blushes when he calls her wench, and then when he says he has a gift she’s scared af until she sees what it is, and when she asks what it is first he does the self-deprecation thing again, then says he wants it named oathkeeper, so far so good... and then says it comes with a price, which makes it sound like she has to do something in return to have it, and how would that sound to her after this entire conversation when he hasn’t told her that he’s cut off ties with anyone but tyrion and he’s been basically hostile/sarcastic/has rebuked all her compliments?

Her face darkened. “I told you, I will never serve . . .”

“. . . such foul creatures as us. Yes, I recall. Hear me out, Brienne. Both of us swore oaths concerning Sansa Stark. Cersei means to see that the girl is found and killed, wherever she has gone to ground . . .”

Brienne’s homely face twisted in fury. “If you believe that I would harm my lady’s daughter for a sword, you—”

“Just listen,” he snapped, angered by her assumption. “I want you to find Sansa first, and get her somewhere safe. How else are the two of us going to make good our stupid vows to your precious dead Lady Catelyn?”

The wench blinked. “I . . . I thought . . .”

now here’s the point but like... she assumes he wanted her to do what cersei wanted when he hasn’t given her any other hint he might want to do otherwise throughout the exchange and basically never told her anything straight and she had come in all excited and wanting to compliment him and presuming the best, and then he gets angry because she assumed wrong... but what was she going to assume? then again: asos!jaime handles a lot of his interactions like an angry teenager because again he started moving on from it during this book and he has no idea of how to deal with her or that that kinda attitude would confuse the shit out of her and make her assume wrong things when she wasn’t assuming them to begin with, and when she immediately realizes he just wanted to keep the oath she goes back to OH, like... she was presuming they’d withhold it from the beginning when she mentioned it along with arya, so it’s her now knowing she was right and go like OH FUCK I FUCKED UP, but like... jaime baby ily but just tell her from the get go right? nah, I guess. buuut let’s go on.

“I know what you thought.” Suddenly Jaime was sick of the sight of her. She bleats like a bloody sheep. “When Ned Stark died, his greatsword was given to the King’s Justice,” he told her. “But my father felt that such a fine blade was wasted on a mere headsman. He gave Ser Ilyn a new sword, and had Ice melted down and reforged. There was enough metal for two new blades. You’re holding one. So you’ll be defending Ned Stark’s daughter with Ned Stark’s own steel, if that makes any difference to you.”

“Ser, I . . . I owe you an apolo . . .”

He cut her off. “Take the bloody sword and go, before I change my mind. There’s a bay mare in the stables, as homely as you are but somewhat better trained. Chase after Steelshanks, search for Sansa, or ride home to your isle of sapphires, it’s naught to me. I don’t want to look at you anymore.”

“Jaime . . .”

“Kingslayer,” he reminded her. “Best use that sword to clean the wax out of your ears, wench. We’re done.”

Stubbornly, she persisted. “Joffrey was your . . .”

now not that I don’t think that jaime wasn’t pushing her also in... outright denial of not wanting her to go, but: now he’s angry at her (when he technically got her angry when he could have not) and wants her to go and he’s telling her again in the sarcasticselfdefense tone and she immediately - immediately - tries to apologize, he shuts her off, doesn’t tell her that the mare is not homely at all, and tells her it’s naught to him when it’s all to him since she knows what his honor means to him, she goes from ‘ser’ (honorific) to ‘jaime’ (personal) and he goes back to ‘nah I’m the kingslayer see that’s all I’ll ever be leave’, except that... she doesn’t leave and she persists, stubbornly, because she actually wants to know, and presses asking about joffrey since she knows he was his father and is most likely still WTFFFFF HE’S BETRAYING HIS FAMILY...

“My king. Leave it at that.”

“You say Sansa killed him. Why protect her?”

Because Joff was no more to me than a squirt of seed in Cersei’s cunt. And because he deserved to die. “I have made kings and unmade them. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honor.” Jaime smiled thinly. “Besides, kingslayers should band together. Are you ever going to go?”

Her big hand wrapped tight around Oathkeeper. “I will. And I will find the girl and keep her safe. For her lady mother’s sake. And for yours.” She bowed stiffly, whirled, and went.

she expects him to say his son? he say ‘his king’ and LEAVE IT AT THAT, giving the idea he doesn’t care, and at that point she goes like okay so why would you protect the person you said killed him, fair question right, which I think on her side was... wanting to see what he’d reply because she’s realizing he won’t answer straight right, and exactly he thinks ‘joffrey deserved it and was nothing to me’ but doesn’t tell her that, he tells her that he made kings and unmade them, fair, and then that sansa is his last chance at honor, and smiles thinly (not hard like before), which suggests he’s visually being sincere, and it’s an answer brienne would get... and then he reminds her that he’s called a kingslayer and she is called one and neither of them actually were in the wrong but they both have bad fame for it and they should band together and pledge their oath, and... brienne gets it because she stops asking questions, takes the sword and goes, but instead of falling for his bait or be angry about being called a kingslayer, she says she’ll fulfill their oath and find sansa for catelyn’s sake and for his sake too, pointing out she’s swearing a vow to him too before she leaves after bowing, which basically seals it...

which means that she walked in with a good impression of him, he challenged it, then she realized it wasn’t wrong and he just was shit as communicating and she’s not... expecting the worse anymore? anytime she thinks of him in affc is as the honorable man who saved her and she swore a vow to and she wishes would be with her on her quest, not as someone she doesn’t trust. so, to go with your questions:

1) brienne still expects the worst from him and thinks he wants her to kill sansa?

as stated from the above: she doesn’t :)

2) can b ever fully trust and love jaime?

she was about to die for him at the end of affc, I think she already does X°D

3) will brienne ever accept that jaime loves her and is capable of good or will she always expect evil from him/ be insecure + expect him to pull a ronnet?

she’s already... not? I mean, accepting he loves her might be a problem because she doesn’t conceive he would as it is and it’d take a while for her to not be insecure, but that he’s capable of good she already does, and she’s way past expecting him to pull a ronnet XD she doesn’t even compare them once like... I don’t see how this would be a thing X°DD

4) i think this will cause problems for them if they ever get together. do you think it would be a deal-breaker?

I don’t because like... okay her being insecure might eventually but honestly she wanted to die for him anon and she was convinced of his good intentions the moment she walked into the room and then he threw her in for a loop and she came out of that even more convinced soooooo no I really don’t think it would XD

#jaime x brienne #janie writes meta #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #asoiafmeta #otp: i dreamed of you #Anonymous #ask post #a song of ice and fire #ch: brienne of tarth #ch: jaime lannister #otp: i only rescue maidens #het ship of my heart #only slightly less toxic than chernobyl's ruins #anti-cersei lannister #anti-cersei #anti-lannincest #anti-jaime x cersei

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nymerias-heart · 3 years

Text

How I imagine Lyanna and Arya.

I think Lyanna would have a darker shade of brown hair then Arya (I didn't have dark brown markers on me, so the hair looks lighter then what I wanted it to be). I also think her hair would have been straighter. Catelyn has curly Auburn hair, there is no mention of Arya's hair being curly but we are told it was always tangled and messy like a birds nest so I'm assuming it has to be at least wavy.

The stark look consists of a long face, brown hair and Grey eyes. But also its mentioned that Arya has a pointy nose, so I'm guessing that's part of the stark look. So I drew both of them pointy noses, though Lyannas is more pointy because once again, even though Arya doesn't share any of catelyns features (other than long fingers) I still think you could still see the influence in Arya from catelyns genes as opposed to Lyanna who's parents were both starks and who I'm guessing both had the stark look not really giving her any variety.

I think they'd both have the same shade of grey eyes. Though the only thing ever mentioned about them is that they are grey (and that Arya has sad grey eyes, said by kindly man) we do know though that bran describes Jon's eyes as 'so dark they were almost black' and Jon thinks Arya has the same eyes as him. So both her and Lyanna have dark grey eyes, which I couldn't draw because they would just turn out looking black and look a bit weird, which is why I think most people just draw them lighter, so you can actually see the eyes.

Ned says Arya reminds him of Lyanna and that she looks like her, and Bran cannot tell the difference between a young Lyanna and Arya. So they obviously look VERY similar but that doesn't mean they have to look exactly the same and this is just my opinion on how they look.

Now onto the outfits (I'm not very good at drawing, I know😂😂). People in the fandom have a tendency to draw Arya in Browns and just dark colours in general and then draw Lyanna in bright blues and stuff...... And that just makes no sense to me.

Lyanna was raised in the North, for the majority of her life she had no connection to the south, no southern influence. Not only that but people forget that when the tourney of harrenhaal happened, everyone thought spring had come but it turned out to be a false spring, meaning that for most of her life, Lyanna grew up in the winter so her having darker clothes, that are thicker and have more fur makes more sense but yet you rarely see her in ones like that. Lyanna should be drawn in winter clothes, not only for the weather but also because in winter, people have more important things to care about then how the girls dressed(as long as she isn't dying from the cold because she was underdressed).

On the other hand, Arya whos mother is from the South, who was raised by a septa, and in a lot of southern ideas. 'she prayed with her mother in the sept and her father in the godswood' this Arya who had plenty of southern influence is always drawn in dark wintery clothes even though as ned says she 'was born in the long summer, you have never know anything else' so why does Arya who's whole life was spring and summer get winter clothes?

In my opinion it just stems from the idea that Arya is boyish therefore shes drawn in clothes that are deemed boyish but also northern. And Lyanna gets drawn in dresses and a lot more southern looking fashion and always with soft girly features, oh also shes always in a clean, neat gown even though everything we know about her tells us she's like Arya and isn't a girly girl. Just like Arya 'half a boy half a wolf pup', Lyanna is also described as boyish yet the fandom somehow glosses over that.

I'm sick of seeing Lyanna in blue dresses, when even after searching for any quote, I could not find any mention of Lyanna in a blue dress, nor in any dress. There's no mention of it. Yet in almost every single drawing of Lyanna she is wearing one. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️.

Also, see above quote. Lyanna is said to not hold any of elias delicate beauty and still she's always drawn as thus delicate perfect lady when everything we know about her contradicts that.

In the above image from the world of asoiaf, we see lyanna at the tourney of harrenhal and not a single blue dress in sight. That image was approved by george.

Anyways, sorry for the rant😂😂 but I just had to get that out.

#asoiaf #arya stark #lyanna stark #house stark #Lyanna/Arya #my art

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dany-is-my-queen · 4 years

Text

Born To Be Yours | Part II

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 1,795

Note: I’m back!!!

Part 1 here Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9

“You shouldn’t interfere when it’s none of your business.” Joffrey was still angry with you.

“Don’t mess with the ladies and we’ll be in peace.” You calmly said.

“Always so honorable... the hero saving the day.” Your mother mocked.

“Why you say it like that, mother? I would do it over again, you are so heartless and extreme about little matters.” You rolled your eyes.

“You don’t care about your brother's honor. That’s the real reason you defended those pathetic girls.” She spat.

“I do care about him. It’s the other way around. You are a pampered kid. You should start acting more like a man, Joffrey.” And with that you left his room.

“May I come in, princess?” The sweet voice of the oldest Stark daughter rang. You were on just a pair of trousers, definitely not wearing proper clothes to be talking to her.

“Of course, my lady. Just give me a second, please.” You put on a dress. “Let her in.”

“I wanted to apologize for my earlier behavior. You saved my wolf’s life, I’ll be forever thankful, my princess.”

“It was the right thing to do. I would have preferred her to stay by your side, though.”

“She’ll find a new home. I hope she returns to the north, where she belongs.” You gave her a soothing smile. “Does prince Joffrey hates me?” She asked sadly.

“No no, he is just a bit... irritating and gets easily offended. But it’s not personal, my lady. You are promised to him so with time your relationship will evolve.”

“I hope so. I’ll leave you to enjoy your evening, my princess.”

“Lady Sansa, if you need someone to talk to you can always come to me. You and your sister. I pray for your little brother to wake up. She nodded.

“You are very kind.”

~~~~~~

“Did you found a suitable candidate up in the North, niece?” Uncle Renly asked with a droll voice.

“I met a boy... very good looking and a gentleman but he wasn’t my type. He’s the eldest son of Lord Eddard.”

“Sounds quite the man.”

“We didn’t have the chance to get closer so I’ll forget about him.” You might never see him again after all.

“Princess Y/N, what can I do for you?” The tall man greeted.

“I haven’t had the chance to thank you, my lord, for accepting to be the new hand. I know it was a difficult choice to make, leaving your home. My father really needs you. He lacks of loyal friends and I believe you’ll be very helpful around here.”

“Oh, I will do my best not to let Robert down.” He smiled.

“A raven came this morning. I- I forgot to deliver it earlier, my lord hand.” Maester Pycelle said with his usual stutter and left.

“Good news?”

“My Princess! I didn’t expect to see you.” A voice that didn’t please you stated.

“Lord Baelish.” You faked a perfect smile.

“Lord Stark, perhaps you’ll like to share the news with your wife.”

“She’s on Winterfell.”

“Is she?”

“I won’t tell my mother. Lord Baelish knows I can keep a secret. Can I join you?” The relation you had with Petyr was not the best. He informed you of things your parents won’t share with you. Despite that you never liked him nor his personality.

“Better not keep her waiting.” You reached his brothel unnoticed.

“I’ll talk to her when you’re done. I’m not a spy. I can be trusted but I prefer to stay out of your business, Lord Eddard.” And it was true. You had no interest in gossiping.

“Thank you.” They entered. Not before he took Baelish and throttle him suspecting this was a trick.

“Lady Catelyn.” You bowed your head.

“Princess Y/N, what a surprise...” She looked at you with dismay.

“It’s fine. I won’t tell a soul. I am glad to hear that little Bran is finally awake. And also, I wanted to let you know that I’ll keep your daughters safe. Now that you both are here I give you my word. My family is complicated and tends to have a reputation. I will look after Lady Sansa and Lady Arya, as long as I can, I promise.” Since the incident with the direwolves you had this enormous feeling of responsibility, deep down you knew their stay in King’s Landing won’t be as enjoyable as they thought. You hoped you were wrong. Prevention was a good idea.

“I will be in your debt, my princess. Knowing this gives me relief. It’s hard to find good people here in the capital.”

“It certainly is. Say hello to Lord Robb from me.” You wished her good travel home but sensed trouble in her.

~~~~~~

“Y/N! Want to spar? I’m so bored and Myrcella is doing lady stuff.” Tommen asked you, holding his little sword.

“That’s not proper for a princess to do and mother doesn’t approve.” Joffrey hissed.

“But father does. We are not useless like yourself, big brother.” You rumpled your brother’s hair. “Let’s go Tommen.” You found Arya in the courtyard with his dancing teacher. “Mind if we join the class?”

“This is Syrio Forel, he is from Braavos.”

“My Princess, my Prince.” He did a small reverence.

“I want to learn how to be a knight!” Tommen said excitedly. After a long time practicing you got tired. Syrio was surprised when he saw the way you wield the wooden blade.

“Natural talent, Princess Y/N.”

“Thank you. My father was the first person that taught me how to properly do it so I can defend myself when there are no guards around. Ser Jaime also instructed me of some techniques.”

“That’s my intent too. Not wearing dresses and attending to councils. I was born for this.” Arya said sure.

“No one will be able to stop you when you are old enough, perhaps not even now.” She grinned.

You could see yourself in this girl, you have a lot in common. She was fearless and didn’t seem to want to marry a lord and live in a castle. You could also see the similarities between Lady Sansa and you. You love to fight and go hunting, use a bow, but you knew how to weave as well, how to properly greet the lords and ladies, and you wished to get married someday. You were a proper daughter, with dignity and manners, your father was always more fond of you, your mother on the other hand... she loved you in her own way, you were the perfect child in everyone’s eyes.

“Lady Sansa, I am happy to know your brother is fine.” You put a hand on her shoulder.

“He won’t be able to walk ever again. But it was a miracle. Thanks for your prayers.” She answered.

“Would you like to visit the Throne Room? Your septa can join us.” She nodded.

“Someday your husband will sit there and you by his side, then you’re going to present your son to the court. All the important people of the Seven Kingdoms will gather here to see the prince.” Septa Mordane stated.

“What if I have a girl?” The Stark inquired.

“If the gods are good you’ll have girls and boys, plenty of them.”

“They all going to be beautiful children. Just like her mother.” You complemented.

“But if I only had girls...”

“The throne will pass to Tommen, my little brother.”

“And everyone will hate me.” She harried said.

“No one could ever hate you, Sansa.” Her septa affirmed.

“Your Septa is right, my lady. I already told you. As your friend, I won’t let anybody speak ill of you. Besides, you are lovely.” You squeezed her hand.

“Thank you, my princess.”

“Sansa, do you remember your lessons? Who built the Iron Throne?”

“Aegon the conqueror.”

“And who built the Red Keep?”

“Maegor the cruel. My grandfather and uncle were murdered here, by orders of the Mad King. Why?”

“You should speak to your father about these matters.”

“You are dismissed.” The old woman left. You walked towards the throne indicating her to follow you.

“Would you like to seat on the throne, my lady? It’s not a comfortable chair but it was forged from the one thousand swords that had been surrendered to Aegon in the War of Conquest by the lords who had offered their fealty, though the actual number of the swords is less than two hundred. These were melted down by the fiery breath of Balerion the Black Dread.” You conclude telling her.

“You seem to like these type of stories, Princess. Your knowledge for the topic is quite vast.” She was surprised yet amused.

“Yes, I enjoy to read and uncle Tyrion told me a lot about this when I was just a little girl. What kind of stories enthralled you, sweet lady?”

“The ones with honorable knights, chivalry and love.” A dreamt sigh left her mouth.

“I like those too. Especially this tale about Ser Florian called Florian the Fool, he was a legendary hero of the Riverlands from the Age of Heroes. He felt in love with a maiden named Jonquil. Singers compared the sudden marriage of King Jaehaerys I Targaryen and Queen Alysanne Targaryen to their great romance.

“I know that one! Is my favorite tale of all time. But I didn’t know they compared them with the Targaryens of that period. It’s very romantic.” She blushed a little.

“And one of the songs... I think this is how it goes, Six maids there were in a spring-fed pool... oh my gods! I sound terrible.”

“No! You have an adorable voice, princess Y/N.” You grinned.

“You are lying! I found that song a bit creepy. He was watching Jonquil and her sisters bathed. The face of the girl turned just like her hair. I didn’t mean to ruin it.” Both of you laughed.

“It’s alright. I still love it.” The throne room was never your favorite place to be, it was hollow and boring. You imagine all the horrible things that happened here. But now with the presence of such a pretty lass it felt different, not gloomy at all.

The next day it was the tournament in the name of Eddard Stark. Though the man didn’t attend. You sat next to the oldest Baratheon boy. Tommen was inpatient so as your father. Lady Sansa smiled at your brother but he looked away, avoiding her completely.

“Is it so hard to be nice at your lady?”

“Shut up.” You return the smile to her. She was half disappointed it wasn’t Joffrey and half happy you did notice her.

“Start the damn joust before I pissed myself!” And the opponents made their appearance. Ready to begin.

#sansa stark x reader #sansa x reader #game of thrones shot #game of thrones fic #got #baratheon reader #sansa x fem baratheon reader

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first-of-her-nxme · 3 years

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It looks like one of my answers doesn’t show up in the tags so I’ll copy it here, just in case. It might be interesting for the asoiaf fans, Jaqen’s and Arya’s fans in particular;)

So, the question I received was:

Where is the coherent foreshadowing for Jaqen and Arya? It all seems taken out of fucking nowhere

And here we go:

It starts in the very first book when Arya names her direwolf after the queen who married a Dornishman, and it never stops because Arya and Jaqen are repeating Lyanna’s and Rhaegar’s story. Of course, in ASOIAF, the story is never exactly the same. Which by the way gives me hope that at least they will have their happy ending. Or the closest thing to a happy ending, which in George Martin’s world means less heartbreaking than the others’s endings;d

Trouble with Jaqarya foreshadowing is that George Martin started writing the story with a five year gap in mind between Arya’s arrival in Braavos and A Dance with Dragons. So, when he first envisioned the story he already had a 15 year old Arya in mind. It means that Arya and Jaqen would have reunited in A Dance with Dragons already and she would have been old enough for a romance. It also means that Jaqen’s identity would have been revealed in A Dance with Dragons.

But, since GRRM abandoned the idea, we have to wait for the reveal till The Winds of Winter. As a consequence the whole build-up is made of hints, symbols, clues, metaphors, parallels to R/L and so on. Nothing is said explicitly because it would ruin the big reveal of who Jaqen is and what’s ahead of them.

So, from the top:

1. Arya names her direwolf after Nymeria, a queen who found home far from her own country and who married a Dornishman. Jaqen is half Dornish, he is Elia’s and Rhaegar’s son, Aegon VI. I already pinned the answer about his true identity to my profile so please read it if you need further explanation.

Thanks to the Game of Thrones finale we know that Arya will sail across the sunset sea. I searched through the books after s8 and of course I found information that they both, J&A, will leave. I guess I need to thank D&D for Arya’s ending, otherwise I would have overlooked the clues completely.

So, either they will find home far away, somewhere in the sea, or in Braavos or in Dorne or they will return to Jaqen’s castle ( the Red Keep or Dragonstone ). Wherever they will stay, it’s going to be far from Arya’s birth place, Winterfell.

2. Nymeria has golden eyes, Arya thinks that they shine like golden coins - it’s another connection to Jaqen ( Aegon ) who switches his iron coin for a golden dragon in A Feast for Crows. The coin is poisoned and kills Pate but it’s also a symbol of courtship. Pate needed it to claim his beloved Rosey.

3. On the way to King’s Landing, Arya is picking up flowers in the Neck, perhaps in the same area where the flowers for Lyanna’s crown had been picked. Ned is deeply moved when he sees Arya with the flowers because she reminds him of Lya. The flowers are purple - purple is the symbol of royal birth, of the rightful heir to the throne whom Jaqen ( Aegon ) is. They are called poisoned kisses and burn Arya’s hands - Jaqen is using poisons and represents fire. He is a Targ, a future dragon rider. Arya will also burn her hands and lips in the House of Black and White while learning to make poisons.”Poisoned kisses” is a bad name, it implies doomed love which reminds us of R/L. For Arya it means a love for the murderer. Hopefully with a happier ending than Lya’s love.

4. Ned tells Arya that she will marry a king and rule his castle and they will have sons. Like I said before, Jaqen is the rightful king. In A Clash of Kings, Arya even reveals his identity though it is very cleverly concealed in the scene when she gives him his own name. To be brief: it's a play on words; he asks her if the name of the king she wants dead is Joffrey and she answers the name ( of the king ) is Jaqen H’ghar. So Joffrey is not the king, he’s impostor, the true king is Jaqen.

5. In King’s Landing, Arya has dreams of Rhaenys though she doesn’t realize it. She also catches Rhaenys’s cat, her “little dragon”, and kisses its forehead. In Harrenhal, Jaqen kisses her forehead as if to return the kiss;)

6. Arya ruins Sansa’s silk dress and offers to make her a new one. Sansa tells her she could make a dress good enough only to clean the pigsty.

That pigsty is kind of a big deal.

In fairytales, princes disguise themselves as swineherds to hide their true identity, like in H.C Andersen’s story “The Swineherd”.

George Martin used this motif in his books too. In AFFC Jaqen wears the face of Pate “the Pig Boy”. Arya, on the other hand, lives in Braavos in his house, makes dresses and sweeps the floors. She lives in the Pig Boy’s house, in the pigsty, and cleans it - just like Sansa has said. Only the pigsty is the prince’s house like Ned has foretold.

7. In Harrenhal, Jaqen wakes Arya from her wolf dream and kisses her. This motif comes from the Sleeping Beauty fairytale - only the prince can awake the sleeping beauty.

8. Also in Harrenhal, Jaqen and Arya make their “weasel soup”. They pour hot broth on the guards to free the Northmen. Jaqen gives Arya a pair of padded gloves and he is wearing the identical gloves himself, while they struggle the pot of soup between them - it’s a metaphor for sharing power. Gloves are symbol of power and noble birth.

The cooking pot is another motif borrowed from “The Swineherd” - the prince has a magic pot that plays a song. Jaqen ( Aegon ) has a song too, a song of Ice and Fire.

9. Jaqen gives Arya his coin ( we already know it’s a symbol of courtship ) and she pays with it for a passage across the narrow sea. She crosses the sea to get to the House of Black and White, the house of darkness.

In Greek mythology, the souls of dead people pay with a coin to cross the river and get to the Underworld. Arya, like Persephone, is first shown while picking up flowers and then she descends into the Underworld seduced by GRRM’s version of Hades. Hades has a three-headed dog, Jaqen has a prophecy ( and the coin ) of a three-headed dragon.

10. When Arya meets the Ghost of High Heart, the witch compares her to Jenny, a girl with flowers in her hair who fell in love with a Targaryen prince.

11. In ASOS, Arya listens to Tom Sevenstrings playing My Featherbed song. The song was written by Rhaegar for Lyanna. It tells the story of Jenny and Duncan Targaryen but Rhaegar concealed his own feelings for Lya in the text. The lyrics refer to Arya and Jaqen as well - they repeat J/D and R/L story of a Targaryen prince and a girl from the North.

Of course Rhaegar didn’t know about his son and Lya’s niece when he wrote the song:))

The song is not about Gendrya, like people think. I already mentioned it in one of my answers. It’s very important because it helps to understand what had happened in Harrenhal and what will happen to Arya and Jaqen.

Arya hears My Featherbed after Gendry invited her to the smithy. He knocked her over and they wrestled. Her dress was torn and she looked as if someone had tried to hurt her. Right after Tom plays Rhaegar’s song. Gendry obviously didn’t want to hurt Arya but that scene explains what Robert did in Harrenhal after Rhaegar left - he was furious that Rhaegar crowned Lya so he demanded “his rights”. That’s why Lyanna ran off. Rhaegar was her rescue.

12. In the House of Black and White Arya sleeps under the red blanket which reminds her of her favorite blanket from Winterfell. I’m sure it’s Jaqen’s blanket, and perhaps his bed too, because red is his color: red hair, red poison, red war, red god, red comet over Harrenhal, red dragon (?) - red accompanies him throughout his journey. Of course black is his color too, it’s the color of the Stranger. Red and black are the colors of House...

13. In Arya’s Braavosi chapters GRRM concealed the story of the beginning of Rhaegar’s and Lyanna’s love in Harrenhal. But that’s a massive story to tell so I will write a separate post about it.

14. Finally, in Mercy chapter Arya hears the story of the first Black Pearl of Braavos, the pirate queen, and her affair with King Aegon IV. She sighs wistfully and says that she would love to see a dragon too. Dragon here means more than an animal, GRRM once again hints at her future romance with the Dragon.

15. “Mercy” chapter parallels the prologue to A Feast for Crows. Originally it was meant to be in AFFC but GRRM eventually moved it to TWOW.

Perhaps GRRM wanted Jaqen’s chapter to start AFFC and Arya’s chapter to end the book. The prologue is a chapter with two main motifs: dragons and love. “Mercy” is a chapter of revenge and love for a dragon. The prologue starts at night when Pate’s beloved is sleeping naked in her room. “Mercy” starts at dawn when Arya wakes up naked in her room and sees a dragon boat passing beneath her window.

But those two chapters are so rich in parallels that they deserve a separate post as well:)

16. While Jaqen and Arya are having their adventures in Oldtown and Braavos respectively, in the North Mance is infiltrating Winterfell. Mance is posing as a bard. He sings a song of a Dornishman’s wife in turn with the Northman’s daughter. It’s another delightful hint that the Northman’s daughter, Ned’s daughter is ( well, will be ) the Dornishman’s wife.

As you can see it’s a pretty massive foreshadowing. I probably still omitted something because there are really tons of those clues.

I hope you’ve enjoyed the read.

Thanks for the ask :)

#Jaqen H'ghar #Arya Stark #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #jaqen h'ghar is aegon targaryen

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chispas-and-broken-bindings · 4 years

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A Preview...

Someone requested a fix for their birthday...I don’t have the next chapter for I Just Think I’ll Scream quite ready for prime time, but here’s a sneak peak:

Ch 20 Sansa

Robb and Ned were up and away before Sansa emerged from her shower in the morning. The house is chaos as Catelyn tries to wrangle the remaining Starks out the door. "Sansa, stop feeding Shaggydog scraps from the table and get dressed! Bran, there are two boxes of gourds by the back door that need to be brought to the store for the window display. Be a dear and put them in the car. And where are Arya and Rickon?"

Sansa skips up the stairs before she's pulled into the hunt, almost knocking into her younger sister as she slides down the bannister. "One of these days that's going to break."

"Whatever, killjoy."

"Mom is looking for you, but you better change. We are supposed to wear floral for the Women's Club Bake Sale. It's themed and Cersei Lannister is going to be there, so we have to be on our best behavior." Her little sister is wearing their dad's old Falcon's sweatshirt and ripped up jeans, looking for all the world like she's about to spend the day painting a house or cleaning out a garage, and not hobnobbing with their mother's friends and clients.

"I'm not working the bake sale. I'm selling tickets to the haunted fun house with Mycah."

"Says who?"

Before Arya can respond, Catelyn is at the bottom of the stairs. "Me. You know that it'll be better for everyone if Arya isn't cooped up all day in a tent with the Women's Club ladies. Help me get through the midday rush, Sansa, and you can slip away and spend the afternoon with Harry if you'd like."

"Gods, Mom! They broke up weeks ago! Catch up!" Arya yells as the back door slams behind her and Sansa is alone, staring down the steps at her mother whose face has fallen into a look of concern.

"Oh, Sansa, dear. Why didn't you tell me?"

She sighs, "It's fine, Mom. Like Arya said, it happened weeks ago, and it was just a high school fling. They aren't meant to last." She turns back up the stairs, not waiting to see if her brush off was convincing. She dresses in the dark maxi dress waiting on her hook, with its long flowy sleeves and pattern of intricate woodland flowers. Usually, she feels like Florence Welch in it. Today though, as she inspects herself before the mirror, it's coming off less stylishly bohemian and more dowdy Victorian with the small ruffles along the high collar and shoulders. Ygritte would never wear something like this, a small ugly voice whispers.

Just as she's about to dive back into her closet, Bran yells up the stairs, "We're going to leave without you, Sansa," and it makes her choice for her. It's fine. She'll just hide in a corner of the tent with Old Nan and sneak lemon cakes all day. No one has to see her. So what if the band is playing this afternoon? It's not like any of them care if she watches their show, and she's basically heard the whole set already in rehearsals. It's not like Robb told everybody at school about it. It's not like she promised to get there early and save a spot up front with Marge and Jeyne.

Ygritte will probably be there to watch Jon. Best to skip...at least until she gets over her absurd crush.

"Sansa! Mom is literally starting the engine!" Bran yells again.

"Coming!" The best she can do is throw on sunglasses and a wide-brimmed fedora and hope no one recognizes her. Outside, Arya is still arguing with Rickon about buckling his car seat and Cat is on her phone, pacing up the driveway while Bran sits on the back step, whistling the march from Bridge Over the River Kwai. "Liar," Sansa flicks off his baseball cap. "We're nowhere near about to leave."

"She was starting the engine before her phone rang."

When they finally find a parking spot, it's apparent to everyone that they would have been better off leaving the car at home and walking. Though the festival hasn't officially started yet, the main street is closed off, and the big parking lot has been covered in carnival rides overnight. Arya peels off from their group when Mycah gives her a holler from on top of the Ferris wheel, leaving Bran and Sansa to lug the several boxes filled with decorative gourds to the hardware store, while their mom takes Rickon and their contributions to the bake sale in the opposite direction.

Outside the store entrance, Benjen is struggling with his pop-up tent, which keeps leaning to one side in the wind, while Meera watches him from the front step. "This is your fault, Sansa! Making me set up a stand, like I'm some lady selling doilies at a craft fair," He curses when the whole thing folds up on top of him.

"Good morning to you too, Uncle Ben," she rolls her eyes. "Where is Robb? He can get you bags of sand to anchor the tent. And don't knock doilies. There are entire rooms at the Met devoted to Myrish Lace alone. You can poke fun at craft fairs once even one of your pieces is on display at a similarly storied institution. Until then, you better get comfortable setting up this tent because I have three holiday craft markets lined up for you this season."

"You're just supposed to be sprucing up my website, not taking over the business! And don't get me started on your brother. I haven't had my morning caffeine fix yet because he disappeared on a coffee run ages ago. How long does it take to pour a bloody cup of coffee? If Jon Snow is holding up my joe with some pumpkin spice, whipped cream nonsense-"

On cue, Mr. paparazzo himself, appears in the doorway and before Sansa can land on an emotion, he's lifting the box from her arms with a gruff "G'morning Sansa," and then he's back in the shop, leaving her empty-handed and a bit empty-headed.

"He looks like he needs caffeine more than you," she remarks at last, meeting eyes with her uncle.

Meera sniggers. "You think? He looks like he spent the night sleeping under a car." Sansa wouldn't go that far, but it was hard to miss the circles under his eyes or how pale and papery his skin looked in the cold morning light.

"Give the kid a break. They played their first show last night, didn't they? If he's a bit wrung out this morning, that just means he's doing it right." Benjen jumps to Jon's defense.

"Well then, he's been doing it right every weekend. He's looked like this every morning since he started at the store," Meera says, heading back inside to supervise since Robb is still M.I.A. Sansa thinks about Ygritte's Instagram feed with its late night cigarettes and coffee at the diner and regular parties in what looks like someone's grungy basement. So, Jon works hard and plays hard. It's not entirely shocking. It niggles at her though; how tired he looks and how he doesn't talk about partying when he's at Winterfell. Her other friends are always eager to share their weekend escapades, but when Sansa asked how his party went when his Mom was out of town, Jon just gave her a noncommittal shrug and told her it was fine.

That's because you aren't really friends. She turns, more than ready to join her mom at the bake sale, when Robb comes skipping across the street with a drink carrier in hand. "Sansa! Just the girl I'm looking for." Her brother is as chipper as ever, seemingly inured to whatever effects from last night's show have taken the wind from Jon Snow's sails. "Can you help with the window display? Mom told me to spiff it up for the festival, but you've got a better eye for that kind of thing."

"Oh, sure. Skip out of work for an hour to flirt with some barista and then come back at the last minute to coerce your sister into doing your job?" Benjen barks and Robb's face turns scarlet.

"I… uh, what? No… I wasn't flirting…"

"Aren't you doing the same thing to me, Uncle Ben?" Sansa retorts, saving her brother from his bumbling. She makes a note to stop by the coffee shop and find out who this barista is. Uncle Benjen may be onto something. "Come on Robb, give Uncle Benji his coffee and I'll spare a few minutes for a consultation."

Inside, Bran and Meera are balancing tiny pumpkins on their heads as they wind through the aisles, trying to trip each other up. Jon Snow is leaning against the paint counter, looking ragged. She fights the urge to ask him if he's okay, opting instead to tip over Bran's pumpkin and herd him over to the window display. "Here, help me before Mom walks by and turns Robb into the headless horseman." They distribute the gourds in artfully artless piles throughout the window, as Jon and Robb hang a paint chip mobile over their heads; the autumnal pièce de résistance that Sansa spent hours making last year.

"Sans, I wish you could have been there last night. It was amazing," Robb excitedly recounts the band's show, "Jon was on fire, and apparently some promoters from White Harbor were there and Satin thinks he can book us some shows at North State! Isn't that great?"

"Yeah, though, won't that be hard with swimming?" She doesn't want to rain on Robb's parade, but maybe Arya is right. She is a killjoy.

"I have a meet in White Harbor next month. Maybe we can book a few gigs around it. What do you think, Jon? You up for a weekend road trip?"

"Uh.." Jon scratches at his neck, blearily. "I mean, that's a long drive to do late at night."

"Don't worry, we'll get a hotel for the weekend!"

"I don't know-"

The bell jingles at the door, and before Meera can scramble off the counter where she's been reading a comic, Catelyn is inside, gazing around the space, looking deeply unimpressed.

"Mom, uh, we were just finishing up with the decorations." Robb wobbles on the ladder in terror, unable to hook the last end of the mobile in place, and Bran ducks behind a pile of pumpkins, trying to hide his glee.

"Robb, you should have opened the store fifteen minutes ago. How are you just now finishing the decorations?"

“Well, the gourds only just arrived-” Robb starts, lamely.

“Never mind,” their mom sweeps through the space, picking up the boxes still out from stocking, tidying the candy by the register, before turning one last critical eye on her teenage employees. Jon cups his neck as he holds the ladder with his other hand. Robb scrambles down, having finally managed to hang the mobile correctly, rushing forward to grab the empty boxes from his mother. “Cersei Lannister is going to be here any minute. Get this garbage to the back. Meera, flip the sign and Jon, take the ladder back and...splash some water on your face or something. You look like death, warmed over. Jory is coming around ten, if you need to take the afternoon off.”

Jon’s ears turn pink as he folds up the ladder beside Sansa, and she looks out the window, mortified. “Sorry Mrs. Stark, but that’s not necessary” he begins, but Catelyn is already walking back to the office with a tired wave.

“I said it was a lot of hours you were taking on between school, the lumberyard and this. Just make sure you are fitting sleep in or you’ll make yourself sick, dear.”

#i just think i'll scream #jonsa fic #jon x sansa au #for k #happy birthday #wip excerpt

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agentrouka-blog · 4 years

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ASOIAF - Dany and the persimmons of doom

The persimmon is mentioned 13 times, 12 times in Dany chapters.

What’s a Persimmon?

The word Diospyros comes from the ancient Greek words "dios" (δῐος) and "pyron" (πῡρον). A popular etymology construed this as "divine fruit", or as meaning "wheat of Zeus" or "God's pear" and "Jove's fire". The dio-, as shown by the short vowel 'i', has nothing to do with 'divine' (δῑoς ), dio- being an affix attached to plant names, and in classical Greek the compound referred to "the fruit of the nettle tree".

The word persimmon itself is derived from putchamin, pasiminan, or pessamin, from Powhatan, an Algonquian language of the eastern United States, meaning "a dry fruit".

The name was misconstrued to mean something a lot more elevated, something divine, olympian, fiery and impressive, when it really is a lot more basic than that.

Kind of loving where this is headed already.

(Long, because many quotes.)

The first and only persimmon mention outside of a Dany chapter is in AGOT, Eddard V. It’s contained in a list of offered refreshments by Pycelle, while Ned has gone to him to inquire about Jon Arryn’s death.

"Lord Arryn's death was a great sadness for all of us, my lord," Grand Maester Pycelle said. "I would be more than happy to tell you what I can of the manner of his passing. Do be seated. Would you care for refreshments? Some dates, perhaps? I have some very fine persimmons as well. Wine no longer agrees with my digestion, I fear, but I can offer you a cup of iced milk, sweetened with honey. I find it most refreshing in this heat."

(AGOT, Eddard V)

Things in a list are, in my opinion, very often symbolically loaded.

Dates. Persimmons. Milk sweetened with honey.

Dates, counting just the actual fruit, are also most heavily associated with Dany (7 mentions) and to a lesser degree Tyrion (3 mentions) and Arys Oakheart and Arianne (1 each). Also, Dorne in general.

Milk with honey, which is what Ned ends up choosing, as a combination is associated with Brienne, Jaime and the Riverland mess, oddly enough, and, sweetened milk in general also with the suppression of Sweetrobin (sweetsleep). I’m sticking to the persimmon for now.

So, what are persimmons about for Dany?

The first mention occurs in Qarth, close to the beginning of Daenerys III.

Descendants of the ancient kings and queens of Qarth, the Pureborn commanded the Civic Guard and the fleet of ornate galleys that ruled the straits between the seas. Daenerys Targaryen had wanted that fleet, or part of it, and some of their soldiers as well. She made the traditional sacrifice in the Temple of Memory, offered the traditional bribe to the Keeper of the Long List, sent the traditional persimmon to the Opener of the Door, and finally received the traditional blue silk slippers summoning her to the Hall of a Thousand Thrones.

(ACOK, Daenerys III)

Another list. Hmm...

A sacrifice in the Temple of Memory... (If I look back, I am lost. What was Hazzea’s name again?)

A bribe to the Keeper of the Long List. (Keeper of lists... Arya keeps a kill list. Other list keepers might be the maesters at the Citadel for marriages births and deaths. There are two specifically mentioned “long lists”, Pycelle’s list of people who should swear fealty to Joffrey, and Hizdahr’s list of Dany’s enemies after smashing the slave trade.)

A persimmon to the Opener of Doors. (The red door likely foreshadows her Burning of King’s Landing, which is what I think this refers to. Elsewise, Jon significantly opened the gates of the Wall for the wildlings to march through. Jon, and Dany both open doors in significant dreams or visions.)

Then she receives the blue silk slippers and is summoned to the Hall of a Thousand Thrones. (Blue silk is heavily associated with Sansa, where it’s associated with catastrophe, violence, betrayal and defeat. To a lesser degree same for Brienne and Cersei. And the blue bard. This is not a happy fabric.)

But anyway, so the persimmon is associated with the Opening Of The Door. And what else?

The Pureborn reject Dany’s offerings and do not give her a fleet. She grumbles. She contemplates returning to Vaes Tolorro and making a home there but rejects the idea. Xaro asks her to marry him. A lot. Quaithe says reaches out to her again and gives her the “To go North you must go south etc” prophecy. She decides to go see the HOTU. (Destruction will follow.)

So, persimmon -> rejecting non-conquering path. And Quaithe egging her on.

Next Mention, still in Qarth. The persimmon opens the chapter.

She was breaking her fast on a bowl of cold shrimp-and-persimmon soup when Irri brought her a Qartheen gown, an airy confection of ivory samite patterned with seed pearls. "Take it away," Dany said. "The docks are no place for lady's finery."

If the Milk Men thought her such a savage, she would dress the part for them. When she went to the stables, she wore faded sandsilk pants and woven grass sandals.

(ACOK, Daenerys V)

She consumes persimmon, and returns to her Dothraki garb, rejects Xaro’s proposal of marriage, finds herself unloved by the smallfolk of Qarth and pressured to leave.

They know who I am, and they do not love me. Dany could tell from the way they looked at her.

Xaro refuses to help her get a fleet. She contemplates the visons in the HOTU. We get a book series title drop.

“I remember,” Dany said sadly. “They murdered Rhaegar’s daughter as well, the Little princess. Rhaenys, she was named, like Aegon’s sister. There was no Visenya, but he said the dragon has three heads. What is the song of ice and fire?”

“It’s no song I’ve ever heard.”

Dany wanders the docks and meets Barristan Selmy and Strong Belwas, who save her from a poison assassination attempt by the Sorrowful Men. Selmy and Belwas were sent by Magister Illyrio along with three ships. She accepts them, and renames them for the three conquering dragons Vhagar, Meraxes, Balerion.

So, all in all we are on theme here with Dany embracing her inner dragon and rejecting alternative options of making a home. Aegon the Conquerer with Teats it is. Thank you, persimmon.

Next up, A Storm of Swords. Dany goes Unsullied-shopping in Astapor. The persimmon is at the beginning of the chapter.

“Your ears heard true,” said Dany. “I want to buy them all. Tell the Good Masters, if you will.”

She had chosen a Qartheen gown today. The deep violet silk brought out the purple of her eyes. The cut of it bared her left breast. While the Good Masters of Astapor conferred among themselves in low voices, Dany sipped tart persimmon wine from a tall silver flute. She could not quite make out all that they were saying, but she could hear the greed.

(...)

Dany let them argue, sipping the tart persimmon wine and trying to keep her face blank and ignorant. I will have them all, no matter the price, she told herself. The city had a hundred slave traders, but the eight before her were the greatest. When selling bed slaves, fieldhands, scribes, craftsmen, and tutors, these men were rivals, but their ancestors had allied one with the other for the purpose of making and selling the Unsullied. Brick and blood built Astapor, and brick and blood her people.

(…)

Two thousand would never serve for what she meant to do. I must have them all. Dany knew what she must do now, though the taste of it was so bitter that even the persimmon wine could not cleanse it from her mouth. She had considered long and hard and found no other way. It is my only choice. "Give me all," she said, "and you may have a dragon."

(…)

“Missandei is no longer a slave. I free you, from this instant. Come ride with me in the litter, I wish to talk.” Rakharo helped them in, and Dany drew the curtains shut against the dust and heat. “If you stay with me you will serve as one of my handmaids,” she said as they set off. “I shall keep you by my side to speak for me as you spoke for Kraznys. But you may leave my service whenever you choose, if you have father or mother you would sooner return to.” “This one will stay,” the girl said. “This one … I … there is no place for me to go. This … I will serve you, gladly.”

(ASOS, Daenerys III)

Persimmon & “buy them all, have them all, give me all” on triple display. Gee, I wonder if we will have another dragon escalation coming up?

Also, Dany’s special brand of slave liberation is in full swing. You are free to leave - with no alternatives provided for you. Or stay and serve as my “handmaid”. Ask Irri what that means.

The night before the transaction, she dreams she is Rhaegar on dragonback, bathing her enemies in dragonfire. A good dream, for Dany. She gets a visit from Quaithe. The next day, she dresses in Dothraki garb again. Fire and Blood.

“Unsullied!” Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. “Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see.” She raised the harpy’s fingers in the air … and then she flung the scourge aside. “Freedom!” she sang out. “Dracarys! Dracarys!” “Dracarys!” they shouted back, the sweetest word she’d ever heard. “Dracarys! Dracarys!” And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire.

It would appear that the persimmons signal the proximity of a dragon escalation. Persimmons always appear at the beginning of a chapter where Dany chooses Dothraki garb and dragonfire.

Does it hold up?

A newly conquered Meereen has the next persimmon mention right at the top of the chapter:

Dany broke her fast under the persimmon tree that grew in the terrace garden, watching her dragons chase each other about the apex of the Great Pyramid where the huge bronze harpy once stood. Meereen had a score of lesser pyramids, but none stood even half as tall. From here she could see the whole city:

(…)

And beyond the walls was the pewter sea, the winding Skahazadhan, the dry brown hills, burnt orchards, and blackened fields. Up here in her garden Dany sometimes felt like a god, living atop the highest mountain in the world.

(…)

All my victories turn to dross in my hands, she thought. Whatever I do, all I make is death and horror.

(…)

“My city,” said Dany. “I was looking for a house with a red door, but by night all the doors are black.”

“A red door?” Missandei was puzzled. “What house is this?” “No house. It does not matter.” Dany took the younger girl by the hand. “Never lie to me, Missandei. Never betray me.”

"I never would," Missandei promised. "Look, dawn comes."

(…)

On the terrace, a few flies stirred sluggishly. A bird began to chirp in the persimmon tree, and then two more. Dany cocked her head to hear their song, but it was not long before the sounds of the waking city drowned them out.

The sounds of my city.

(…)

“What will you do then, Khaleesi?” asked Rakharo. “Stay,” she said. “Rule. And be a queen.”

(ASOS, Daenerys VI)

After the first persimmon mention, she reflects on the conquest of Meereen in a terrible, savage sack. (Incidentally, using the same kinds of weapons to attack their gate as Jon defends against the Wildling attack on the Wall, specifically the “turtle” and ram. Jon/Dany romantic foreshadowing, surely.)

Persimmon -> Dragon and dothraki. Yes, it holds up.

But there is a second persimmon mention. Persimmons in the middle of a chapter tend to signal a rejection of the dragon path.

After a series of bad news from Astapor and beyond, making her question the success of her actions, she decides to change her plans. The birds draw her attention to the persimmon tree of dragon escalation BUT the sounds of her city drown them out. She turns away from the siren call. She decides to try and responsibly deal with actual ruling.

So far, so on theme. Will the persimmons make a comeback when Dany re-dragons? Yes. Yes, they will.

ADWD gives us more persimmons. Many more.

Daenerys II. Middle-chapter persimmon -> Dragon rejection.

She is unrestful. The Sons of the Harpy killed Missandei’s brother, and many more. She agrees to have a suspect’s young daughter tortured to get answers. She grows very tired of ruling. She struggles to comfort Missandei who asserts Dany’s Mhysa identity. But Dany is lonely and longs to be loved, longs for Daario. She takes a bath and, hello, Quaithe!

A woman stood under the persimmon tree, clad in a hooded robe that brushed the grass. Beneath the hood, her face seemed hard and shiny. She is wearing a mask, Dany knew, a wooden mask finished in dark red lacquer. "Quaithe? Am I dreaming?" She pinched her ear and winced at the pain. "I dreamt of you on Balerion, when first we came to Astapor."

(…)

“Daenerys. Remember the Undying. Remember who you are.” “The blood of the dragon.” But my dragons are roaring in the darkness. “I remember the Undying. Child of three, they called me. Three mounts they promised me, three fires, and three treasons. One for blood and one for gold and one for …”

"Your Grace?" Missandei stood in the door of the queen's bedchamber, a lantern in her hand. "Who are you talking to?"

Dany glanced back toward the persimmon tree. There was no woman there. No hooded robe, no lacquer mask, no Quaithe.

A shadow. A memory. No one. She was the blood of the dragon, but Ser Barristan had warned her that in that blood there was a taint. Could I be going mad? They had called her father mad, once. "I was praying," she told the Naathi girl. "It will be light soon. I had best eat something, before court."

(…)

If I look back, I am doomed, Dany told herself … but how could she not look back? I should have seen it coming. Was I so blind, or did I close my eyes willfully, so I would not have to see the price of power?

(…)

I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I.

(ADWD, Daenerys II)

Dany is chaving under the pressures of ruling, already resorting back to cruelty, and under the persimmon tree, Quaithe beckons and tries to lure her back down the dragon path. Dany hesitates. She considers Hizdahr’s 7th proposal to open the fighting pits and questions Ser Barristan on his escape from Joffrey. She visits her dragons and questions herself, harshly.

This chapter is one big hope spot before it all goes to ashes.

Daenerys III. Closer to the beginning of the chapter, but not quite up there. -> less enthusiastic dragon rejection.

A banquet to honor the visit of Xaro from Qarth. Sensual dancing. Food and trade on the forefront of Dany’s mind, longing for Daaaaario in the background.

Daenerys held out her cup for Irri to refill. The wine was sweet and strong, redolent with the smell of eastern spices, much superior to the thin Ghiscari wines that had filled her cup of late. Xaro perused the fruits on the platter Jhiqui offered him and chose a persimmon. Its orange skin matched the color of the coral in his nose. He took a bite and pursed his lips. "Tart."

"Would my lord prefer something sweeter?"

“Sweetness cloys. Tart fruit and tart women give life its savor.” Xaro took another bite, chewed, swallowed. “Daenerys, sweet queen, I cannot tell you what pleasure it gives me to bask once more in your presence. A child departed Qarth, as lost as she was lovely. I feared she was sailing to her doom, yet now I find her here enthroned, mistress of an ancient city, surrounded by a mighty host that she raised up out of dreams.” No, she thought, out of blood and fire.

(ADWD, Daenerys III)

Tart v. sweet. Right now, a sweet queen? The persimmons beckon. She and Xaro philosophize on the relative merits of slavery. He would buy olives, she has to wait seven years for the newly planted trees to bear fruit. She hears of all the alliances made against her. Then he offers her a fleet to leave Slaver’s Bay and go home. Selmy likes the idea. Dany is sorely tempted, but the swirling rumors cause her court to question her and she lets go of the plans. She rejects Xaro’s tart persimmon-flavored offer of sailing off to conquer elsewhere. Xaro regrets not having killed her in Qarth. They part on bad Terms, she receives declaration of war the next morning.

Daenerys IX. The persimmon’s open the chapter. Uh oh.

The sky was a merciless blue, without a wisp of cloud in sight. The bricks will soon be baking in the sun, thought Dany. Down on the sands, the fighters will feel the heat through the soles of their sandals.

Jhiqui slipped Dany's silk robe from her shoulders and Irri helped her into her bathing pool. The light of the rising sun shimmered on the water, broken by the shadow of the persimmon tree. "Even if the pits must open, must Your Grace go yourself?" asked Missandei as she was washing the queen's hair.

(...)

My handmaids are Dothraki, she told herself. Death rides with every khalasar. The day she wed Khal Drogo, the arakhs had flashed at her wedding feast, and men had died whilst others drank and mated. Life and death went hand in hand amongst the horselords, and a sprinkling of blood was thought to bless a marriage. Her new marriage would soon be drenched in blood. How blessed it would be.

(…)

He is fire made flesh, she thought, and so am I. Daenerys Targaryen vaulted onto the dragon’s back, seized the spear, and ripped it out. The point was half-melted, the iron red-hot, glowing. She flung it aside. Drogon twisted under her, his muscles rippling as he gathered his strength. The air was thick with sand. Dany could not see, she could not breathe, she could not think. The black wings cracked like thunder, and suddenly the scarlet sands were falling away beneath her. Dizzy, Dany closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she glimpsed the Meereenese beneath her through a haze of tears and dust, pouring up the steps and out into the streets. The lash was still in her hand. She flicked it against Drogon’s neck and cried, “Higher!” Her other hand clutched at his scales, her fingers scrabbling for purchase. Drogon’s wide black wings beat the air. Dany could feel the heat of him between her thighs. Her heart felt as if it were about to burst. Yes, she thought, yes, now, now, do it, do it, take me, take me, FLY!

(ADWD, Daenerys IX)

Well. I’d say the pattern fits. Persimmon tree shadow breaks the image of a new dawn on the water, dothraki references, FIRE AND BLOOD.

And her final ADWD chapter?

Daenerys X. Persimmon joins us close to the beginning of the chapter, but not quite at the top. But Dany makes up for that with enthusiasm.

Hers had been a lonely sojourn, and for most of it she had been hurt and hungry … yet despite it all she had been strangely happy here. A few aches, an empty belly, chills by night … what does it matter when you can fly? I would do it all again.

Jhiqui and Irri would be waiting atop her pyramid back in Meereen, she told herself. Her sweet scribe Missandei as well, and all her little pages. They would bring her food, and she could bathe in the pool beneath the persimmon tree. It would be good to feel clean again. Dany did not need a glass to know that she was filthy.

She was hungry too. One morning she had found some wild onions growing halfway down the south slope, and later that same day a leafy reddish vegetable that might have been some queer sort of cabbage. Whatever it was, it had not made her sick. Aside from that, and one fish that she had caught in the spring-fed pool outside of Drogon's cave, she had survived as best she could on the dragon's leavings, on burned bones and chunks of smoking meat, half-charred and half-raw. She needed more, she knew. One day she kicked at a cracked sheep's skull with the side of a bare foot and sent it bouncing over the edge of the hill. And as she watched it tumble down the steep slope toward the sea of grass, she realized she must follow.

Dany set off through the tall grass at a brisk pace. The earth felt warm between her toes. The grass was as tall as she was. It never seemed so high when I was mounted on my silver, riding beside my sun-and-stars at the head of his khalasar. As she walked, she tapped her thigh with the pitmaster’s whip. That, and the rags on her back, were all she had taken from Meereen.

(…)

Below, she saw men whirling, wreathed in flame, hands up in the air as if caught in the throes of some mad dance. A woman in a green tokar reached for a weeping child, pulling him down into her arms to shield him from the flames. Dany saw the color vividly, but not the woman’s face. People were stepping on her as they lay tangled on the bricks. Some were on fire. Then all of that had faded, the sounds dwindling, the people shrinking, the spears and arrows falling back beneath them as Drogon clawed his way into the sky. Up and up and up he’d borne her, high above the pyramids and pits, his wings outstretched to catch the warm air rising from the city’s sun baked bricks. If I fall and die, it will still have been worth it, she had thought.

(…)

No, Dany told herself. If I look back I am lost. She might live for years amongst the sunbaked rocks of Dragonstone, riding Drogon by day and gnawing at his leavings every evenfall as the great grass sea turned from gold to orange, but that was not the life she had been born to.

(…)

“Quaithe?” Dany called. “Where are you, Quaithe?” Then she saw. Her mask is made of starlight. “Remember who you are, Daenerys,” the stars whispered in a woman’s voice. “The dragons know. Do you?”

(…)

“Drogon killed a little girl. Her name was … her name …” Dany could not recall the child’s name. That made her so sad that she would have cried if all her tears had not been burned away.

(…)

Never, said the grass, in the gruff tones of Jorah Mormont. You were warned, Your Grace. Let this city be, I said. Your war is in Westeros, I told you.

(…)

As the western sky turned the color of a blood bruise, she heard the sound of approaching horses. Dany rose, wiped her hands on her ragged undertunic, and went to stand beside her dragon. That was how Khal Jhaqo found her, when half a hundred mounted warriors emerged from the drifting smoke.

(ADWD, Daenerys X)

She WANTS the persimmon tree. There is the Dothraki environment. She WANTS Quaithe. She starts acting like a literal dragon, nesting, eating Drogon’s leavings, wanders the grasslands half-crazed, suffery dysentery, miscarries (Mhysa v. Mother of Dragons) and makes her sacrifice to the Temple of Memory (Hazzea), which was the first step to the Hall of Thousand Thrones in Qarth.

Next up, a bribe to the Keeper of the Long List, persimmon to the Opener of (Red) Doors and then it’s Hello, Blue Silk Slippers of (stabbing) Doom in the Hall of Thousand Thrones.

Considering how consistent the theme of the persimmon is, I’m kind of excited about it seeing how GRRM will use it in TWOW and ADOS.

Next up I think I’ll look at the context of dates, and milk with honey, just to find out why GRRM chose to have Ned reject the persimmons and dates and did let him choose the milk and honey, in that very first mention. Iced milk and honey.

#asoiaf #daenerys targaryen #persimmon #foreshadowing #fruit symbolism

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alicenttully · 3 years

Text

Lesser Beasts

Notes: Trident Scene rewritten from Cersei perspective

It took them three days to find the Stark brat.

If Cersei was not so infuriated over what that thing did to her son, she might have found Arya Stark’s behaviour a little amusing. Running off like that – was she not meant to be the daughter of the Hand, and sister to the future queen? Perhaps the girl’s wildness was simply evidence that Lord Eddard let his scrawny daughter do as she pleased.

Scrawny, indeed. Cersei feels her jaw slightly clench as her eyes fix upon the girl. Her long face is splotchy and her eyes are red. Her hair is a frightful tangle too - but Cersei saw enough of her at Winterfell to know that is not entirely unusual; although the Lady Catelyn had made an effort otherwise for their feasts. The girl is alone in the middle of the room, save for one of Stark’s men beside her; a grave expression on his face.

Suddenly, Eddard Stark bursts into the room and ignoring everyone - rushes to his daughter. “I’m sorry-sorry-sorry.” The words come out of Arya Stark in a rush.

Yes, you’ll be sorry. You and your father.

“Shh, sweetling. It’s all right.” Ned Stark breaks apart from their embrace, but one hand is still on his girl’s shoulder. “What is the meaning of this? Why was my daughter not brought to me at once?” He flared.

Cersei pounced. “How dare you speak to your king in that manner!”

Cersei has little love for Robert. Why would she – when she already has Jaime, her other half? It is Jaime who had given Cersei her three precious lion cubs- Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen. Jaime, who wants her and who whispers her name in the dark and who proved that he would be willing to go so far as to kill for her.

But just as she must put up with Robert for now until Joff’s crown was secure, Cersei needed him for this.

“Quiet, Cersei.” Robert snapped. Cersei wonders if he is so wroth because they have kept him from his drink. Her husband turned to his friend. “I’m sorry, Ned. I didn’t mean to frighten your daughter. We just need to get this business sorted.”

“And what business is that?” Stark demanded; his voice full of icy courtesy. Cersei squeezed Joffrey’s shoulder before stepping forward.

“You know, Stark. Your daughter’s beast nearly ripped my son's hand off. Could have left him a cripple for life, or worse. She attacked him.”

“That’s not true!” The girl exploded. “She only bit him a little. He was hurting Mycah.” A little. Cersei’s lip curled. She had got enough out of Joff to know that the wolf’s bite was not little. “Joff told us what happened. He said that you and your butcher’s boy attacked him with clubs before you set your wolf on him."

Cersei knows that it was Joffrey who struck first – nobody with sense would think that a scrawny girl with a stick would attack a prince with a sword. Joffrey has always been like that. But all lies often have a foundation of truth, and in the end, it was true that the direwolf had attacked her son. And no matter what Joff had done, he was a prince.

“That’s not true.” Arya looked like she was on the brink of tears. “Yes, it is!” Her son retorted. "They all attacked me, and she threw Lion's Tooth in the river!" Joffrey stared straight ahead as he spoke.

“Liar!” Arya screamed.

“Shut up!”

"Enough!” Robert roared. His voice cut through the children’s shouts. He looked towards Arya. “Now child, speak, and tell your king what happened. And you,” He cast a look at Joffrey who was glaring at Arya. “Will speak when she is finished. Until then, be quiet if you know what’s good for you.”

Arya took a deep breath, before diving into her story. When she got to the part where she threw Joff’s sword in the river, Lord Renly could no longer contain himself. Cersei could sense Robert’s temper rising – after all these years together and concealed bruises, she knew it well enough to know.

“Barristan, escort my brother outside.” “No need, Barristan. I can see myself out.” Renly turned and bowed to Joff. “Perhaps later you’ll tell me how a nine-year-old girl the size of a wet rat managed to disarm you with a broom handle and throw your sword in the river." His laughter remained in the room as he left, like a poisonous scent. Cersei hoped he would stumble in the dark and break his neck.

Her son’s face was pale but despite this, he spoke without his words shaking. That was good- it was important never to show weakness. When her son was finished, Robert rose from his seat with the air of the man who would rather be anywhere else in the seven kingdoms.

“Seven hells! What am I supposed to do with this? He tells me one thing; she tells me another!”

“They were not the only ones there.” Ned Stark replied. Cersei felt herself start as she realized that the eldest Stark girl had joined them. Ned gestured to his girl, who like Robert, looked like she wanted to be anywhere else.

“Sansa, come here.” Cersei felt her eyebrows raise. He was really getting sweet Sansa to speak? Did he not care about her shaming his betrothed? Cersei knew full well how men hated to be shamed. All men were alike, even when they were still cubs like her son. She herself understood how shame could burn within you.

She watched as the girl cast two frightened looks – first at her sister, then at Joffrey. “I d-don’t know. I didn’t see, it all happened so fast-“ She said tearfully.

“LIAR!” Before anyone can stop her, Sansa’s sister starts striking her with tiny, angry fists. “Arya, stop it!” Ned Stark shouted, while his man pulled his daughter off his eldest. Sansa’s face was ashen and she was shaking from her sister’s assault. “Are you hurt?” Ned Stark asked, but his words did not seem to reach her.

Still, the girl’s outburst gave Cersei what she wanted. “That girl is as wild as that filthy animal of hers," Cersei spoke. She turned to Robert. “I want her punished.”

“Seven hells, Cersei.” Robert rubbed his sweaty brow. “What would you have me do? Whip her? Children fight.”

My father had my grandfather’s mistress stripped naked and paraded through the streets because she dared wear my lady grandmother’s jewels. Cersei lifted her chin, defiant. “Joffrey will bear these scars for the rest of his life.”

She saw Robert’s contemptuous eyes on Joffrey. Later, she would think how Robert rarely looked at Joffrey with pride. “So, he will. Well, all men must have scars- just don’t tell others how you got yours. Ned, see that your girl is dealt with. I’ll see to my son myself.” Stark sighed with relief. “Gladly, Your Grace.”

Cersei was not done here. “And what of the direwolf? What of the beast that savaged your heir?” Robert frowned. “I’d forgotten the damn wolf.” Stark’s man, who had remained silent until then – spoke up. “We found no trace of the direwolf, Your Grace.”

"No? So be it.” But Cersei was not so easily shaken. The lovely idea struck her like a whip.

“We have another wolf.” She could almost taste the triumph. It took them a moment to understand, but when they did Robert only shrugged. “Do as you will.”

“Robert, you cannot mean this.” Stark protested. Her husband had reached his limit. "Enough, Ned, I will hear no more. A direwolf is a savage beast. Sooner or later, it would have turned on your girl the same way the other did on my son. Get her a dog, she'll be happier for it."

“He doesn’t mean Lady, does he?” Sansa’s eyes were scared. She saw her father’s answer on his face, and you could almost see something crumble within her. Cersei felt something dangerously close to pity stir within her- but she had to do this.

She did not like Stark. She did not like that Robert had asked him to be his Hand. She did not like that his girl made her son look weak. And what better way to send a message than by killing the sigil of his house?

"No," she said. "No, not Lady, Lady didn't bite anybody, she's good . . . " "Lady wasn't there," Arya shouted angrily. "You leave her alone!"

Her son’s betrothed had lost control of herself now. "Stop them," Sansa pleaded, "don't let them do it, please, please, it wasn't Lady, it was Nymeria, Arya did it, you can't, it wasn't Lady, don't let them hurt Lady, I'll make her be good, I promise, I promise . . . " Ned Stark took his sobbing daughter into his arms. His eyes, begging, were on Robert. "Please, Robert. For the love you bear me. For the love you bore my sister. Please."

Cersei dug her fingernails at Lord Eddard’s mention of Lyanna Stark. Robert looked at his friend for a long moment, before turning to her. “Damn you, woman.”

He was so weak; Cersei couldn’t help but thinking. And I thought you loved Ned Stark well, husband. “Do it yourself, then.” The iciness had returned to Ned’s voice. “At least be man enough to do it yourself.”

Instead, Robert looked at the man who he had fostered and rebelled with, before storming from the room.

Cersei smiled. “Where is the direwolf?”

“Chained up outside, Your Grace.”

“Send for Ilyn Payne.” “

No.” Ned’s voice gave Cersei a start. "Jory, take the girls back to their rooms and bring me Ice."

Cersei’s eyes narrowed. “Is this some sort of trick?” “The wolf is of the North,” Stark responds. “She deserves better than a butcher.”

Stark keeps his word. Although it vexes her that she never got the pelt – Stark having gotten the sentimental notion to have the wolf taken North, Cersei savours the memory of Stark's face the rest of the way to Kingslanding.

They were lions, and sooner or later, lesser beasts like dire wolfs, would have to bow to them.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #cersei lannister #sansa stark #arya stark #ned stark #robert baratheon #got #house lannister #house stark

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lea12 · 4 years

Text

Trigger warnings: mentioned self-harm, age difference

Day 3: crown

###

Rhaegar survives, winning the war, but loses his loved ones.

Crown on the head means nothing if you lost the ones you wanted the crown for.

His mother is dead, his father is dead, His children are dead, his wife is dead, his Lyanna is dead, his and Lyanna's child is dead-

the ones he loved the most are dead because of him and crown and victory aren't truly his.

He curses the prophecy, curses himself for his foolishness and selfishness.

But his brother and sister live, the only family he has left, and he vows to protect them from the dangers of the crown and love and madness.

His people hate him, and what can he do to gain their love again?

Nothing, but try to be kind and a good, generous king.

He forgives those who went against him, he forgives and he tries to make amends.

His advisors tell him he could consider marriage again and he laughs to their faces, for what good will another marriage do?

He already has heirs.

He thinks of Elia, of their children, of Lya and their unborn child and he cries and screams, burns his harp, burns his crown, scars his throat until his Kingsguard barges in and saves him from himself.

His advisors don't speak of marriage ever again.

The rumors start, talking about how is as mad as his father was and he

He makes amends with every house in Westeros, except with the Starks.

Twenty years after the war, he finally heads to the North.

Lya often spoke of North, her grey eyes always lightening up when she would talk about her brothers and snow and her home.

He comes to the North, and his scars burn, as well as his heart.

He sees Ned's children, the bastard son and the Greyjoy boy.

The bastard looks just like Ned when he was younger. More than his own children look like him.

He greets Ned and Catelyn and their youngest first, who he recognizes has wolfblood already. He greets their oldest, who looks like a Tully more than a Stark. He sees the bastard behind him and he isn't quite sure why, but he recognizes Lya in the boy's face.

Their daughter is a great beauty already, even more beautiful than her mother.

He chokes when he sees her, when he sees a girl who looks just like Lya.

"Lya-" He whispers, swallowing hard because his scars burn.

"Arya." Lya... the young girl corrects him and he regains his composure, but can't help but chuckle at the girl. He sees she's dirty, in pants and her hair is ruffled and his heart aches for Lyanna.

"Forgive me, Lady Arya, you reminded me of someone for a moment." Her nose goes in disgust as he calls her a lady and he laughs again.

He forgot how his genuine laughter sounds like.

He keeps his eye on Arya, enchanted by how much she looks like Lyanna.

He's disgusted by himself when he's reminded by how old she is, his scars burn and his heart aches.

He watches her fence with Jon, Ned's bastard and they both remind him of Lya so much in that moment.

***

"You are all welcome to King's Landing." He says to Ned and Catelyn. "I understand Lady Sansa would be delighted to come, and I believe she would do wonderful there."

The couple share a look and he knows what they're thinking.

"I could use someone like you there, Lord Ned."

"My King-"

"I know what you're thinking and I'm aware my honor means nothing anymore, but I truly do wish for you to come with me. My brother and sister are rather lonely and I trust your children would get along with them quite well."

"Can we sleep on your offer?" Lady Catelyn asks and he nods, knowing they'll say no.

He goes back to King's Landing, a reminder of a girl with Lya's looks and spirit and a boy with her soul cut into his mind.

Two years later, he goes to Winterfell again, bringing his siblings alone.

"It's incredibly cold here." Viserys says when they come and Rhaegar nods.

"It will do you some good."

He hasn't arranged marriages for either of his siblings yet, even if they are of marriageable age. He knows what everyone thinks, that he wants to continue the Targaryen tradition, but no, he wants them to marry for love.

He knows why Viserys loves visiting Dorne so much, for Lady Arianne is a wicked, but beautiful girl and Sand sisters are even more wicked.

Daenerys is lonely, he knows how lonely the it can be. Lady Sansa might get along well with his sister, he hopes they do.

He sees Lady Arya first, of course he does and his breath hitches, for she is Lyanna reborn now.

***

She's alone in the woods now, practing with a sword and he looks at her, scars and heart burning.

"Lady Arya." He greets her, but she isn't frightened. "Do you need company?"

"No." She remembers who he is. "My King."

"If you strike me, Lady Arya, I'll give you anything you want." He says and she smirks.

"You can't give me freedom. But, I would love to say how I striked the king." He smirks and her mischievous smile reminds him of Lya.

They fence and she does manage to strike him.

She makes him laugh, she always suceeds in making him laugh.

***

"Lady Arya." Her nose always goes up in disgust when she's called a lady and it reminds him of Lya. Everything about her reminds him of Lya.

"My King?"

"What do you wish for, Lady Arya?"

"For everyone to stop calling me lady. My freedom."

"I will give you anything you want, if you come to King's Landing with me."

"My King-"

"You are as beautiful as your aunt was."

"I'm not my aunt."

"No, you're not. You're Arya, and your spirit is more of that of a wolf than hers ever was."

"What do you want, my king?"

"For you to be by my side. I won't touch you as a husband would touch a wife, but just be by my side, Lady Arya."

"Don't call me Lady Arya anymore."

"Don't call me my king anymore." There's a hint of a smile on her lips.

"With you near, I finally laugh as I used to, I finally feel alive again. Arya, I'll give you freedom and everything else you wish for, just to keep that feeling."

"Wearing the crown doesn't mean freedom, it means being bound even more."

"Not if you're near me. You could do anything you want there, I'll let you have your freedom. You can share your bed with men, women, as many as you wish, I would not care."

"I want freedom. I want to ride a horse, never wear a dress again, go anywhere I want without a title bounding me."

"I'll give you that. You can have title of my mistress, no one will bother you then."

"It would bring ill name to my house."

"Be my queen, I promise you'll have freedom."

"Your crown won't bring me the freedom I want. Besides, the crown was always meant for my sister."

"Lady Sansa is destined for a queen, but she's not who I'm offering."

"What do you want, Rhaegar? In this moment?" She asks.

"A kiss, if you'll give me." He answers, truthfully, and she pulls him in a heated kiss, leaving both of them gasping for air.

"I don't want to have my aunt's fate."

"But what do you want?" She looks at him with her grey eyes.

"I want you."

"You'll have me forever." He promises and his scars burn yet again.

***

She's looking at herself in the mirror, knowing she looks like Lyanna reborn.

"Arya." Rhaegar calls for her from the bed meant for their bedding and she turns around, naked expect for the crown on her head.

Her aunt might have gotten the wreath of flowers as a crown, but Arya got the dragon's crown, silver and red.

#asoiaf #asoiafrare #asoiaf rarepairs #targaryen #prince rhaegar #rhaegar targaryen #rhaegar x arya #arya x rhaegar #arya stark #tw: self harm #drabble #i tried

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from-ib-to-asshai · 3 years

Text

WIP WEDNESDAY- I see you down on your knees

Arya should like to imagine that Frey blood is different then other blood. Maybe that the smell is more putrid, or that the liquid more viscous. Perhaps even a different color; more brown. Dirty blood would be fitting for such a dirty, rotten family.

But this isn’t the case. Despite all odds, the blood of the Frey men is almost lovely; she doesn’t clean the blood out from under her fingernails for weeks in a futile hope to keep it there forever. It’s color seemed so bright in the candlelight of the Twins’ kitchen, runny and red like the wine she’d serve to the other family members later on. It was almost indescribable how it felt to watch it.

It was meant for her, she realized. Arya was meant to bleed men like them just like the sun was meant to rise in the east. It was destiny.

At night sometimes, Arya would shake with anticipation at the thought of Cersei Lannister’s blood. Would it be just as wonderful? Even more so? The expression on Cersei’s face would be of no matter to her because all that matters was her blood, because blood was her life force and Arya would weep with joy to have the chance to rip her life out of her, Needle forgotten at her side as she would instead dig it all out with her bare hands, the squelching sounds of flesh and muscle and blood combined with the cracking of bones would-

Oh. She’s getting ahead of herself again, isn’t she.

Sansa stares at her from across the table, obviously still waiting for an answer.

“I’ve been around,” she said, “Surviving. Training. Hiding.” She shrugged. “Nothing worth mentioning.” If Arya hadn’t been trained so well, she would've missed the almost imperceptible narrowing of her sisters eyes.

“I see.”

A pause.

“What about you?”

There was another pause, and Arya saw something in Sansa’s demeanor change - not for the better. On guard. Jaqen would have hit her for her mistake; Now Sansa either thought she was mocking her, since wherever she had been was obviously public knowledge, or her sister now knows that she’d spent the last years out of Westeros.

Jaqen would have hit her for it, the Waif would have beat her for it, Sansa now distrusts her for it. Arya just cursed herself for it instead.

“Lord Baelish got me out of King’s Landing,” the redhead began smoothly, ringing her hands together on her lap, “I was hidden in the Vale for a while(...)”

The silence between them was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but simply a reminder that they were essentially strangers, weren’t they, after so many years apart. Sansa was beautiful, sitting on the simple wooden chair as if it were a throne, back straight, hands folded and head held evenly as not to disturb the non-existent crown that rested upon it. Her red hair neatly braided and her face illuminated by the low fire, her displeased expression was identical to the one she’d given Arya almost every day growing up. This realization stopped her in her tracks.

She tilted her head. No, it couldn´t be. Couldn´t it? They wouldn't have sent someone to Winterfell this fast, they couldn't have. Oh, but they could have. They could have gotten to Winterfell in the time she was in The Twins, they could have taken it over, they could have taken her sister's face.

They had reasons too.

The House had reasons to be angry with Arya Stark, and they had the resources to tear her down, to kill her. All the shattered promises, all the ignored oaths, all the broken rules. But why? Revenge? That wasn’t their style, really; hadn’t that been the whole point? The lesson that Jaqen H’Ghar had tried to teach her, that The Waif had tried to beat into her?

We never give the gift to please ourselves. Nor do we choose the ones we kill. We are but servants of the God of Many Faces…

A lesson. That would be a motive. That would be a reason to kill and impersonate Sansa Stark. Maybe they needed more servants for the god then she’d thought. Maybe they wanted her back. Maybe-

The door creaks open.

She flinches, instinctively tracing the outline of the hidden knife beneath the sleeve of her tunic with her hand. The door opens too slow for it to be an attacker, the footsteps too loud for an assassin, she knows -- but flinches anyway.

Petyr Baelish looks different then from when she last saw him. Perhaps older, perhaps more weary.The last time she had seen him had been years ago after all, No, thats not it; he looks smaller, almost like a small child dwarfed by the thick winter furs he has to wear to stay warm.

Littlefinger isn’t made for winter, she realizes. A small grin briefly twists itself over her face. His beady little eyes fixed onto her and he smiled tightly, bowing deeply in their direction.

“My Lady Arya. It truly is wonderful to see you,” he said, taking a seat by Sansa, “When was the last time I saw you -- four, five years ago?” He says it like he doesn’t exactly know how long, which of course is a lie, seeing what kind of person Petyr Baelish is. “You were naught but a child then. I am delighted to see you have grown into a beautiful young lady, and are safely back in Winterfell.”

Are you? She thinks to herself. Outloud she says, “Yes.”

The simple reply throws Baelish off, and he awkwardly readjusts himself in his seat.

“You simply must tell me about what you’ve been doing all these years. No one has heard from you in years.” He trying to play with her, she knows, but she is not interested in playing his game. He is far more interested in him playing hers. The smile she wears in small and light, weightless and nonchalant. She needs to make Baelish believe she thinks she’s smarter than she is. Not to trick him later; no, like she says, she has little interest in the game of thrones. No, she needs both him and Sansa to believe she had no capabilities to kill him, that she was too dumb to try.

She shrugs. “Same could be said for you My Lord. I hear one moment you’re working for the Lannisters, next you’re marrying into House Arryn, only to move on to the Boltons. All quite conflicting reports, really.” Her voice is soft and dispassionate. “I was hoping, that as I tell you of my travels, I’d be able to hear about yours more. Oh, you know how the smallfolk speak -- all rumors and claims -- one can never really know the truth.”

“No,” Littlefinger replied, “One truly can’t. I-”

“So I must wonder, Lord Baelish, where your loyalties really lay.”

“My loyalties are solely with your sister and House Stark, my Lady,” he said smoothly, “Any mishaps or conflicts in my actions were purely to survive and to get your family back home.” Sansa stiffened slightly beside him but said nothing.

“As Lady Sansa can surely attest to, the Vale’s armies played an important part in defeating the Boltons and securing Winterfell. The Vale has sacrificed many a moon and many a man to get us where we are today. So if my word itself isn’t enough to make you not distrust me My Lady, then at least trust my actions.” He bowed his head to her with a smile, his hand on his chest.

It took her a moment to riffle through his words to actually gain some meaning from them; Littlefinger spoke fast and spoke many words whilst saying little. But aside from the acknowledgement that his loyalties to Sansa meant more to him then any other, and the mention of how indebted the North was to the Arryns, there wasn’t much behind his words.

She’d expected more from Lord Baelish after all she’d heard. Or maybe it was on purpose - perhaps he didn’t think she-

“Of course, you should know best that I can be trusted -- After all, I never revealed your secret to anyone, all those years ago.”

Ah. There it is.

Sansa’s sharp, icy gaze pierced through her. She didn’t even have to look over to see the question burning in those pale eyes. Baelish grinned wider.

“Harrenhal was such a terrible place, wasn’t it. I can’t imagine what it must have been there -- especially under Tywin Lannister.” Arya felt herself grinding her teeth together. “I just hope you managed to get out of there before before the Mountain took over,” he continued, “But it surely would have been hard to escape unnoticed -- especially being Tywin’s personal cupbearer.”

And there it was. The kick she’d been expecting.

Thick tension filled the room as silence took over. Baelish’s smile waned slightly, unnerved by the quiet. He’d surely been expecting some sort of revoke from her, a hurried defense, a glim of anger; even just a startled look.

But Arya Stark did not bend to the whims of men.

Sansa's dry voice broke the moment.

“Lord Baelish, you must excuse us. It seems my sister and I have much to discuss.”

The man stood and bowed, obviously pleased with his work, and left, footsteps loud and they echoey as he descended down the hall.

“You haven’t even been here half a day and he’s already trying to cause distrust between us.” Arya looked over, surprised. Now this she hadn’t been expecting. Sansa leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples and sighing. She caught her younger sisters inquisitive gaze and smiled faintly.

“He loves doing things like this,” the redhead murmured, tracing her finger along the wood of the table, “Trying to tear families apart, causing chaos wherever he steps foot,” she huffs. “I do understand why, I am easier to manipulate when alone. That doesn’t mean he’s any less despicable.”

Arya blinked. Sansa leaned over to her, laying her hand close to hers, close enough to feel the warmth without direct touch. She appreciated that, in a strange way.

“Why don’t you just...send him away?” Sansa smiles again, and Arya thinks it’s somewhere between patronizing and affectionate. Her younger self would have gotten at the gesture, but the last time anyone had looked at her with any kind of real affection had been years ago, so she didn’t even mind getting talked down too -- For all she’d been taught in Bravos, the House had not cared to teach her about Westerosi politics.

“Because we need the Vale’s army. We can’t afford to lose their alliance because, while Lord Royce cares little for him, if our dearest cousin hears that his lord regent and surrogate father is killed on flimsy claims of conspiracy and treason ...” Sansa paused, looking out the window. The bright grey light reflected on her blue eyes. Arya realizes, then, that she hadn’t suggested to murder him, only to remove him from Winterfell.

No, she realizes then. This was not a faceless man trying to trick by using the face of her sister. The amount of fury in her face, etched into the curve of her gentle smile, sparkling in her kind eyes, evident in every small nod and calm word - this is not the way of a faceless man. The subtlety of the anger, no - they would try to be much more obvious.They would not try to conceal their resentment as effectively as Sansa did.

Arya felt a twinge of pride at that, unable to imagine how the elder Stark had become this good of a liar -- what had caused it.

Satisfied with her discoveries, she excused herself, venturing out into the old, dusty, grey halls that she had once called her home. The dark stains, the crumbling corners, the burn marks on the tapestries and the nervous maids that have quick, hurried direwolves stitched into their overcoats to distract from the pinks and reds of their skirts that they are too poor to replace.

#yeah i aint ever gonna finish this #but i did like writing this part #title is taken from son luxs You Dont Know Me #Arya Stark #house stark #Sansa Stark #peter baelish #littlefinger #wip #wip wednesday #ASoIaF #A Song of Ice and Fire #got #game of thrones #implied vague arya x jaqen #the faceless men #the house of black and white #game of thrones season 7

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butterflies-dragons · 3 years

Note

Do you have any doubts that Sansa is the girl in grey? Is there strong grey imagery around Sansa?

I believe Sansa is the grey girl yes, but only GRRM has that answer.

About grey imagery around Sansa, I wrote about it here and there.

Grey is the main Stark color. Their sigil is a grey direwolf in a white field. Stark men wear grey cloaks, Winterfell is made of grey granite, Grey eyes is a Stark feature, etc.

There are some instances where Sansa actually wears or it is said that she will wear a grey cloak:

1.- Her first encounter with Dontos (false Florian) in the Red Keep's Godswood: "Sansa threw a plain grey cloak over her shoulders and picked up the knife she used to cut her meat. If it is some trap, better that I die than let them hurt me more, she told herself. She hid the blade under her cloak."

It is very curious that Dontos was also wearing grey during that first secret encounter: "He wore a dark grey robe with the cowl pulled forward, but when a thin sliver of moonlight touched his cheek, she knew him at once by the blotchy skin and web of broken veins beneath. "Ser Dontos," she breathed, heartbroken. "Was it you?"

2.- Cersei gave her a white and silver maiden cloak for her wedding to Tyrion. Stark colors are grey and white tho... I think in this case the silver is there instead of the grey of House Stark. I'm not sure if this is a mistake or not. "Cersei Lannister ignored the question. "The cloak," she commanded, and the women brought it out: a long cloak of white velvet heavy with pearls. A fierce direwolf was embroidered upon it in silver thread. Sansa looked at it with sudden dread. "Your father's colors," said Cersei, as they fastened it about her neck with a slender silver chain."

Curiously enough, Tyrion wore Targaryen colors to marry Sansa lol

3.- Littlefinger planned for Alayne to reveal her true identity as Sansa Stark wearing a maiden cloak with the Stark colors grey and white: "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.

From my answer about certain ship foreshadowing:

What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?

In the shadow of the Wall, the direwolf brushed up against his fingers. For half a heartbeat the night came alive with a thousand smells, and Jon Snow heard the crackle of the crust breaking on a patch of old snow. Someone was behind him, he realized suddenly. Someone who smelled warm as a summer day. When he turned he saw Ygritte. She stood beneath the scorched stones of the Lord Commander’s Tower, cloaked in darkness and in memory. The light of the moon was in her hair, her red hair kissed by fire. When he saw that, Jon’s heart leapt into his mouth. “Ygritte,” he said. “Lord Snow.” The voice was Melisandre’s. Surprise made him recoil from her. “Lady Melisandre.” He took a step backwards. “I mistook you for someone else.” At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red. He did not understand how he could have taken her for Ygritte. She was taller, thinner, older, though the moonlight washed years from her face. Mist rose from her nostrils, and from pale hands naked to the night. “You will freeze your fingers off,” Jon warned. “If that is the will of R’hllor. Night’s powers cannot touch one whose heart is bathed in god’s holy fire.” “You heart does not concern me. Just your hands.” “The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you.” “I have no sister.” The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? Melisandre seemed amused. “What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?” “Arya.” His voice was hoarse. “My half-sister, truly …” “… for you are bastard born. I had not forgotten. I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. Coming here, to you. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VI

Earlier in this chapter, Jon was thinking about Arya and her situation (trapped with the Boltons), and he was frustrated for not being able to help her. Then he remembered Ygritte, he confused Melisandre for Ygritte.

So, reading all the context:

What do you know of my heart, priestess? = This is about Ygritte. He is still hurt and mourning for her.

What do you know of my sister? = This is about Arya and her situation.

This is an excellent example of how GRRM plays with our minds with his tricky words:

“At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red”. He is introducing us to the Grey Girl and her true identity.

Jon thinks he is seeing Ygritte but he was actually seeing Melissandre.

Melisandre and Jon also believe this grey girl of the visions is Arya Stark, but the person trapped with the Boltons is Jeyne Poole. And later, Alys Karstark was not even wearing a “grey” cloak.

For me the grey girl is neither of them. The answer is hidden in this line: “At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red”.

***

"At night all robes are grey" means all the confusion about the grey girl's true identity: Arya or Jeyne or Alys Karstark.

"Yet suddenly hers were red" means that the girl with the grey cloak will be a redhead, like Ygritte and Melisandre the two women Jon was confusing.

So, Sansa as the grey girl makes a lot of sense, she is a redhead and she is a Stark, and grey is the main Stark color.

And this is not the first time that Jon confused Ygritte with another female. Jon dreamed of a ghastly grey direwolf wandering around the Crypts of Winterfell, that seems to be Lady’s Shade:

The crypts were growing darker. A light has gone out somewhere. “Ygritte?” he whispered. “Forgive me. Please.” But it was only a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his her golden eyes shining sadly through the dark . .

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VIII

Despite Jon assuming the direwolf was a "he," I strongly suspect it was Lady's Shade. Lady is buried at Winterfell, not Grey Wind. Lady was beheaded with Ice, so her fur would be spotted with blood. And Lady was said to have sad eyes.

So, Jon is always confusing Ygritte with another redheads...

From my Dunk & Jon meta:

Maybe I’m seeing too much here, but the reference to Alysanne Osgrey [Os-Grey] makes me think of Sansa Stark, because:

Sansa shared a lot of parallels with Good Queen Alysanne.

The surname Osgrey has the word grey in it.

Alysanne Osgrey became a Silent Sister.

Silent Sisters always wear grey.

Silent Sisters are known as the Stranger’s wives.

According to Melissandre, the Grey Girl of her visions is Jon Snow’s Sister.

The Grey Girl will probably be Sansa Stark.

Grey is also the color of House Stark, so Sansa is, in a way, a Grey Girl.

Jon is a man that will defeat death and come back to life, like the Stranger that walks between the two worlds.

The Stranger’s face is half animal, like Jon who is a warg, half man and half beast.

From my Jon/Sansa/Winterfell meta:

The stone is strong = The walls of Winterfell = Alayne Stone = Sansa Stark.

Sansa Stark has a lot of stone imagery around her.

Winterfell’s walls are made of grey granite. Grey is also a color of House Stark and I believe that Sansa will be the girl in grey on a dying horse from Melisandre’s vision.

As the Heir to Winterfell, Sansa was practically transformed into a stone castle, Winterfell, and the north itself, since the one that controlled her would obtain all her lands and power. Or, to use the euphemism from the Books, Sansa Stark was the “key to the north.”

Sansa reflects about this objectification in the Books and gives us one of the saddest lines in ASOIAF, especially coming from a girl who yearns to be loved and always dreamed of getting married: “No one will ever marry me for love,” (because everyone only wants her for her claim to Winterfell and the north).

Tyrion associates Sansa’s rejection of his advances as icy courtesy and compared that rejection with a castle wall that he never got to break:

“You hide behind courtesy as if it were a castle wall.” “Courtesy is a lady’s armor,” Sansa said. Her septa had always told her that.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

Sansa’s misery was deepening every day. Tyrion would gladly have broken through her courtesy to give her what solace he might, but it was no good.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IV

He wanted to reach her, to break through the armor of her courtesy.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

The castle wall that armored Sansa and Tyrion never got to break is a clear reference to Winterfell:

He remembered Winterfell as he had last seen it. Not as grotesquely huge as Harrenhal, nor as solid and impregnable to look at as Storm’s End, yet there had been a great strength in those stones, a sense that within those walls a man might feel safe.

—A Clash of Kings - Tyrion XI

And certainly, Sansa feels stronger and protected within the walls of Winterfell:

Sansa stuck her fingers through the top, grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his collar. “That was unchivalrously done, my lady.” “As was bringing me here, when you swore to take me home.” She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Sansa feeling stronger within the walls of Winterfell, sounds pretty similar to “the stone is strong” line from Bran quote cited above.

Later, while descending from the Eyrie to the Gates of the Moon, Mya Stone tells Sansa that “a stone is a mountain’s daughter.”

Men come and go. They lie, or die, or leave you. A mountain is not a man, though, and a stone is a mountain’s daughter. I trust my father, and I trust my mules. I won’t fall.” She put her hand on a jagged spur of rock, and got to her feet. “Best finish. We have a long way yet to go, and I can smell a storm.”

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

One of Winterfell’s possible meanings is “wintry mountain(s).” And Sansa Stark is “The northern girl. Winterfell’s daughter”.

As the daughter of Petyr Baelish, Alayne Stone also becomes the Heir to Harrenhal, another great castle made of strong stone. Only dragon fire was able to melt Harrenhal’s stone walls:

Stone does not burn, Harren had boasted, but his castle was not made of stone alone. […] And even stone will crack and melt if a fire is hot enough. The riverlords outside the castle walls said later that the towers of Harrenhal glowed red against the night, like five great candles… and like candles, they began to twist and melt, as runnels of molten stone ran down their sides.

—The World of Ice and Fire - The Reign of the Dragons: The Conquest

Moreover we have the parallels that Sansa shares with Jenny of Oldstones. And Oldstones serves us as an example of the strength of the stone.

Just like Winterfell was the stronghold of the ancient Kings of Winter, Oldstones was the stronghold of the ancient River Kings (House Mudd of Oldstones), both dynasties descendants of the First Men. And if we read about Oldstones, thinking about Winterfell is an inevitability:

They reached Oldstones after eight more days of steady rain, and made their camp upon the hill overlooking the Blue Fork, within a ruined stronghold of the ancient river kings. Its foundations remained amongst the weeds to show where the walls and keeps had stood, but the local smallfolk had long ago made off with most of the stones to raise their barns and septs and holdfasts. Yet in the center of what once would have been the castle’s yard, a great carved sepulcher still rested, half hidden in waist-high brown grass amongst a stand of ash. The lid of the sepulcher had been carved into a likeness of the man whose bones lay beneath, but the rain and the wind had done their work. The king had worn a beard, they could see, but otherwise his face was smooth and featureless, with only vague suggestions of a mouth, a nose, eyes, and the crown about the temples. His hands folded over the shaft of a stone warhammer that lay upon his chest. Once the warhammer would have been carved with runes that told its name and history, but all that the centuries had worn away. The stone itself was cracked and crumbling at the corners, discolored here and there by spreading white splotches of lichen, while wild roses crept up over the king’s feet almost to his chest.

—A Storm of Swords - Catelyn V

Despite the pass of time the foundations of Oldstones remained and the stones were even used by the smallfolk to rise new buildings. The stone is really strong.

What also remained despite the centuries was the tomb of King Tristifer IV Mudd, also known as the Hammer of Justice, which immediately reminds me of the crypts of Winterfell and its stone kings sitting on their thrones with their swords across their laps.

And just like songs are still sung about a girl named Jenny from Oldstones who found true love with a Targaryen prince, I’m pretty sure that many songs will be sung about Sansa Stark from Winterfell and her own Targaryen prince.

Finally, is worth mentioning that Stark means “strong” in German. And there’s a theory about House Strong (extinguished) being linked to House Stark.

Stone = Strong = Stark

So by saying the stone is strong, we are also saying the stone is Stark.

Alayne Stone is Sansa Stark.

***

There you have it.

Thanks for your message ♡

#sansa stark #jonsa #anon asks

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sailorshadzter · 4 years

Text

yet another season 8 fix it fic.

was meant to be a drabble, but hey, what can you do.

Her breath catches, eyes stinging in the acidic smoke that fills the air.

Footsteps distract her and she shifts, watching as the wild eyed dragon queen storms away from where she stands, unable to face the burning of the bodies. She swivels back to face front, watching as the flames consume those lost in the battle, those who died so the rest of them could be standing where they are now. Her hand aches, wounded by a blade the night before, but she tightens it into a fist all the same, the pain a reminder that she still yet lives. Pain... It is all she knows.

A touch to her arm is like electricity and she turns into it, facing him with a solemn gaze. "I must speak with you," he says, voice hoarse, those Stark colored eyes of his staring deep into hers, gaze so intense she can't bring herself to look away. At her feet, Ghost whines for a pat, but she cannot move, she's frozen there in his gaze. "Please... Sansa." His hand reaches for hers, unknowing, and she winces, pulling free from his grasp.

"There's nothing left to say." She whispers, shaking her head, though there's dozens of things she thinks she could say.

She turns from him then, back to face the burning pyre that is Theon's, though she closes her eyes; like the dragon queen, she cannot face this either. It takes several moments for Jon to sigh and walk away from where she stands, though Ghost does not stray from where he sits at her feet. When he's left her side, she opens her eyes.

Perhaps it was not death that she could not face after all.

[ x x x ]

Snow is gently falling, covering the scars of the battlefield.

She's lost track of the time since she sat herself beneath the heart tree, but here is the only place she seems to find any solace. Any ounce of peace at all. Inside, the servants work tirelessly to prepare for the feast they've got planned- a celebration of life, of the win they've taken over the Night King. But, Sansa doesn't feel much like celebrating. Not when everything feels so very wrong.

And it isn't just the loss of Theon that plagues her. It's the nightmarish images that haunt her mind from down below in the crypts. It's the sound of flesh tearing from bone, it's the screams of the dying as the animated corpses of her long lost ancestors tore innocent women and children limb from limb before her very eyes. It's the knowledge that in the end, she was useless, that she could not protect anyone, that perhaps in the end she was not cut out for the title she wished so desperately was hers.

"Sansa?"

She looks up, so lost in thought she's not noticed Jon's approaching footsteps. It's him, too... It's Jon that hurts her, loves her, haunts her. "I've been looking everywhere for you." He sounds worried and for a single instant, she feels contrite. But then she remembers and she turns away once more, tucking her chin back into place against her knees, which she's drawn tightly against her chest.

He knows she's angry with him and Jon cannot blame her. Did you bend the knee to save the North, or because you love her? Her words still yet haunt him, still yet remind him that even she thinks he's given up his title, his place as King in the North, all because he's fallen in love with the dragon queen. If only she knew. If only, if only. He knows he must be honest with her, she deserves the truth, and yet... He bows his head, shamed, thinking perhaps he does not deserve to speak to her when he has yet to be honest with her about anything at all.

"I thought I might find some time to myself before the feast," her voice breaks into his thoughts and Jon raises his gaze from his feet to where she sits just ahead, shrouded in shadow as the sun sets beyond the horizon. To his surprise, she raises her own head, blue eyes staring intently up at him before she unlatches her arms from around her knees so she might pat the spot beside her, an invitation for him to sit beside her. And that's when he notices the bandages wrapped around her palm, something he had not noticed earlier that day at the funeral.

"Your hand!" He nearly shouts, unable to control the tone of his voice as he sinks down in front of her instead, taking her hand into his own as gently as he can. "You... You were injured?" He raises his wide eyed gaze from her battered hand back to her feet, catching the red tint of her ivory cheeks just before the last of the sunlight dies overhead, casting them into the pale light of the moon instead. It illuminates her, weaving into her crimson hair, giving her an ethereal look he's never seen before. "I'm sorry," he whispers, still clinging to her hand, hyper aware that she's made no movement to pull away from him. "I should have... I didn't..." Guilt fills him up, threatening to spill over, guilt for far more than just this hand injury.

To his surprise, she smiles, and in the moonlight it softens her. "It's not your fault," she comments softly, her other hand sliding into place over his, fingers cold from the winter air. "How were you to know what would happen down there?" Though they've not talked about what she witnessed down in the crypts, Jon saw the faces of the survivors, heard the testimony from Tyrion and the others. It was not just those on the battlefield that saw truly horrific things. "I only wanted..." She stops herself, closing her eyes as if she's reliving whatever it was she saw that night. When she opens her eyes, Jon sees that tears have filled them. "I only wanted to protect them."

He cannot take it any longer.

And so he reaches for her then, tugging her into his embrace without a single word. She gives into his touch, sinking into his chest, face buried into the crook of his shoulder as she softly cries. They have not been this close since the day he returned- he's not held her in his arms or breathed in the scent of her. He's missed her, more than his words could ever say. "I'm sorry," is all he can whisper, a mantra against her sweet smelling hair, his arms tightening their grip upon her shaking frame. He cares not how long they must sit there like this, he would stay forever if that was what she wished.

But finally, after what might be a lifetime or perhaps only several moments, she pulls back, wiping at her eyes as she murmurs an apology of her own. "Don't apologize," he says, reaching out his hand to catch a final tear drop before it falls from her lashes. "I am the one who's sorry," he goes on again, shaking his head when she means to interrupt. "Aye, you're right, I didn't know what would happen down there, but I should have been more careful." He holds his hand into place against the curve of her cheek, staring into her eyes there in the darkness of the night. "You're everything to me, Sansa," he admits without hesitation, the confession falling from his lips before he can stop himself. Her eyes widen, cheeks stained with red as his words take root within her brain. "You are the most precious thing in my life, I should have been more wary about sending you or anyone else down there."

Her heart is beating so quickly inside of her chest that she thinks surely Jon must hear it. She swallows against the new wave of emotion rushing through her, a smile curving upon her lips as she holds to his gray eyed gaze. "Jon... I..." She doesn't know what to say to this heartfelt admission of his, though she's longed to hear him say such a thing to her.

"You don't have to say anything." He says softly, his hand sliding from it's place against her cheek; she feels cold without it there. "I just... I just wanted to tell you. I should have before." He knows, deep down, just truly how long he's harbored these feelings for her. For his so-called half sister. That reminds him... What he wanted to speak to her of. "Sansa, I..."

"There you are!"

A new voice interrupts them and at once, Jon springs up to his feet as Arya approaches them, a very knowing look on her bruised features. Whatever thoughts she has about discovering her two older siblings in such a way together, she keeps to herself, but rather comes to stand just before them. "The feast is to start, but I've been told it can't start without either of you." She says, gesturing back towards Winterfell, which looms in the darkness behind them. "And if I know Sansa, she has a new dress to put on." Arya's face cracks with a grin, a sight that brings a laugh from both Jon and Sansa's mouths, as the latter nods, for indeed she did have a new gown to wear. "So get on with it." Arya waves her hand in a gesture of goodbye, then turns, slinking back towards Winterfell without a backwards glance. Truth was, she wasn't all that surprised to find Jon and Sansa sitting so close; she wasn't stupid, she's seen the looks they share, even if they think no one else notices.

Turning back to Sansa, Jon reaches out a hand, a silent offer; she takes it, allowing him to pull her up onto her feet. Brushing snow from her skirts, she smiles for him, wishing that their time alone might never have to end. "I'll walk you to your rooms." Jon says, his hand still wrapped in hers. She nods and together they fall into step beside one another, only after Sansa has looped her arm through his.

As they walk up the path, back towards Winterfell, neither one of them notice the violet eyes that peer down at them from a window, watching until they disappear from sight inside the palace.

When they reach her door, Jon hesitates.

He finds he doesn't wish to leave her side, though it's only a matter of time before he sees her again. "I will... See you down there, I suppose." He says, hand to the back of his head, nervously running through his curls as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. And then he turns, as if he means to leave, knowing she has much to do to prepare herself for the feast down below.

"Jon..." She reaches for him, keeping him there a moment longer. "Earlier, you said you had to talk to me." She recalls his soft pleading from that morning, when she had been full of anger and remorse and guilt. "Tell me..."

To her surprise, he smiles before shaking his head. "It can wait." He decides, knowing for even just one night more, he wants things to remain as they are. She smiles and nods, before her hand slips away and so does she, disappearing behind her door with a little wave of her bandaged hand.

It takes him several moments, but finally, he walks away.

[ x x x ]

When she appears at the feast, Jon is mesmerized.

She is radiant in her gown of fish scales, the material shimmering blue and green as it catches the firelight. Every pair of eyes in the room is upon the Lady of Winterfell as she slips into the hall, blushing as the Northern lords send up a cheer on her behalf. Jon spares Daenerys a quick glance, who at his side, is also watching Sansa as she comes towards them at the head table; the dragon queen wears her true feelings upon her ivory features, but Sansa seems to not care, or perhaps not even notice her, as she glides right on by to take the chair at Jon's other side.

"Your gown," he comments, as everyone falls back into their previous conversations. "It's nice." Somehow, they've been here before and they both smile with the knowledge of it. "I like the scales." It's proof of the pride she has in her Tully heritage, a homage to the mother she loves and misses every single day of her life.

"Thank you," she murmurs, once again blushing, though somehow deeper than when the lords cheered her name. "I've been working on it since you left for Dragonstone." All her weeks alone, she worked on the gown, made from material left behind in one of her mother's old trunks. Upon her initial discovery of the fabric, she had been still yet too wounded to make something from it, but somehow, Jon's leaving all those weeks ago had prompted her to begin a gown.

Jon opens his mouth to speak, but the clinging of a glass overtakes his voice and they both turn to face the table of Northern lords, where Lord Royce has risen to his feet, prepared to speak on behalf of them all.

And so the feast could begin.

[ x x x ]

He is still yet drunk when he stumbles from his rooms, following his conversation with Daenerys. It is late, so late that the torches have nearly gone out in the corridors, but he presses on until he's at her door. Suddenly, the late hour doesn't matter, all that matters is that he sees her face.

When she opens her door, she's dressed for bed, but her fur robe is thrown over her shoulders, her cheeks pink from drinking, but she looks worried. Not that he can blame her- what can she expect from a knock so very late at night? But at the sight of him there, she's stepping back, allowing him the space so he might slip inside of her rooms. "I'm sorry, I..." He begins, shaking his head as he steps into the center of the room, the fire blazing in the hearth telling him she had no plans of retiring soon. "I had to see you." The words are simple, but they are the truth.

Sansa knows he's not in his right mind and it's not just from the alcohol he's consumed that night. No, she knows this look, though he's tried to hide it from her; he's been with Daenerys. And from the looks of him, it didn't go well. "Sit," she murmurs, drawing him towards the hearth, towards a chair that she had only just been occupying. Across the room, much to his joy, Ghost snoozes in her bed. "I'm glad you came." She admits, sinking down to his level, her blue gaze calming him as he meets her eyes. "I was too afraid to come to you."

Her words sink into his brain, which stops whirling almost at once, the meaning of what she's said dawning upon him. "You are the most precious person to me, too," she whispers, rosy lips curving with her smile, the truth falling from them easing the weight that's sat upon her heart for far too long. "I care not what anyone thinks, Jon, I... I...-"

She cannot finish, for he kisses her.

It's a fierce kiss, a kiss that he's been holding in for weeks, no, months. It's a kiss that fills her with warmth, with courage, a kiss that tells her so many things that his words could not. Though he hates to do so, he breaks it, drawing back just so he might slip his hands into place on either side of her face, staring intently into her blue eyes. "Sansa... About earlier, about what I wanted to say to you..." She gives a single nod and then the words begin to fall from his lips, weaving for her the same tale that Sam had spun for him the night before the battle with the Night King.

By the time he's finished, she's already sunk into place in his lap, her weight warm, comforting. "Then Jon... That means..." He shakes his head, for her already knows what she's about to say. As if she understands him, she smiles somewhat, leaning in so she can tip her forehead against his. "You'll always be a Stark to me," her voice is a thread, a whisper of smoke, but the words mean everything to him. "No matter who your father or mother was, you'll always just be Jon, always." He crushes her against him, breathing in her rose scented hair, knowing that not even the Gods themselves could pull him from her right then.

"I love you," he murmurs, his breath warm against the shell of her ear, his hand sliding into place against her chest just so he might feel her heart beat into his palm. "I have wanted to tell you for so long. I love you, I love you." She nuzzles in closer, the closeness of him everything she's ever wanted, ever needed.

Once, she had not believed in love. Once, she had thought there to be only monsters in men's clothing, no knights in shining armor. Once, she had not believed in anything at all. But Jon had changed that, Jon had proven her wrong. In him she had found love, had found what it felt like to be safe. Truly and utterly safe. For the first time since she had left Winterfell all those years ago, she felt loved. Protected. Wanted. "I love you, too," she whispers back, wondering just when she had gone from despising the touch of a man to wishing Jon might only touch her more. "Come to bed with me..." She goes on, softer still, her mouth finding his for another kiss, this one much softer, slower, but with just as much meaning.

Without waiting, he adjusts his hands upon her and rises up to his feet with her in his arms. She gives a squeak of surprise, but her arms loop his neck seconds later, securing her place in his grasp as he crosses the room towards her bed, which as they approach, Ghost relinquishes his place upon it, taking up the rug before the hearth instead. He deposits her into her bed and only once he's kicked off his shoes does he slide into place beside her. He turns onto his side and she slips into place, head on his chest, his arm around her as somewhere in the back of his drunken mind, he realizes just what they're doing.

He's longed for this moment for so long. To lay beside her in bed, not when she's crept into his from a nightmare, not when she needs him to hold her so she feels safe again. But so he might hold her so she knows just how loved she is, to tuck her into the space beside him and watch her sleep a peaceful sleep. This moment, more than anything, is all he's ever really wanted.

And so he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.

[ x x x ]

In the morning, he wakes before the morning call with a pounding headache, silently cursing himself for the amount of drinking he'd done the night before. As he adjusts to the waking world, he realizes, with a jolt, that it is not his bed he resides in.

Sitting himself up, Jon looks to the side and sees the sweetest of sights; Sansa, with her red hair spread out against her pillow, sleeping peacefully. And so he realizes, it was not a dream he'd had that night, but entirely real. Reaching out, he tenderly strokes her hair, wondering how a man such as himself could find happiness like this. How after all he's done, he could find love in a woman such as her. Smiling to himself, Jon leans over her, just to press a soft kiss to her temple; she stirs, but does not wake, rather she shifts a bit closer to where he sits beside her, as if even in her sleep she needs to be near him. It pains him to do so, but he knows he must slip away, for it would be no time at all before one of her maids or Brienne appear to wake her and prepare her for the day at hand.

And so he slides free from the furs and stuffs his feet back into his discarded boots, sparing her a single glance before he's gone from her rooms. But for the rest of the day, he won't forget that feeling of waking up at her side.

It carries him through the long hours of war meetings, it carries him through every sharp glare from violet eyes. And every time blue eyes glance his way, he is warmed through, a secret smile never far from her lips when his eyes find hers, even from across the room.

She would always give him strength, no matter the fight that lay ahead.

[ x x x ]

He's gone to war again, but this time, it's not for a woman he loves.

In truth, Jon knew what he had to do when he got to King's Landing, he knew what he must do to keep Sansa and their family safe. And so he had gone, not knowing just what would happen when he got there.

But he should have known, he should have known that Daenerys would not stop until she had everything she wanted. Once again, he is the Northern fool, and innocent people must pay the price for it.

And when they're standing together in the crumbling ruins of the Red Keep, the Iron Throne just behind them, he's sick with what he's seen. Sick with what she's done to get to where she stands right then, right there. "Break the wheel with me," she's whispering, violet eyes pleading with his, her lips wobbling as she smiles for him.

When she kisses him, Jon plunges his dagger into her chest. As the light fades from her eyes, Jon knows he's done right by the realm, by his family. This was for them, this was for Sansa; he had once vowed to protect her and he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. Even shed the blood of his own kin.

Her soldiers come not much later and though they take him in chains, he knows it was worth whatever price he must pay.

[ x x x ]

In the end, he is freed from his dungeon and trades his chains for a crown.

They call him the King that Saved Them All, the King of Wolves, the White Wolf of Winterfell. In the streets of King's Landing, they cheer for him, the man that saved them from the tyranny of another Targaryen rule. And they cheer for her- they cheer for the young woman they once thought they might call queen, but to another man. They sing her praises and blow her kisses, not that he blames them, for she is easy to love. It's at her recommendation that the town be rebuilt before the Red Keep and she is beloved for that. They will remember that for all of their lives. As will he.

In that moment, Jon finds himself occupying a room that was not demolished in the fall of the Red Keep. Though he plans to return North quite soon with Sansa so he might witness her coronation as Queen in the North, they have yet to leave, for she insists they stay until all of the plans on the rebuilding of the town are set into place. Just as she oversaw the preparations for the survival of Winterfell and the North against the Night King, she oversees the plans for the rebuild without fail, speaking her mind without fear. There was not a single person in King's Landing who did not speak against her.

The door opens and as if his thoughts have summoned her, she's coming into the room, her red hair twisted back in braids. She has traded in her thick, woolen Northern gowns for lighter, more airy Southern sort of ones, this particular one a soft shade of sage that reminds him of spring, of what was yet to come. "I have not seen you all day, sweetheart," he observes as she sinks into the chair nearest to him. "Hard at work running my own kingdoms, are you?"

At his words she laughs, but to his surprise she shakes her head. "I was with the injured," she admits after a moment, locking her eyes with his. "I only wanted to be certain they were being well taken care of." They had maester's from all over summoned to King's Landing to care for those who had been injured in the sacking of the city. Jon blinks and without a word, rises up from where he sits to kiss her, long and slow. "What was that for?" She giggles when he pulls back, though his face remains passive, eyes never once leaving hers.

"You are too good for this world," he says softly, cupping her face with his palm, which she leans into with a slight smile. "I am undeserving of you."

To this, she shakes her head, hand sliding into place over his. "You are too hard on yourself," she muses, lacing her fingers with his as it falls from its place on her cheek. He draws her hand close to his mouth, only so he can press a kiss against the small scar that's left from the wound she received in the crypts."Besides, I am only doing what's right." She thinks of those innocent lives lost, the ones that could not be saved, and she's reminded of those lost in the crypts during the battle against the Night King. She thinks back to long ago, to the riot she had been trapped in back during Joffrey's reign, back to when she had learned the truth of what it was like to live among the townsfolk. The truth of what starvation might do to a man. No matter what, she would never let such a thing happen to these people again, and she knows Jon won't either.

"They will miss you more than they will miss me when we go North again," Jon can't help but to chuckle, but truth is, he doesn't mind. At his words, she too laughs, but she doesn't get the chance to speak before there comes a knock on the door. "Come in," Jon calls, straightening up where he stands, though his hand remains entwined with hers. The door opens and it's Brienne there, come to surely fetch her lady for yet another meeting.

"Your graces," she bows, already quick to refer to her lady as queen, though she's yet to be crowned. "They're asking for you down in the main hall, something about a visitor." Brienne speaks to Sansa, who blinks, surprise taking root, but she nods before rising up to her feet.

As she moves to step away from him, Jon catches her again by the hand, drawing her in to kiss. "When you return, I thought we might discuss what else we will do when we return North." A smile spreads over her face and she nods, giving his hand a tight squeeze before she's gone, following after Brienne to see who has come to call.

When she's gone, Jon can't help but to smile and wonder, as he does at least once everyday, how he ever got to be so lucky.

[ x x x ]

The day after her coronation as Queen in the North, they marry in the godswood.

The following day, Arya sets sail for the edge of the maps, with Gendry Baratheon at her side. They watch from the docks of White Harbor, waving goodbye as her ship disappears in the distance. "She'll be fine," Jon says as he slips his arm around her, noticing the tears that streak her cheeks as she waves goodbye to her little sister. "And she'll be back before you know it." Sansa nods, knowing it was true, Arya would return to them someday. This was not like the last time that they separated, this time, she knew her sister was alive and well. She did not have to worry if she would ever see her again. But she can't help but to feel sorrow, knowing that despite it all, their little pack was driven apart once again. And though she was Queen in the North, she knows her place is at Jon's side, and soon they would return to King's Landing for yet another coronation- this time for the both of them, a double crowning for the new King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Though the North would remain independent, they were united in marriage. After all they had done to secure Winterfell as their own, they would have to leave it again. "You know... I was thinking..." Jon's voice breaks into her thoughts and she shifts towards him, her face dry from her tears. "Once we're crowned in King's Landing... I thought we might return North."

Her surprise is evident and the look upon her face brings a laugh from his lips. "I... I don't understand. Your place is in King's Landing." She says, blinking fast, turning entirely towards him now, his arm falling from its place around her waist. "The King of the Iron Throne always remains in King's Landing."

"Aye, but I'm not the King of the Iron Throne, am I?" He shrugs, the sight of her face sending a rush of joy through him. "There is no Iron Throne left for me to be king of. And truth is, Stark men don't fair well in the South, do they?" At that, she chokes on a sound torn between a laugh and a sob. "Of course, we'll have to go from time to time, once the thaw comes... But I thought we might make a new capitol, right here in Winterfell." She throws her arms around him then, telling him all he needed to know.

"Thank you," she whispers into his ear, knowing without a doubt, it was she that was undeserving of him. Still smiling, Jon takes her by the hand and leads her back towards their horses, which were stabled nearby. And then...

He takes her home.

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #I FINALLY FINISHED SOMETHING HOLY SHIT #jon x sansa #my writing #i wrote this

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