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kit-kat-katie · 2 months

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I love you, but you love him, and he loves me

A/N: Sometimes I forget that the things that I say have a tendency to age like milk... apologies for the lack of updates and fics. I've been drowning in schoolwork since the semester started and I haven't had much of a chance to work on an extended fic like Our Time. The current plan is to have this post up for February, put up a Johanna fic in April/May, and then finish up Our Time over the summer (hopefully). Anyways, here's some Clove fluff that's a week late for Valentine's Day! :D

oh, thanks for 100 followers! I am so happy that people enjoy my content without a regular schedule. thank you so so much again!

TW: underage drinking/smoking, brief mention of weed, small fighting scene, reader is put into uncomfortable romantic situation

Pairing: Clove x GN! Reader (Rivals to Lovers in 2x speed)

Summary: You love Clove. She likes Cato. Cato likes you. Your life is a comedic love triangle until your best friend's drunken disaster causes you to connect with Clove and discover something new about her.

“On your left.”

Catelyn gives you a quick warning before flipping you on the back and slamming you against the mat. You squirm against her grip for a moment before spotting a weakness in her legs.

An opening.

You grab her leg and pull her to the ground before taking her hands and pinning them to the ground.

“Don’t count me out yet.” You sneer as she scoffs.

“Fucker.” She mumbles as a buzzer goes off in the distance.

You immediately jump off of her and offer a hand up, which Catelyn begrudgingly takes.

“Trying to impress your girl?” She raises an eyebrow before you shove her aside.

Clove’s staring at the two of you, well, just you since Catelyn’s stepped off the mat to grab a drink of water. Her eyes immediately drift off to look elsewhere as you let out a sigh.

You wish she’d look at you longer, as much as she looked at Cato.

It’s funny, in an ironic way.

You love her.

She loves him.

And he’s paused his sparring to walk over to you.

Probably to ask you on a date or to go drinking or to go do something with romantic undertones that you don’t want to do.

So he loves you.

Catelyn had egged the two of you on before realizing that you wanted nothing more than for him to leave you alone. You didn’t want to refuse Cato’s invitations - he was the choice for a Hunger Games tribute in the near future, and that’d piss off more people than your trickiness could outmaneuver.

Perhaps running through a nearby window would be the best way to avoid him?

…And he’s right in front of you.

You glance behind him, only to see Clove's jaw tighten.

Fuck.

An invite.

“That's all he wanted?” Catelyn teases as you make your way to the place where Cato always invited you after sparring practice.

It wasn't like the two of you were going to be alone. It was a tradition for the top contenders for this year's Hunger Games to engage in a few… adult activities before the Reaping occurred. This way, the two tributes shipped off could get to enjoy a little bit of adulthood before heading to the Capital.

It wasn't anything too awful, just some cheap booze and a few blunts to pass around. Any people that passed you all by would simply look the other way - who'd want to risk being harassed by a group of teenagers?

You didn't usually partake beyond a few sips from some cheap bottle of booze - someone needed to carry Catelyn home, after all.

When the two of you slip behind a pair of buildings, a few boys around Cato's age wave you over.

“Let's get this over with.” You grumble, hoping to spend this evening without uncomfortably resting in Cato's arms.

You failed.

Horrendously.

When you arrived, Cato threw an arm around you and hasn't let you go since. You're tempted to drink more so you don't remember what he's said or done, but seeing your friend nearly face plant into a campfire has you rethinking that decision.

As if matters couldn't get any worse, Clove arrived just in time to see Cato place a kiss on your cheek. She huffs before glaring at the two of you from a fair distance away.

This time, you notice, her glare isn't directed at you.

She's glaring at him.

Catelyn's barely able to stumble forward as you throw an arm around your shoulder. She excitedly points at a lamppost and tries to point at it, but she ends up falling out of your grasp and onto the barren road.

“Catelyn, c’mon,” You try to coax your friend from the ground, but she shakes her head, “We've got to get home before sunrise.”

“Nu-uh!” She slurs, face-down in the pavement.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose until you hear footsteps come from behind you.

“Need some help?”

In all of her brazen glory, your knight-in-shining-armor (a black leather jacket, a plain t-shirt, and blue jeans), Clove, offers to help.

“If you don't mind, I know you might be busy with someone else.” You quietly say as she shakes her head.

“I wanted to take a walk to clear my head, away from everyone else.” She grabs Catelyn from the ground, who whines like a petulant child, before you hoist one of Catelyn’s arms over your shoulder.

Clove does the same, and the three of you walk in silence until a biting question slips off her tongue.

“Do you like Cato?”

“Absolutely not.” The answer leaves your lips before you can refine the words with a bit more thought. “We're friends, sure, but I don't feel anything for him.”

Relief escapes her lips as she takes a deep breath out, then in. She smiles, as do you in return.

“Good, good. I was worried that you were into him.”

“Why?” You stop, which causes Clove to stop.

“I thought- I thought I liked him, but I saw him kissing you and… I didn't like how it made me feel.” She blushes at her honesty as you bite your lip.

“If you like him, Clove, you can have him. I certainly don't want him.”

She harshly laughs before turning to look at you.

“Don't you get it? All of those times that I saw you two together, I thought I was jealous of you. Today, after seeing him draped over you, I realized that I'm jealous of him.”

Her confession leaves you breathless as you pause to consider her words.

She… likes me.

“Clove, I…” It's your turn to get nervous as you try to meet Clove’s unwavering gaze. “I really, really like you too.”

Catelyn, in a moment of drunken clarity, lifts her head up to look at the both of you before loudly sighing.

“Just kiss already, you idiots!” She lets go of the both of you to (not-so) gracefully fall on the ground as your arm finds its way around her.

You lean in to kiss her, before pausing.

“Is this okay?” You mumble, centimeters away from her lips.

A mischievous smile slips onto her face as she answers by kissing you back.

You wouldn't have many nights like this again, but this night would always be special to you.

#fanfic #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfic #the hunger games fluff #the hunger games x reader #x reader #clove kentwell fluff #clove kentwell fanfic #clove kentwell x reader #clove kentwell

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hazywrites · 10 months

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A Stark Christmas

Pairing: Robb Stark x Reader

Summary: It's your first time helping your boyfriend and his family pick out a Christmas tree, and he is very opinionated on the matter.

Warnings: Mentions of death of a family member

Words: 1,297

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47295508

AN: Hi my lovelies! I found this draft sitting on my computer untouched, and I really miss the holidays about now so I thought I'd share! This is my first time writing for Robb, but I hope you all like it. Please let me know what you think and if you'd like more holiday preferences for the GoT boys! As always, thank you for reading!

You were currently squeezed in the middle row of the Starks’ van. Sansa was seated to your right and Arya to your left, with Nymeria between her spread legs. The arrangement left you with barely any room for your own legs, so you kicked them up onto the center console and watched as the hyperactive husky jumped onto her owner’s lap, licking Arya’s face frantically and then smushing her nose against the window until someone rolled it down for her. Sansa was busying herself trying to get the perfect angle to take a group selfie. She looked lovely in all of them, and you tried to help by striking a cute pose or two, but Arya’s side of the picture came out blurry each time due to her constant movement. Sansa settled for cropping her younger sister out of the picture, posting only the two of you to Instagram with a myriad of holiday-related hashtags. You heard Theon begrudgingly breaking up a fight between Rickon and Bran in the back row. Suddenly, you felt a ticklish sensation on the bottom of your foot and shrieked, kicking your legs so much that Nymeria got excited and jumped at you as your boyfriend, Robb, looked back at you with a devilish laugh.

“How are you liking your first Stark Christmas?” He asked from the passenger seat. You rolled your eyes.

“I love it! I liked the part where we finally arrived at our destination.” He laughed at your sarcasm.

“We are a proud family. We don’t go to Home Depot-“ he scrunched his nose as he said the words, “for our Christmas trees. If you’re going to marry me one day you gotta get with the traditions.” He said it so casually, but your stomach erupted with butterflies. You two had been dating for a year and had never talked about marriage before. You were still a bit young to be thinking about it, but just the thought that Robb saw you in his future filled you with warmth. His half-brother, Jon, also seemed to pick up on Robb’s slip-up, teasing him about it for the rest of the drive. Robb just puffed out his chest and proudly doubled down on his statement, but you spotted the faintest hint of pink on his cheeks.

When you finally arrived, Arya and the younger Stark boys had taken to chasing Nymeria through the tree lot, Jon trailing behind to make sure they didn’t get into too much trouble, while Theon tried to impress Sansa by identifying the types of pine. It was an unspoken arrangement that Robb would be choosing the Christmas tree this year. Ever since his father, Ned, had passed, the family looked to him as the man of the house. Catelyn hadn’t even had the energy to come tree shopping this year. It inspired you the way the Stark children were keeping their spirits up and keeping their traditions alive. You just worried about your boyfriend, having to be the ‘strong’ one all the time. You squeezed his hand reassuringly and he smiled, leaning over to give you a quick kiss as you two looked along the rows of trees.

“I don’t know the first thing about tree shopping,” you confessed. You’d mostly said it to distract him, but it seemed to have worked. The spacey look in his eyes was replaced by a playful, judgey one.

“Yeah, they don’t teach you that on Amazon, do they?” He unconsciously raised his left eyebrow as he spoke, a quirk you loved about him.

“It was one time,” you groaned.

“A white, plastic Christmas tree,” he recalled with disgust. “Wasn’t it one of the mini ones, too?”

“My dorm has mandates on that sort of thing,” you whined. “A real tree is a fire hazard.”

“A fake tree is a relationship hazard,” he quipped. “No girlfriend of mine gets—“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” you shoved your gloved hand over his mouth, earning your palm a bite that made you yelp and drop your hand in turn. “Show me how to choose a good tree.” The corners of his lips wobbled slightly, but you watched him try to keep his expression straight.

“I don’t know,” he confessed softly. “My dad used to go on and on about it but I never really paid attention. I didn’t think I’d have to do it on my own so soon.” The winter breeze carried his last words away, a whisper floating between rows of silent pines.

“You’re not alone,” you reminded him. “You’ve got your brothers and sisters, and Theon, and your mom… and me.” You focused on the button of his jacket as you said that last part. You didn’t know if it was presumptuous to count yourself in with his family, but you’d meant it. You wanted him to know he wasn’t alone. That you were there for him. Cold gloved fingers gripped your chin and raised your gaze to meet his ocean blue eyes.

“I know that, love,” he said. For a moment, you did nothing but look at each other. His eyes, his expression was so open. It was the most vulnerable moment you two had shared, yet not a word was spoken. You dared not breathe, afraid he would close himself off again. But he didn’t. He just looked at you, speaking with his eyes.

‘I love you,’ you thought as hard as you could. ‘I’m in love with you.’

Then slowly, he leaned in, his hands slipping into your hair. Your eyelids fluttered shut instinctively; your heartbeat quickened as your icy lips met his soft, warm ones. How did he always feel so warm? You felt the blood rushing to your cheeks as Robb kissed you slowly, so slowly. His soft lips brushing your own made you feel dizzy and lit a fire inside you at the same time. Even a year in, he still made you so nervous.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close. You couldn’t think of anything else. Just the feeling of him gently sucking on your lower lip and releasing it. His breath fanning your face as he sighed out. Your heart was so full of him you could burst. His hands on your waist, his eyes shut, his forehead leaning against yours for just a second before he slowly opened his eyes.

“I love you, Y/N,” he breathed softly.

“I love you,” you whispered back.

One look at your face and he was kissing you again, his lips fervently locking with your own. You reached up to caress his face but he caught your hand, cradling it against his chest.

“Hey, GET A ROOM!” Theon’s voice called out from behind you. Jon’s deep laugh followed.

“There’s children here you know! Did they even pick out a tree?!” He asked, earning more laughter from Theon. Robb groaned and your eyes fluttered open in time to watch him flip them off.

“Yeah, that one,” he gestured with his head to the tree closest to you. His eyes never left your face as you turned to look at it. It was crooked, and short, with uneven branches that drooped low. You were no tree expert, but even you could tell it was quite ugly.

“That one?” You asked, eyes widening. “Are you sure, because I know Christmas trees are super important to you, and—“

“Shut up, Y/N,” he murmured, pulling you in for another kiss that left you weak at the knees. Catelyn had raised an eyebrow when you all arrived home and presented her with Robb’s tree choice, but you had all been so busy laughing and decorating and watching films and baking that Christmas that somehow, that ugly little tree became the most perfect thing you could imagine.

#robb stark x reader #robb stark x you #robb stark/reader #robb stark/you #robb stark imagine #robb stark drabble #robb stark fic #robb stark fanfic #fluff

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sasagehoes · 6 days

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THE NECROMANCER

Chapter I; Adventus𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Brandon Star x fem! reader

𓅨˚₊‧⁺⋆♱;; Leaving home to escape a fate worse than death was ideal, yet is it really worth all the pain and suffering that'll come from that decision instead?

masterlist | series masterlist

next chapter

a/n; Hello! This is my first time publishing here on tumblr, I'm really exited to start this series, I hope people enjoy it! (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡ [English is not my mother tongue so please be patient]

CW; This series contains a LOT of sensitive topics. Just like the show, there will be individual warnings for each chapter, I'm not responsible for what you read.

Mentions of rape/ arranged marriage/ child abuse/ graphic depictions of gore / it's a GOT story..Just be prepared for the worst

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

The winds of Winterfell were as cold as ever when Lady Stark received a crow with a message attached.

The seal being from a house in Braavos, House Corvus, inside this letter, there was a betrothal proposal, the youngest daughter of their house to Winterfell's second youngest, Brandon Stark.

"I feel it could be a great advantage to join the two houses, our connections to lands in Essos are little if not unexistent" Said Catelyn Stark.

Lord Stark sighed. "I'll speak with Brandon. See what he says." She nodded and went outside to see her boys practicing archery.. one failing a bit miserably.

Eddard thought this would be a great opportunity to talk to Bran about the situation right after slaughtering a bear!

𓅨˚₊‧⁺⋆♱

"Bran, have you heard of house Corvus perchance?" he asked, looking at him. Brandon thought for a second,"I think I might have, but it's located in Braavos, so I don't know much." He answered

Lord Stark nodded "Well we got word from them today, a crow brought a letter" the younger hummed with curiosity, "A marriage proposal, to wed you and their youngest daughter, once the both of you become of age" he continued.

Bran's eyes went wide and stopped walking. "What if I say no? I've never even heard of them that well, even less of their daughter!" he spoke clearly distraught.

"We have some time to decide, and you can always say no if you meet her and end up not liking her, but just think about the things Winterfell can benefit from this union"

His father added. Bran didn't respond and just kept walking, making his father sigh

𓅨˚₊‧⁺⋆♱

"Robb, do me a favor, could you?"

he asked as he saw his oldest walking around the estate. "Everything okay, father?" he answered

"Everything is alright. I'm sure your mother told you about the marriage proposal for Brandon. Could you go talk to him ?"

Robb chuckled and replied, "He's not very fond of the idea, hm? I'll go talk with him" and left to go look for him.

𓅨˚₊‧⁺⋆♱

The eldest Stark walked around the halls looking for his little brother just as he spotted him, sitting on the floor, the younger said

"You're here to convince me about marrying some stranger, aren't you?"

Robb sighed as he sat on the floor next to his brother

"Yes I am, Bran, listen, if it were different people, they wouldn't have told you until she was on our doorstep," he said before continuing

"And if what I have heard about the women of bravos is true, you might want to accept that proposal," he said with a grinn

with that Bran looked up at him "what have you heard" he said

"Why dont you go ask Theon, yes?"

𓅨˚₊‧⁺⋆♱

"They say if you marry a Bravoosi woman you might be the luckiest or most doomed bastard in the seven kingdoms " Theon said with a smirk

Brandon's eyes shined with curiosity

"Why so?" he asked

"The women of Braavos have beautiful dark hair that shine with the sun, and although their climate is humid and cold they have sun kissed skin"

Robb said making Bran smile ever so slightly.

Theon joined in "I've heard that their hips are made to bear healthy heirs, broad and we'll rounded hips, perfect for grabbing in the midst of-" he stopped to chuckle once he noticed Bran's flushed cheeks

"You'll cross the bridge when you get there"

"But why would I be a doomed bastard?" Brandon asked awkwardly

"She'd leave you dry - ouch!" Theon said before getting cut off by Catelyn hitting the back of his head

"Don't fill his head with scum. He's far too young!" she said, which only made the oldest laugh

"He'll be a man soon enough," Robb said, ruffling Bran's hair before leaving, Theon by his side.

"Off you go, little man, go to your lessons with maester Luwin," Lady Stark said, and the boy complied with a small pout.

₊ ⊹𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐒𝐞𝐚₊ ⊹

The winds started to get rather cold at sea, you had expected that since it was indeed the north where your betrothed lived

he was your chance at living a life without the fear of getting murdered by your own people for something that was out of your control.

The boat was filled with an indescribable emptiness, the spirits were low, you wanted to be left alone, still processing everything that had happened.

your mother had instructed that no man except for the Maester boarded the ship for you and your sister's safety. Yet not many wanted to embark the journey fearing of what would happen once they returned, only a few of the remaining loyal helpers of your mother accompanied you and your sister.

It had been weeks since you fled the castle, weeks since you heard the news of the death of your sister, weeks since you heard the voice of your brother.

you sat on your cabin looking at the floor, as your mind trailed to cries of your older brother, screaming at our father

"How could you let that happen to your daughter!" he screamed

"It was the best for the kingdom," your father said stoic in his throne. Your brother stood up and walked over to him. "She was raped! Then she took! her own life! how was that the best for the kingdom, you just let it happen?!!"

"Are you alright?" A voice took you out of your trance, your sister

you looked up at her and smiled

"Yes, of course" you said

she took your hand in hers and made you go up to the deck, "We are almost there.. Just two more days and you'll be safe," she said, holding your shoulders

you stared at her eyes, as tears started to well on yours. "What about you - will you be safe?" you say trough sobs she squeezed your shoulders "I will I,promise" she grinned but you knew, her eyes betrayed her.

It was only a matter of time before everyone knew that the necromeancers of Bravoos were back.

𓅨

When I woke up, my sister was standing next to my bed. "We have arrived dear, winter awaits" she said gently.

As she left, I stood up and went to look for the attire, I lingered infront of my trunk for a couple of seconds before deciding on the dress I would wear, I hadn't really thought much about it, while leaving Braavos, the only thing in my mind was not getting killed. Yet now that I looked at it - it's not very suitable for the weather in Winterfell

It's not so different to Braavos, but unlike there, the cold weather is not constant, the warm weather is enjoyed and well as the cold

,here, however, no matter how hard you try, the reminder that you're so far up north you feel it in your nails.

And although the winter has yet to come, the cold air fills your lungs and it stays, and it burns, and it won't come out until it is you that gets used to it, used to the cold.

You left your cabin all dressed up and were met with your sister and the Maester. On the deck packing some stuff, on your far left you could see some men proudly holding the banner of their house.

A direwolf decorates them, the animal of their house flowing with the wind as they get closer. You could make out what you guessed was the lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark, from what you've heard.

They stopped as they waited to take you and your sister to Castle Ward, where you would be spending your life once you become of age.

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Thank you so much for getting this far, can't wait to continue this series!! If you'd like to be added to the taglist,let me know ♥︎

(っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡

DO NOT;; RE-UPLOAD, TRANSLATE NOR COPY MY WORKS!!

This belongs to;;

-SASAGEHOES

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kaleidoscopewritings19 · 2 years

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“The Death of a Bastard” Series (Part 5 of?)

Title: “The Queen’s Wandering Eye” PART 5

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4

Pairing: Jon Snow x Reader

Warnings: NONE

Summary: The reader is the first to find Jon Snow’s lifeless body. She has to flee away from Castle Black and go back to her home, Rivendell. She reminisces, and remembers how she met her “Snow”, and fell in love with him. But she was promised to his half brother, Robb. Mostly based around how they met, and what in between their meeting and his death.

The dress your father had sent, definitely sent chills up your spine, and goosebumps covered you arms. But the blue of the dress complimented your skin tone; it adorned your skin in the best way.

The jewels that were connected to the dress, rested on your bare skin, causing you to shiver. Sansa was the first one to see you in it, and she couldn’t help but to run her fingers along the fabric.

“You look beautiful. I wish my mother would allow me to wear something like this.” She said and Catelyn gave you a small smile, “Hopefully you don’t freeze.” She said simply.

When Robb saw you, he couldn’t help but to touch your bare shoulder and offer you his cloak. “You look beautiful. That color looks beautiful on you.” He said as he pressed a kiss to your hair. “When we are to marry, I want you in this dress…” he said before he left your side.

But when Jon seen you, his opinion was the only one that mattered. Jon’s thoughts raced through his mind like a herd of wild colts; his breath was caught in his throat. When he approached you, he was tongue tied.

“Y/N… Y/N, you look wonderful l-.” He whispered as he looked you up and down. “I need to see you tonight. I’ll meet you in your room.” He said before he let you answer. After he left your side, Robb came back, only to escort you down to meet the King and the Queen. “They arrived while you were getting ready.” Robb said as he helped you down the stairs.

King Robert and Queen Cersei stood there in front of the castle, “King Robert, Queen Cersei, this is Princess Y/N of Rivendell, daughter of King Elrond of Rivendell.” Ned introduced you and Robert eyed you with a smile. But you bowed, just like your handmaiden told you to do.

But Queen Cersei had an eyebrow raised, “I didn’t know there were other royals within the seven kingdoms. The royals that are, are against the throne.” She said and her husband shot her a look.

“Woman, it is fine. Her father promised Ned an army whenever he needed it. He’s an ally, and so is she. She is promised to Ned’s boy, Robb. Therefore, they are trustworthy.” He said as Cersei continued to stare at you in disapproval.

“This must be a change for you, m’lady.” Robert said as he looked at your attire. “Go from the heat to this cold hell.” He said with a laugh that erupted from his belly. “Yes, my King. It is quite a change, but it is worth it to be with Lord Stark and his family.” You replied and Catelyn gave you a smile.

Robert turned to face Ned, and Robb escorted you away from the King and Queen. “That went fairly well.” You say as you looked over your shoulder. The queen continued to watch you walk away with your future husband.

Robb smiled, “Cersei has finally met her match when it comes to beauty.” He said and it made you smile.

“I’m glad I wasn’t the only one to see her eyes follow every move I made.” You say quietly as he helped you up the stairs. “I thought you’d want to come and grab your cloak, and we can go for a walk.” Robb said. You picked your cloak off your bed, and went for a walk with Robb until it was time for the feast.

_______

When it was time for the feast, you were sat next to Robb and the rest of the “royal” children. But Jon was sat with the squires; alone, left with a cup of wine in his hand.

His eyes never left you, and your eyes never left him. “Well aren’t you a beauty.” Cersei said pulling you out of your trance. “The Elven people are beautiful people.” She said as she sat down next to you. Cersei touched the skin of your cheek, “As a child, I believed it was all lies. But as I sit here next to you, there is truth behind the Elven stories. You truly are beautiful.”

Robb sat back and watched the interaction between the two of you. “I imagine you two will have beautiful babies. His blue eyes, with the perfect Elven skin…” she began, “Maybe one of my grandchildren will be able to marry one of your children.” She said and you smiled.

“Maybe.” You replied and she pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “What is your age, my child?” She asked and you replied, “18, my Queen.”

Cersei smiled as she drank the wine from her cup. “Are you use to having all eyes on you?” She asked and you shook your head. The cold Queen sat her cup down and leaned closer to you.

“Relish in the fact you captivate men’s attention. Because once you’re married, there’s a chance that your husband won’t look at you like that anymore.” She said as she took another drink. “Then he will have whores, and you’ll just be there at his disposal.” She said and Robb moved forward like he was going to lunge.

“Excuse me my Queen, but I wouldn’t dare treat Y/N like a common whore. I am to love her. Always.” He said and the Queen chuckled. “Just wait until her beauty fades, my young lord. Then you will surely change your mind.” She said as she sauntered away back to her husband.

“If you don’t mind my lord, I think I shall call it a night.” You say as walk around the table towards him. You leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry about coming to my room tonight. I don’t want us to get in trouble.” You say as you pressed a kiss to the shell of his ear.

After bidding adieu to the King, Queen, Lord Stark, and Lady Stark, you left the big room, and all eyes followed you out.

————

When you got up to your room, you slipped off your shoes. As soon as you kicked them off your feet, there was a knock at the door.

Jon entered your room and quickly shut the door and barred it shut. “Jon, what are you—?”

He grabbed both sides of your face and kissed your lips. It was needy, you mashed your lips against his. You could feel the stubble that was growing back on his face against your cheek.

To be continued………

——————

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, just an FYI, there will be SMUT in the next part. 18+ ONLY. DNI On the next chapter, please and thank you.

TAGLIST:

@orbitingdylan @bekky06 @lexxpexx @sarcasm-n-insomnia @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere

#jon snow smut #jon snow x reader #jon snow #aegon targaryen #house lannister #house stark #house targaryen #winter is coming #winterfell #brandon stark #sansa stark #sansa and arya #arya strak #robb stark x reader #robb stark x y/n #robb stark #dire wolves #dire wolf #seven kingdoms

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the-dendrophile-bookdragon · 1 year

Text

Block in the Road

Pairing: Robb Stark x fem!werewolf!reader

Warning: forbidden love, a lot of anger, angst

Summary: Robb can't hide his feelings for you.

Wolfsbane Masterlist

Robb all but sprinted down to the great hall. He ran past servants carrying more food, drinks and festive decorations. He got some weird looks which he ignored.

His father sat at one of the tables. Scrolls lay scattered around him as he worked. “Father, could we talk?” Ned looked up and pointed at a seat next to him. Robb sat down and waited for his father to begin the conversation. “We should wait for your mother. I value her opinions very much.”

Robb’s nervousness increased as his father told him his mother would join them. He knew he had to talk to his mother, but he thought his father gave him his blessing before telling his mother the news. The young Stark had the feeling his father knew his intention even if he didn’t say them out loud.

Both Stark men didn’t have to wait long for the Stark matriarch. She floated into the hall in all her Tully glory. She had a soft smile on her lips which widened the minute she saw her eldest son. Robb stood up and offered his seat to his mother. She thanked him by kissing his cheek. “What do both of you have to talk about where you need my humble opinion?” Ned scoffed at his wife’s self-critical joke. “Your opinions are very much valued my dear.”

Ned took his wife’s hand gingerly and kissed the back of it softly. Robb watch the interaction between his parents, wishing this kind of love for himself. “Robb has a request for both of us.” The man’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead. He stammered around the topic till his father put his hand on his shoulder to stop him. “The young woman traveling with him from the wolve village. He has feelings for her.”

Catelyn was quiet for a long time. She had a faraway look on her face. Robb’s nerves went haywire. He fidgeted in his seat till his mother turned to his father. “I don’t think it is a good idea. She is the daughter of a lower bannerman. It won’t be wise.”

Robb opened his mouth to protest his mother, “But Sansa is promised to the oldest son of King Robert. We will be second in Westeros after her union!” Ned turned to his upset son. He put his hand on his shoulder to calm him. Robb would have felt the reassurance if his father wouldn't take his mother's side. “This isn’t fair!” Both his parent's sight at his outburst. They understood him but they knew of the burden of a highborn.

Catelyn looked at her son with a sympathetic look, “Forget her, my son. And try to stay away from her. Maybe the feeling you believe to have will fly away faster.” Robb smacked his hand on the top of the table. His face was contoured in rage. He stood up without a word and rushed out of the great hall.

Catelyn turned to her husband. Their hands were intervened tightly. “Did we do the right thing?” Ned sighted deeply. “Only time will tell. But I hope we did the right thing.”

You walked around the courtyard watching the people doing their chores. You saw a young girl holding a stick in front of her. In front of her one of Robb’s companions, Jon. You watched them dance around each other. The young girl clumsily danced around with her training sword. Sometimes she would sight in annoyance when the older boy would hit her.

You walked on and saw a young girl with hair as red as embers sit and sow with a septa next to her. She seemed to be engrossed into her work. But as if she could feel the gaze on her she looked up. Ice blue eyes seemed to stare into your soul. She laid down her needle work and turned to the septa. The older woman nodded before packing everything and walking inside. The girl walked over to you.

She stopped a few meters away from you to have a better look. “Who are you?” Before you even opened your lips to tell her your origin the ward of the North booming voice rescued you. “Sansa, let us feast in the great hall. We must welcome our guest into our home.

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#robb stark imagine #robb stark fanfic #robb stark fic #robb stark fanfiction #robb stark x reader #robb stark x y/n #robb stark x you #robb stark #wolfesbane

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indigoraysoflight · 8 months

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29 nedcat 💓

Hey nonny, here you go <3

29. childhood friends

She had to stop smiling at him. Her cheeks hurt, and he most definitely thought she was being a weirdo now. It had only been a couple of hours; it was too early to break the weird meter.

When she saw him emerge through the double doors of the event hall at their high school reunion, she recognized him instantly. His jet-black hair was tucked behind his ears, and his warm grey eyes searched for any face he could remember. Then his eyes locked with hers across the room, and he granted her his rare true smile.

Ned.

A thrill that lay dormant within her for 20 years crashed against her and rippled through her. A smile tugged at her face, and Catelyn couldn't stop herself from jogging up to him and hugging him tightly. They spoke to each other almost exclusively for an hour, retracing their steps and catching up.

He'd joined his father's firm and adopted his sister's son - Jon - after she passed away in an accident a few years ago. He moved to Riverrun with his son a few months ago to diversify their business in the south. Catelyn told him of Brienne - the girl she was adopting after fostering her for a few years. They'd swapped their life stories and reminisced until he leaned in and asked, want to see if that drive-in theater is still open?

Now she was sitting in his car with a smile plastered on her face with the two triple thick chocolate milkshakes and one greasy pepperoni pizza watching him run into her favourite bakery to see if they had any lemon cakes left at the end of the day.

He walked out with a big smile and held up a brown paper box. "SUCCESS!"

"My hero," Catelyn giggled before she could stop herself. "That's not- I mean. That's nice. Thank you."

My hero? Really Catelyn, can you try to be subtle? She laughed nervously and looked away as the flush in her cheeks got worse. She wanted to throw herself out of the car and hide. It was bad enough that she'd spent all evening ogling at his chiseled jawline and broad shoulders, but now she had to act like a lovesick teenager too.

"I dunno if it's me being a hero or simply outrunning that old man who looked pissed that I got the last lemon cake." His voice rumbled through her as they drove to the late show of When Harry Met Sally.

"Are you saying you'd fight an old man to get me lemon cakes, Ned Stark?"

"Absolutely." The utter seriousness in his voice made her laugh.

That laughter melted into a deep-seated longing within her as soon as the movie began. Catelyn didn't know if it was the movie they'd watched in this drive-in theater at least ten times in high school, the fact that he'd almost dueled an old man for pastries, or that he was here. Ned. Older, wiser, and rougher around the edges - but he was still Ned.

Her Ned - who would stay up late to help her study for her English exams, bought pastries for her every Friday with his allowance, held her through the grief of losing her mother, and brought a new flower for her from his visit to Winterfell each summer. The boy she'd been in love with for as long as she could remember. Her first love, first kiss, first - everything. The one that got away when they had no choice but to part ways after high school because he moved back home to Winterfell, and she went back to Riverrun.

Billy Crystal's face on the screen blurred in her eyes. It was Ned's calloused thumb brushing the tear on her cheek that moved her gaze to him. His eyes had been on her - she didn't know for how long.

"I've missed you so much," his voice was thick with everything she wanted to say to him.

"Are you... will you....do you.." Are you staying? Will you leave again? I can't lose you again....she trailed off not knowing how to form the words to express what she meant.

"I'm here to stay." His thumb brushed against her jawline, and his eyes fixed on her lips.

"Good." Catelyn's eyes dropped to his lips.

In the background, Harry started his famous monologue as the movie approached its happy ending.

She didn't know which one of them closed the gap, but when Ned Stark's lips collided against her own - Catelyn Tully was home.

"...I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of the life to start as soon as possible."

#the last part is from Harry met Sally if you haven't watched the movie #highly recommend checking out the monologue if you havent watched the whole movie it's cute #ned x cat #writing prompts #anon ask #my fics #ned x cat short fics

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welldonebeca · 11 months

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The King's Wives (XIII)

WC: 1.4k words Warnings: Fluff. Emotional fluff.

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Masterlist

Sansa woke up with the door being opened by her side, and sat up in a bit of a startle when she realised this wasn’t her bedroom.

“Sansa?” her mother called.

She frowned, where-

Oh. She was in Princess Asha’s bedroom.

Oh, her dress!

“Mother!” she exclaimed.

“Don’t stress yourself, Sansa,” her mother assured her. “It’s early. Everything is alright.”

She looked outside, and the sun had barely peaked over the sea horizon.

“I believe Princess Asha would like to have her bed back,” she suggested.

She stood up, quickly gathering herself, a little embarrassed about how well she had slept - Princess Asha was right, her bed was very comfortable - and followed her mother out of the room with her covers around her body, finding Asha waiting outside with a grumpy look on her face.

"Have a nice wedding," she grunted, dragging herself into the room, and slamming the door closed behind her.

Oh, no.

Was she upset?

"Don't mind her," Princess Mya called behind her. "Asha is like a toddler, she gets moody when she stays up past her bedtime."

Princess Margaery giggled.

"I think the word you are looking for is cranky."

"Or fussy," Princess Alys added.

"I can still hear all of you!" she shouted from inside.

"Have a nice sleep, dear," Princess Margaery called out. "We'll wake you up for an afternoon lunch."

"And you," Princess Arianne waved her hand to Sansa. "Inside with you. Go get ready. You have to get married."

Finally, Catelyn pulled Sansa along into her room, and the wives waved her goodbye as they walked to their own rooms, looking tired.

"Jeyne, go get my lady is waiting," her mother called. "At least one person needs to be fully awake here."

Her mother sat down quickly as Jeyne walked out, and Sansa frowned at her. She looked so tired, and after such a long trip!

"Are you sure you don't want to sleep?" she asked. "I can get ready on my own, and you-"

"I have stayed awake for three days and four nights when you were small and ill, my sweet girl," she reminded her, her warm hand coming to rest on Sansa's cheek. "I believe I can stay longer to help you and see you get married."

Sansa smiled, and she kissed her temple before walking to her dresser, taking a comb and ties, and she stood still as she brushed her hair down and moved to braid it as she had done so many times before when Sansa was a child and couldn't reach her own hair.

"It's how I had my hair when I married your father," she told her softly. "I remember practising and practising my braids for a long time. Northern braids, to honour him. Lysa always joked that I was doing it so much that one day my hair and my hands would be stuck together like that."

Sansa smiled. Her mother always tried to be a good lady of the North.

"I practised it when I was coming here to you too," she braided her side carefully, and chuckled, amused. "Every day, on any lady who happened to be riding in my carriage. Even on Arya, the day before I left."

Sansa giggled.

"I bet she hated it."

Arya was always much more into practical styles.

"She did," her mother agreed. "But she didn't stop me or try to run away. She wants you to have, and she said it herself, your hair as perfect as possible."

Sansa smiled at the thought of her sister. She would see her soon enough once she was married, Jon wouldn't deny her such a request.

She had to get her a gift, and one for the boys too.

Catelyn's handmade came in just as she was finishing her hair, bringing her a tray of fruits and tea.

"Come eat," her mother pinned her hair. "We have time before your father comes to take us."

Sansa nodded, and Jeyne was quick to serve her as her mother did her own hair, with a little bit of help.

"Are you nervous?" Jeyne asked in a little whisper.

Sansa stopped mid-biting her strawberry, looking at her friend. She had been, especially last night. But now all she felt was calm.

"No," she decided. "No, I'm not."

“Really?” she seemed surprised. “Most women at least feel a little nervous”

Sansa shrugged.

“But I’m not,” she repeated. “Because… well, it’s Jon I’m marrying.”

Jeyne tiled her face, looking at Sansa in complete awe.

“You really think he is the one?” she asked. “The real love of your life? Your soulmate?”

She smiled, relaxed and a little bit smitten.

“I do,” she agreed. “I really do.”

Her friend’s eyes brighten up with tears.

“I’m so happy that you are happy,” she affirmed.

Sansa took her hands, kissing her knuckles affectionately. Maybe now that they were in King’s Landing, in such a large town, Jeyne would meet someone and find love.

They finished eating together after that, and her mother ate along after dressing up, ready so quickly that it surprised Sansa.

“Why such a simple dress?” she asked, surprised.

Her mother was always beautiful, but her dress was such a simple piece, as if she was trying to downplay that.

“It’s your wedding,” she pointed out. “You must shine. I’m just there to see you.”

“Oh!” Jeyne suddenly stood up. “Wait.”

She rushed out of her way and carried a box in her direction, setting it down.

“His Majesty had this done for you, as a surprise,” she explained, opening the lid, and pulled something from inside. “As a surprise.”

Sansa’s eyes widened when she saw a crown of blue roses in her hand, almost glimmering under the growing light coming out of her window.

She felt herself tearing up, moving a hand to her face, and her mother rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Breath in, dear,” she instructed softly. “You don’t want your eyes puffy.”

Sansa nodded, taking deep breaths. She was right, the last thing she wanted was to look like she had been crying before her wedding.

“My lady,” her mother's handmaiden called. “It’s almost time. Lady Sansa should get dressed.”

Her mother nodded in agreement, and Sansa finished with her tea before standing up.

Soon, she was undressed and cleaned up, and Jeyne put rose oil on little points of her neck, wrist and behind her knee before helping her dress up, all with new pieces for her to wear under, and her mother finally brought her dress for Sansa to put on.

And it was perfect.

Gone were the shortened sleeves, and the fur she had started to sew before the other wives now covered the inside of her sleeves. Her short tray was back, and her neckline was brought down the slightest bit, and the front of her blue dress was once again decorated with her wolf clasps.

Her room fell into quietness as she finished dressing up, and soon, she was dressed and adorned with jewellery she had spent months choosing, though giving up on her necklace so not to have it clashing with her flower crown.

There was a knock on the door before Jeyne put on her crown, and her mother’s handmaiden was quick to go check on who it was, giving space for her father to step inside.

Sansa stood up when his eyes fell on her, and smiled at the shocked look on his face.

“Gods,” her father exhaled. “You look beautiful.”

He put a hand on his mouth for a moment, with emotion flashing in his eyes, though he kept his face a little hard, never a man too emotional.

"I remember when you were a small girl playing with dolls," he affirmed, looking a her face. “And look at you now.”

She smiled, and her mother walked to his side, holding her crown, and showed it to him.

“I think you should be the one putting this on her,” she told him.

His eyes fell on the flowers as he took them, breathing in, and Sansa’s could see his eyes filling up with tears before he blinked them away, quietly recomposing.

“Of course,” he confirmed in a soft whisper.

Sansa stood up as he walked to her, and bent a little so he could crown her, raising her eyes to his face once she felt his hand moving down to her face, cradling her cheek.

There were many feeling behind his grey eyes, and while Sansa couldn’t understand all of them, she understood the love in his gaze.

“You look like a Queen,” he affirmed, his voice sweet and soft, and only she could hear him. “A beautiful queen.”

She smiled, and he caressed her cheek.

“Jon is a very lucky man,” he affirmed. “He’ll make you very happy.”

“I know, father,” she smiled.

He nodded, and took her hand, kissing her palm before taking a deep breath.

“Let’s go now,” he spoke softly. “Jon is waiting for us in the Godswood.”

. . .

"The King's Wives" was posted on my Patreon back on June! To read the full story before anyone else and have early access to all of my works, including the sequels, subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month!

. . .

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#The King's Wives series #jon snow x sansa stark fanfiction #jon snow #jon snow x sansa stark #jon snow smut #jonsa #jonsa fic #jonsa fluff #catelyn stark

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samieree · 7 months

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Dawn of the North || Robb Stark

Robb Stark x OC

-> Chapter VI "First Step"

Chapter VII "Mutual happiness" [+18]

For the next few days, Amy was very careful not to run into Robb or - worse - Lady Stark. She was very careful not to accidentally get in sight of either of them while she was outside talking to someone.

However, it wasn’t easy for her to forget what had happened. Whenever she looked at her lips in the mirror or accidentally touched them, she remembered the moment of the kiss. The moment when she felt the warmth of the boy's lips on hers and how he gently cupped her face.

Sometimes she even caught herself that her cheeks were burning when she remembered it, and when she was still standing in front of the mirror, she saw how her face flushed.

Finally, she also left to break down and talk to Talisa about it. They sat together in the tent facing each other.

“Thanks.” Amy smiled slightly at her friend, taking a mug of hot tea from her. Only then Talisa sat down too, her mug in her hands, and looked at Amy seriously.

“So? What did you want to talk about?” She asked, leaning against the back of the chair.

Amy was silent for a long time, thinking how she should start about her feelings. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt, but one thing was certain for her - this boy was not indifferent to her. If he wasn't already bound by his word... She probably wouldn't have broken that kiss.

“Something... happened a few days ago.” She said finally, looking straight ahead.

“I knew you were different.” Amalthea sighed at those words. “Go ahead. Or I’m about to find out that my amputees are more talkative than you.” She wanted to lighten the atmosphere a bit with this, and she even succeeded a bit, because Amy laughed briefly, looking back at Talisa.

“He kissed me. When we were alone, after a short conversation, just like that...” She shrugged. “He did it.”

“And you...?” Talisa wanted to pull her tongue more, while a small smile had already spread across her face.

“Nothing. I mean, I cut it off after a while, because…”

“He promised another, those words have been stuck in my head all day after you said it so many times.” Saying this, Talisa put her cup of tea on the table, leaning towards her friend in the chair and grabbing her free hand with both hands. “Tell me, if he wasn't bound by any promises, would you avoid him like the plague now? Would you back away then?”

Amy looked away, sipping some tea before answering without much thought:

“No.” She said confidently, getting up from her chair and walking over the tent.

“You need to talk. Since he did it himself, I'm sure…”

“Maybe he just wanted to check something?” Amy interrupted, turning to her. “Or we don't really know what he's like and he just wanted to have fun.”

“Don't make such theories. He wouldn't kiss you for no reason.” She got up too and stood next to the silver-haired.

“If he wanted to talk, he'd have come to me.” Amy muttered.

“When you are hiding all the time? You'd probably say you didn't feel well if he asked you to come over.”

“I am not a coward.”

“Then go to him.” Talisa challenged. “You have a choice, you can keep avoiding him and endlessly come up with more and more of your theories, or go and find out what was really on his mind at the time. The choice is yours.” With these words she left her as she left the tent, taking her cloak on the way.

On the one hand, Talisa was right, she should go to him and talk directly, without any fuss, about their feelings for each other and be sure, but on the other hand... What if she gets disappointed? What if it turns out that Robb regrets what happened? She doesn't even know what's worse, to hear that she has unrequited feelings for him or to get his emotions reciprocated. After all... What about his marriage to Frey's daughter then?

What if Catelyn was right and her presence only hurt Robb?

One thing was for sure, she had to make this decision as soon as possible.

* * *

A few hours later, in the evening, she finally made up her mind.

Maybe she wasn't very determined, but she didn't want to avoid him any longer, pretending that nothing had happened. She peeked uncertainly into the tent where Robb was finishing his conversation with Lord Bolton. She silently looked at the boy, letting him know that she would like to talk in private. Robb only nodded slightly towards the Lord, and he answered in the same way and left the tent, closing the material well behind him.

“How... How are you, Your Grace?” She asked finally, to start a conversation, after she let out a quiet breath. She still wasn't sure what might happen next, but she wanted to know how their relationship was going.

“And how am I supposed to be? My brothers are probably dead, murdered by someone I thought was my friend. One of my sisters is at the mercy of the queen, and the other is out of nowhere, I don't even know if she's alive. Also, my house is no longer mine and I don't know if I should go north or south. I'm feeling horrible...!” She looked away. Well, she could have predicted the bitterness in his answer to such a question…

“Sorry, it was like asking a blind person the color of something…” She muttered a little embarrassed.

“No, I'm sorry... You were just trying to be nice.” He sighed and walked to pour her something to drink, then handed the goblet straight into her hands.

“No problem. After all... You are the king.”

Do you think that's the kind of king I want to be?” She shrugged at this question.

“And what kind of king do you want to be?” She replied with a question, tilting her head slightly and tightening her fingers a little more on the goblet.

“A good one?” He snorted a short ironic laugh, leaning against the table. “Princes are groomed from birth to be kings, I was raised to be Lord of Winterfell.” As he said that, Amy slightly sat down at the table, wondering how she should respond to that. She quickly found the right words.

“And even such princes may fail. They raised me to be queen until I was ten and had a brother.” She shrugged as she said this. She still remembered all those lessons, which at first she didn't want to listen to, and when they were over, because Zorienn was born... Then she even asked her father to resume those lessons. “I was supposed to look for the rest of the family somewhere in Essos, and apparently... I am here.”

“How is it there?” He asked, sitting across from her. “Behind the wall? And what's your family like?” She sighed a little inside, relieved that they had managed to find another topic instead of talking about feelings and what had happened between them. Perhaps he forgot?

“Well... Surely it’s cold all the time, outside of the castle at least. As long as there is no blizzard, you can see a beautiful blue sky, just like here. And outside the city is… Calmly, unless you happen to run into wildlings.” They laughed shortly. “Though they're not that bad either. Some of them are afraid of us, but I even found a very optimistic friend there. As for my family, my mother is from the far east of Essos. She had only come to Westeros because she was tired of living in some hut in the eternal heat. She's just steadfast, she speaks Dothraki herself, so she didn't give up and taught me it, even though I was a really horrible student and I got upset many times.” She looked away slightly, smiling slightly at the memory. Mother... She was always closer to her than father... “But when she saw that I could learn another language, Valyrian, she didn't let me go, and I finally learned... Father was the Mad King's younger brother, you already know that. He was born in King's Landing, but moved beyond the Wall when he was five. Ever since my siblings arrived, he's been telling me he's going to marry me off to a noble so that I don't have to worry about anything and have a good life all the time... that he only wanted to keep me safe... My younger siblings are seven years old, they are twins, a boy and a girl, and they have the same silver hair as mine. And somewhere in the world I still have an uncle and a cousin. I guess that's it for my family that I know…” She looked down, only realizing how much she missed her loved ones and how long she hadn’t seen them. She wondered if her siblings miss her too... Slythia will surely tell her mother that she has no one to read or tell her bedtime stories. “Sorry.” She stood up, leaving the goblet she had been keeping on the table the whole time. Now is not the time to think about her family. “It's late and you probably want to rest…”

“I don't want to marry any of Frey's daughters.” He said suddenly, standing up too. The whole time she spoke, he watched her carefully, remembering how he had kissed her just a few days earlier in this tent.

He didn't forget, he waited for her to let him see her again and perhaps touch those soft, silver strands of hair again.

From the first time he saw her, he couldn't get them out of his head, so different from what he had ever seen before. True, you could sometimes meet blond-haired maidens in the north, but their hair was not even close to this unique shade.

He had to admit that it was these strands that fascinated him and did not let him take his mind off the beauty from the far north.

When he was close to her, he could feel the stress and pressure of the war coming out from him. Her presence soothed his spirit and allowed him to gather his thoughts again.

He wouldn't say that aloud to anyone - especially not to his mother - but he'd been imagining more and more lately what it would be like to break off the deal with Frey and ask for the silver-haired princess's hand.

It was the first time he had spoken about it out loud, and he couldn't bear to wait for the answer from the woman for whom he was losing his heart more and more every day.

“I don't want you to do that either…” She admitted, and smiled softly, but still with obvious pain, and walked around the table to a distance of only three paces in front of him. He was a little reassured by those words that he hadn't fantasized about something he could never have. “But you needed their bridge... I just hope it's really beautiful.” He didn't wait any longer, just crossed the steps between them and started kissing her, before starting to undo his shirt, but the girl quickly took over it. He couldn't hold back anymore, not when she admitted her feelings.

Robb quickly unbuttoned her light dress, also starring for a moment at her breasts, which were already completely exposed to his eyes.

Is she so beautiful because she's actually perfect or is something starting to blind me?

He looked into her eyes for a moment longer, as if making sure he was doing the right thing, and slid the dress off her shoulders, then pulled it down to her hips - all this while exchanging kisses with her - and the fabric landed lightly on the ground, leaving her body fully exposed to his lustful gaze.

At the same time, Amy had already untied and tossed aside his leather shirt and looked at his bare torso, sculpted by hours of training. Then, with trembling hands, she began to undo his pants, and he had to help her in the end to make it go more smoothly.

Her heart was beating incredibly fast as she realized what was about to happen. She had never been so close to any man in her life. The closest contact was during some dance at a ball, when the hand of some Lord's son rested on her waist or hip. She had never felt the heat of someone else's body against her own naked body.

Previously, the only people who saw her without clothes were maybe two maids who washed and dressed her. This made her even more uncertain about her body shape, although it seemed that the Young Wolf hadn't even had time to pay much attention to it yet.

She retreated under his pressure to one of the wooden columns that supported the tent, against which she then leaned her back. He grabbed her leg from below, near the knee under her thigh, and lifted it, sliding his hot kisses down her neck and jaw. He secretly wished he could touch her, kiss her like that.

He then grabbed her other leg as well, signaling that he wanted to pick her up and for her to wrap her legs around his hips, which she did, before wrapping her arms around his neck. He tossed her lightly to catch her better and moved away from the column, after a while putting Amy on the bed.

“Have you…” He began, his lips on hers, feeling the warmth of her bare body under his fingers. Body he'd only seen before in a dress or even a cloak that hid her lovely figure. He was burning with impatience as he wanted to make love to her, but he was afraid he might hurt her if he wasn't gentle enough. “Have you ever been with a man?” He finally asked, lifting himself up a little on his forearms to look her in the eye.

“No…” she replied softly, shaking her head. In fact, she was a little afraid of such a close-up, but at the same time she was very curious about it, and it was additionally enhanced by an almost burning feeling in her lower abdomen, which seemed to be calling and wanting to feel something more. Her crotch demanded the same attention, craving any touch from Robb.

It was also true that she had no idea what would happen after all this tension between them subsided. She knew the official status of women's virginity, especially those of high birth. She was also afraid of her father's possible reaction to this, if he somehow found out…

“Do you want it before the wedding?” His question snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Before the wedding?” she repeated, frowning slightly.

“Our wedding. I know…” He started when he saw what was on her lips. “But I won't take your virginity in a fling…” The words calmed her down a bit. “I already said, I don't want Frey's daughter, I want you. I've been sure of it since the moment I kissed you. Even though I thought you didn't want to know me anymore and I'd never see you again…”

“Robb…” Amy began, entwining her hand through his hair and connecting their foreheads, also closing her eyes slightly.

“You didn’t answer.” He replied when their faces were maybe a few inches apart.

“I don't care about any traditions…” She grabbed his hand and ran it along her belly to the crotch that was so eager to be touched. “I want to feel important to someone right now, loved.”

The truth was, for most of her life, she'd only been able to get real warmth from a small number of people. Her father may have loved her and cared for her, but he was rather cold on a daily basis. He didn’t show his love, he rarely hugged her on his own, assuming that if she needed it, she would come to him herself.

Mother was different, she was the one who hugged her when she hurt herself, comforted her after losing another friend or something as trivial as a lost toy. She was the light in her life, the person she felt she could confide in.

The siblings were ten years younger than her, yes, she could count on the unconditional love of her siblings, but she was much more often the support for them, not the other way around.

And everyone else around her and outside her family? Guards, maids, Lords and their children... She didn't feel so comfortable with them, she didn't talk about her private affairs. She had two friends, siblings, the older Ryledia and Kaster, with whom she liked to talk from time to time, but Ryl had been banished some time ago and she had no contact with her since... Only her brother remained, with whom she was afraid to see too much, lest he share the fate of the other boys who approached her. For example, the fate of Cerian...

So now the feeling that someone just wanted her, became interested in her even when he didn't know who she really was... And in addition, her father can't do anything, he won't suddenly order him killed, no one will suddenly pull him away from her and put a sword in him, straight to the heart... All this pushed her to the point that she wanted to give herself to him.

It didn't matter what would happen after that, now she felt happy being in the same bed with a man who wanted her as much as she wanted him. His hot, gentle touch and warm lips.

“You are the greatest treasure in this world to me.” Honestly, even if he was lying, she didn't care. Even if it was supposed to be ‘just an affair’, she wouldn't have a problem with it. He whispered the words, planting kisses on her jaw and pressing the tip of his dick against her entrance. He pushed his hips slightly and slid into her gently, not moving much at first to give her time to adjust. During this time, they preferred to kiss and touch each other calmly, getting to know each other's bodies.

In time, she placed his hand on her hips, which she began to move slightly, showing him that he could continue, which he did immediately, slowly starting to slide out of her and go inside again. They made love like this, enjoying each other for a few minutes, until the thrusts began to get faster and harder. They both finally came at the same time, moaning lingeringly.

Robb wrapped his arms around Amy’s waist and rolled over with her, hugging her as if she were indeed the greatest treasure in the world, as he had said earlier.

“No matter what happens, I'll marry you... Even if the whole world will turn against me.” He said, breathing heavily and running his hand along her side.

It was... It was probably the best thing that happened to her in her life. She felt even happier than when she got her own dragon, well, actually an egg from which a dragon had hatched... She thought then that nothing better will happen to her than the ability to fly on the dragon’s back in a few years when it grows…

But now... How she felt now surpassed even that.

“You gave your word to another.”

He knew about it. He was well aware of that, but after what had happened, he didn't want to… He couldn't just throw Amy away. He valued his honor, but placed hers much higher.

“So what do you suggest?” He sat up, and Amy with him.

She wasn't quite sure what to do, but a plan was already forming in her head...

“You can't break your word, but he can cancel the deal.” She noticed, placing her hand on his cheek. “I'll convince him to do that.”

“He'll think for years, if he even considers letting go of such a marriage…” He murmured, taking her hand on his cheek and kissing the middle of it. So far, he hadn't even taken her offer seriously. “Let's get married tomorrow, what's in the way?”

Yes, he was impatient. He was never one of those who could wait for something for years, even if the situation required it. Especially when the honor of the woman he fell in love with was on the line.

“First, your promise. And second, I'll say no to Septon, and it will be the end of your wedding.” She tilted her head slightly, smiling slyly.

“If anyone finds out what happened between us, especially…” He wouldn't want to know what his mother would do if she found out from someone what had just happened between them. that a woman - whom for some reason she didn’t like - warmed his bed... Or even worse, if she suddenly walked in here, she would definitely make a huge affair…

“How would they know?” She interrupted him. “I stayed at night with you because I needed support after having nightmares all the time, I miss home, whatever, there are so many excuses.”

“What if you got pregnant?” She rolled her eyes.

“Come on…” She didn't want to think about it, didn't want to think about whether she would be carrying a child after the first night. But even so, she wasn't going to cause Robb to lose much in the eyes of his men.

“If we have a baby after tonight, what then? You want to wait months to see how Frey decides, if he even considers it?” She sighed as he placed a hand gently on her belly. True, she hadn't thought about getting pregnant, but it wasn't a sure thing.

“Nothing is for sure, and I just don't want anyone to call you an oathbreaker afterward.” She looked up at his eyes. “Besides, I've already said, I will say ‘no’ and you can't do anything.” She shrugged and laid back down.

“You are blackmailing me? Your honor is at my mercy.” He lay down behind Amy and played with her hair, his warm breath teasing her neck and shoulder.

“I can always say I'm a virgin and you're the one lying. Besides, people will care about money or face and won't mind one thing with the King of the North.”

“Only one...?” He slid his hand from her belly to her crotch.

“For now.” She smiled slightly under her breath.

“You know what? I'll be praying for a baby so you'll marry me sooner and not worry about that disgusting, old Frey.” She giggled at those words and turned to him as he snuggled into her neck.

“I'm in no rush for the bedding ceremony on the occasion of the wedding.”

“Come on, it's a tradition. After all, it must be clear that the couple consummated their marriage.” She raised an eyebrow.

“It's not the only way, and no one else has to look at my naked body.” She replied, not quite sensing whether she was joking or serious.

“We'll have a duvet.” She pushed him, and in response he only pulled her closer to him. “It'll only be a few minutes. Do you not practice this in your kingdom?”

“We do. But, for example, my parents didn't have a bedding ceremony.”

“Mine too, but maybe I care about the tradition?” She raised an eyebrow. “I hope you know I've been making fun of you for the last few minutes, right?” Amy rolled her eyes, laughing a bit.

“When you kiss instead of talking nonsense, you're definitely better.”

“Am I?” As if on cue, he kissed her, rolling onto his back, still holding her waist. “Do you stand by it?”

“Yes.” She smiled, straddling his hips and leaned in slightly, brushing his lips lightly, but not allowing to be kissed. She pulled away just as he was about to connect their lips, playing with his patience. Over time, this began to be met with nervous grunts from Robb, until he finally wrapped his arms around her tighter and bit her lower lip with his teeth, before finally kissing her. “You don’t know how to play.” She murmured, brushing his curly hair.

“I've never been patient.” He got up and rolled the girl onto her back, pinning her to the bed by the arms, thus starting the game all over again.

-> Chapter VII "Temporary peace" -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

#robb stark x targaryen #robb stark x oc #robb stark fanfiction #robb stark game of thrones #game of thrones robb stark #robb stark #robb stark smut

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istumpysk · 2 years

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AFFC: The Kraken's Daughter (Asha I) [Chapter 11]

Rodrik, called the Reader, Lord of the Ten Towers, Lord of Harlaw, Harlaw of Harlaw . . . her favorite uncle.

[...]

She turned to Three-Tooth, an old woman of fearful age who had been her uncle's steward since she was known as Twelve-Tooth. "My uncle is with his books?"

"Aye, where else?" The woman was so old that a septon had once said she must have nursed the Crone. That was when the Faith was still tolerated on the isles. Lord Rodrik had kept septons at Ten Towers, not for his soul's sake but for his books.

Is it normal for septons to look after the library?

Another day it might be Hullen with his endless horse talk, or Septon Chayle from the library, or Jory, or Ser Rodrik, or even Old Nan with her stories. - Arya II, AGOT

I'm okay with it, just no burning allowed.

+.+.+

"And my lady mother?"

"Abed," said Three-Tooth, "in the Widow's Tower."

Aye, where else? The widow the tower was named after was her aunt. Lady Gwynesse had come home to mourn after her husband had died off Fair Isle during Balon Greyjoy's first rebellion. "I will only stay until my grief has passed," she had told her brother, famously, "though by rights Ten Towers should be mine, for I am seven years your elder." Long years had passed since then, but still the widow lingered, grieving, and muttering from time to time that the castle should be hers. And now Lord Rodrik has a second half-mad widowed sister beneath his roof, Asha reflected. Small wonder if he seeks solace in his books.

Every family must have a dispute over succession.

+.+.+

When Asha had sailed away to war, she had done so with a heavy heart, fearing that her mother might well die before she could return. Not once had she thought that her father might perish instead. The Drowned God plays savage japes upon us all, but men are crueler still. A sudden storm and a broken rope had sent Balon Greyjoy to his death. Or so they claim.

Not every Greyjoy is as dumb as Theon, Dam-phair, and Victarion.

+.+.+

Alannys Harlaw never had the sort of beauty the singers cherished, but her daughter had loved her fierce strong face and the laughter in her eyes. On that last visit, though, she had found Lady Alannys in a window seat huddled beneath a pile of furs, staring out across the sea. Is this my mother, or her ghost? she remembered thinking as she'd kissed her cheek.

Her mother's skin had been parchment thin, her long hair white. Some pride remained in the way she held her head, but her eyes were dim and cloudy, and her mouth had trembled when she asked after Theon. "Did you bring my baby boy?" she had asked. Theon had been ten years old when he was carried off to Winterfell a hostage, and so far as Lady Alannys was concerned he would always be ten years old, it seemed. "Theon could not come," Asha had to tell her. "Father sent him reaving along the Stony Shore." Lady Alannys had naught to say to that. She only nodded slowly, yet it was plain to see how deep her daughter's words had cut her.

And now I must tell her that Theon is dead, and drive yet another dagger through her heart. There were two knives buried there already. On the blades were writ the words Rodrik and Maron, and many a time they twisted cruelly in the night.

Is this what Catelyn would have become if she had survived?

Theon's such an asshole for not visiting his mother when he had the opportunity. My hate is reignited.

+.+.+

"There's cold beef in the kitchens. And mustard in a big stone jar, from Oldtown."

Why is he like this? Was this necessary? The mustard couldn't have come from anywhere else?

+.+.+

"That will not serve. We had a rough crossing. I want something hot in their bellies." Asha hooked a thumb through the studded belt about her hips. "Lady Glover and the children should not want for wood nor warmth. Put them in some tower, not the dungeons. The babe is sick."

"Babes are often sick. Most die, and folks are sorry. I shall ask my lord where to put these wolf folk."

She caught the woman's nose between thumb and forefinger and pinched. "You will do as I say. And if this babe dies, no one will be sorrier than you."

The duality of Asha Greyjoy.

Caring for the mother and baby. . . that she removed from their home, and took captive.

+.+.+

The Book Tower was the fattest of the ten, octagonal in shape and made with great blocks of hewn stone. The stair was built within the thickness of the walls. Asha climbed quickly, to the fifth story and the room where her uncle read. Not that there are any rooms where he does not read. Lord Rodrik was seldom seen without a book in hand, be it in the privy, on the deck of his Sea Song, or whilst holding audience. Asha had oft seen him reading on his high seat beneath the silver scythes. He would listen to each case as it was laid before him, pronounce his judgment . . . and read a bit whilst his captain-of-guards went to bring in the next supplicant.

[...]

Lord Rodrik Harlaw was neither fat nor slim; neither tall nor short; neither ugly nor handsome. His hair was brown, as were his eyes, though the short, neat beard he favored had gone grey. All in all, he was an ordinary man, distinguished only by his love of written words, which so many ironborn found unmanly and perverse.

I see the author has a new favourite character.

I wonder how Lord Rodrik Harlaw will save the world. Let's find out.

+.+.+

"Archmaester Marwyn's Book of Lost Books." He lifted his gaze from the page to study her. "Hotho brought me a copy from Oldtown. He has a daughter he would have me wed." Lord Rodrik tapped the book with a long nail. "See here? Marwyn claims to have found three pages of Signs and Portents, visions written down by the maiden daughter of Aenar Targaryen before the Doom came to Valyria. Does Lanny know that you are here?"

Marwyn, I see you!

Daenys the Dreamer was the maiden daughter of Aenar Targaryen. She once had a prophetic dream about the destruction of Valyria by fire. Her father heeded her dream, and moved his family and five dragons to Dragonstone, allowing House Targaryen to survive the Doom.

Why is he reading that? Tell us, George.

+.+.+

Deepwood is important to my plans."

"Your plans must change. You come too late."

"Late and hungry." She stretched her long legs out beneath the table and turned the pages of the nearest book, a septon's discourse on Maegor the Cruel's war against the Poor Fellows.

The Poor Fellows belonged to the Faith Militant, who are sworn to the Faith of the Seven. After the Faith Militant uprising that saw many Targaryens targeted, Maegor the Cruel defeated the Poor Fellows at the battle of Stonebridge. He then outlawed holy men being armed, a law that Cersei will overturn.

Why is he reading that? Never mind, I can probably guess.

+.+.+

"Balon fell to his death when a rope bridge broke beneath him. A storm was rising, and the bridge was swaying and twisting with each gust of wind." Rodrik shrugged. "Or so we are told. Your mother had a bird from Maester Wendamyr."

Asha slid her dirk out of its sheath and began to clean the dirt from beneath her fingernails. "Three years away, and the Crow's Eye returns the very day my father dies."

"The day after, we had heard. Silence was still out to sea when Balon died, or so it is claimed. Even so, I will agree that Euron's return was . . . timely, shall we say?"

George, all I ask is that you don't make me pick between the Reader and the Crow's Eye.

+.+.+

"A bloody kingsmoot!"

"On Old Wyk," confirmed Lord Rodrik. "Though I pray it is not bloody. I have been consulting Haereg's History of the Ironborn. When last the salt kings and the rock kings met in kingsmoot, Urron of Orkmont let his axemen loose among them, and Nagga's ribs turned red with gore. House Greyiron ruled unchosen for a thousand years from that dark day, until the Andals came."

[...]

"Archmaester Rigney once wrote that history is a wheel, for the nature of man is fundamentally unchanging. What has happened before will perforce happen again, he said. I think of that whenever I contemplate the Crow's Eye. Euron Greyjoy sounds queerly like Urron Greyiron to these old ears. I shall not go to Old Wyk. Nor should you."

Apparently that last bit is another Wheel of Time reference.

What has happened before will perforce happen again, he said. I think of that whenever I contemplate the Crow's Eye.

It's so funny he would say that, because I contemplated the other storm.

+.+.+

Going to Old Wyk serves no purpose. This dream of kingship is a madness in our blood. I told your father so the first time he rose, and it is more true now than it was then. It's land we need, not crowns. With Stannis Baratheon and Tywin Lannister contending for the Iron Throne, we have a rare chance to improve our lot. Let us take one side or the other, help them to victory with our fleets, and claim the lands we need from a grateful king.

"That might be worth some thought, once I sit the Seastone Chair," said Asha.

[...]

"A long cold swim, for a crown you cannot keep. Your father had more courage than sense. The Old Way served the isles well when we were one small kingdom amongst many, but Aegon's Conquest put an end to that. Balon refused to see what was plain before him. The Old Way died with Black Harren and his sons."

"I know that." Asha had loved her father, but she did not delude herself. Balon had been blind in some respects. A brave man but a bad lord. "Does that mean we must live and die as thralls to the Iron Throne? If there are rocks to starboard and a storm to port, a wise captain steers a third course."

The Reader should be someone's Hand.

Unlike the show, I have a feeling this time Asha picks the right side.

+.+.+

"Show me this third course."

"I shall . . . at my queensmoot. Nuncle, how can you even think of not attending? This will be history, alive . . ."

"I prefer my history dead. Dead history is writ in ink, the living sort in blood."

Great line.

+.+.+

"I am certain of nothing."

"You found a body?"

"We found parts of many bodies. The wolves were there before us . . . the four-legged sort, but they showed scant reverence for their two-legged kin. The bones of the slain were scattered, cracked open for their marrow. I confess, it was hard to know what happened there. It seemed as though the northmen fought amongst themselves."

George won't allow me to enjoy my summer vacation, he has to keep reminding me Theon is alive.

+.+.+

"Crows will fight over a dead man's flesh and kill each other for his eyes." Lord Rodrik stared across the sea, watching the play of moonlight on the waves. "We had one king, then five. Now all I see are crows, squabbling over the corpse of Westeros."

Almost like it's A Feast for Crows?

Ba Dum Tss!

+.+.+

That made him wince. "Asha, my two tall sons fed the crabs of Fair Isle. I am not like to wed again. Stay, and I shall name you heir to the Ten Towers. Be content with that."

"Ten Towers?" Would that I could.

[...]

"I can protect myself. Nuncle, I am a kraken. Asha, of House Greyjoy." She pushed to her feet. "It's my father's seat I want, not yours. Those scythes of yours look perilous. One could fall and slice my head off. No, I'll sit the Seastone Chair."

"Then you are just another crow, screaming for carrion."

Does there exist any foreshadowing that Pyke will be destroyed?

A couple of things stand out in this chapter:

Asha feels more at home at the Ten Towers than at Pyke.

It was good to walk these halls again. Ten Towers had always felt like home to Asha, more so than Pyke.

Her mother lives at the Ten Towers.

And now Lord Rodrik has a second half-mad widowed sister beneath his roof, Asha reflected.

Harlaw is the richest, and most populous of all the Iron Islands.

Harlaw was not the largest of the Iron Islands, but it was the richest and most populous, and Lord Rodrik's power was not to be despised.

The Ten Towers is the newest castle on the isles.

Not one castle, ten castles squashed together, she had thought, the first time she had seen it. She remembered breathless races up and down the steps and along wallwalks and covered bridges, fishing off the Long Stone Quay, days and nights lost amongst her uncle's wealth of books. His grandfather's grandfather had raised the castle, the newest on the isles.

And now her favourite uncle is offering to make her the heir. I don't know, it's starting to feel like a natural place for Asha to settle.

+.+.+

Rodrik sat again behind his table. "Go. I wish to return to Archmaester Marwyn and his search."

+.+.+

"Asha?" A shadow stepped out from behind the well.

Her hand went to her dirk at once . . . until the moonlight transformed the dark shape into a man in a sealskin cloak. Another ghost. "Tris. I'd thought to find you in the hall."

"I wanted to see you."

"What part of me, I wonder?" She grinned. "Well, here I stand, all grown up. Look all you like."

"A woman." He moved closer. "And beautiful."

Aww, isn't this lovely? A reunion between a fully grown beautiful woman and her shadow ghost.

+.+.+

Tristifer Botley had filled out since last she'd seen him, but he had the same unruly hair that she remembered, and eyes as large and trusting as a seal's. Sweet eyes, truly. That was the trouble with poor Tristifer; he was too sweet for the Iron Islands. His face has grown comely, she thought.

Send him to the Vale, I know one girl who would love him.

+.+.+

"Is it true you are Lord Botley now?"

"In name, at least. Harren died at Moat Cailin. One of the bog devils shot him with a poisoned arrow. But I am the lord of nothing. When my father denied his claim to the Seastone Chair, the Crow's Eye drowned him and made my uncles swear him fealty.

[...]

"Your uncle bought him," Tris said. "The Silence returned with holds full of treasure. Plate and pearls, emeralds and rubies, sapphires big as eggs, bags of coin so heavy that no man can lift them . . . the Crow's Eye has been buying friends at every hand. My uncle Germund calls himself Lord Botley now, and rules in Lordsport as your uncle's man."

A Song of Ice and Fire, other known as Uncles and Aunts Stealing Birthrights.

+.+.+

Of the five boys her mother had brought to Pyke to foster after Ned Stark had taken her last living son as hostage, Tris had been closest to Asha in age. He had not been the first boy she had ever kissed, but he was the first to undo the laces of her jerkin and slip a sweaty hand beneath to feel her budding breasts.

I'm laughing.

+.+.+

I would have let him feel more than that if he'd been bold enough. Her first flowering had come upon her during the war and wakened her desire, but even before that Asha had been curious. He was there, he was mine own age, and he was willing, that was all it was . . . that, and the moon blood. Even so, she'd called it love, till Tris began to go on about the children she would bear him; a dozen sons at least, and oh, some daughters too.

I can't with this man. Lol

We may have lost the treasured Sansa -> Jon chapter transitions, but we gained Asha and Arianne.

+.+.+

"I don't want to have a dozen sons," she had told him, appalled. "I want to have adventures."

ARYA?!

+.+.+

Not long after, Maester Qalen found them at their play, and young Tristifer Botley was sent away to Blacktyde.

"I wrote you letters," he said, "but Maester Joseran would not send them. Once I gave a stag to an oarsman on a trader bound for Lordsport, who promised to put my letter in your hands."

"Your oarsman winkled you and threw your letter in the sea."

"I feared as much. They never gave me your letters either."

I wrote none. In truth, she had been relieved when Tris was sent away. By then his fumblings had begun to bore her. That was not something he would care to hear, however.

Oh god, don't make it Catelyn and Littlefinger too. Lol

"He wrote to me at Riverrun after Brandon was killed, but I burned the letter unread. By then I knew that Ned would marry me in his brother's place." - Catelyn IV, AGOT

+.+.+

"I will go anywhere with you, but . . . Lord Blacktyde says this kingsmoot is a dangerous folly. He thinks your uncle will descend on them and kill them all, as Urron did."

He's mad enough. "He lacks the strength."

"You do not know his strength. He's been gathering men on Pyke.

[...]

"but if they catch you in those nets of theirs, you'll be as dead as if they had been dragonlords. And there's worse. The Crow's Eye brought back monsters from the east . . . aye, and wizards too."

Why yes, you did just read someone comparing Euron Greyjoy to a dragonlord.

+.+.+

Will I have your voice at the queensmoot, Tris?"

"You shall have all of me. I am your man, forever. Asha, I would wed you. Your lady mother has given her consent."

She stifled a groan. You might have asked me first . . . though you might not have liked the answer half so well.

Tris,

+.+.+

"I do. All I dream about is you. Asha, I swear upon the bones of Nagga, I have never touched another woman."

"Go touch one . . . or two, or ten. I have touched more men than I can count. Some with my lips, more with my axe." She had surrendered her virtue at six-and-ten, to a beautiful blond-haired sailor on a trading galley up from Lys. He only knew six words of the Common Tongue, but "fuck" was one of them—the very word she'd hoped to hear. Afterward, Asha had the sense to find a woods witch, who showed her how to brew moon tea to keep her belly flat.

I know two people who wouldn't have the sense to do that.

+.+.+

"I could never . . ." Tristifer shook his head. "You and I were meant to be, Asha. I have always known you would be my wife, and the mother of my sons." He seized her upper arm.

In a blink her dirk was at his throat. "Take your hand away or you won't live long enough to breed a son. Now." When he did, she lowered the blade. "You want a woman, well and good. I'll put one in your bed tonight. Pretend she's me, if that will give you pleasure, but do not presume to grab at me again. I am your queen, not your wife. Remember that." Asha sheathed her dirk and left him standing there, with a fat drop of blood slowly creeping down his neck, black in the pale light of the moon.

Ew, he's a Nice Guy.

I don't like it. Let's try this whole scene again, only different people.

+.+.+

Asha slid her dirk out of its sheath and began to clean the dirt from beneath her fingernails.

Asha slammed the point of the dirk into the table.

Asha wrenched loose her dirk and sheathed it once again.

Her hand went to her dirk at once

In a blink her dirk was at his throat.

Asha sheathed her dirk and left him standing there

ARYA?!

Final thoughts:

I'll be real with you, Asha's never been one of my favourites, but maybe things will change this time around.

(I like my squid with more spice.)

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #affc #the kraken's daughter #asha i

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ladycatofwinterfell · 1 year

Note

😇

I saw your struggles today and I’m giving you what should have been the beginning of a magnum opus but instead went nowhere

Darkness, a barren nothing, and then suddenly fire. She could feel it in her whole body even though she saw no light, the flames licked her body. Her cheeks were melting away and the smoke went down her throat and into her lungs, hot and dry. She could hear her own wheezing breaths, small and weak. It was a dying woman’s breaths, the sound of death, and she could not move.

“Here” a soft voice said.

The Stranger had come to take her. The Stranger had a gentle voice and suddenly her throat was cool. It was sweeter than any cake she had ever eaten, she had never known such relief despite that the fire still had hold of the rest of her.

“You poor thing, it is truly a wonder you lived.”

Then it was only darkness once more.

Next time she knew more than blackness the flames are smaller, not as ruthless. They try to harm her, try to cause her pain though they have lost the strength she knew before. Still her breaths were small, still she couldn’t move. Her lips parted in what should have been a scream but was merely a whisper.

“Ronja, she’s awake again.”

It wasn’t the gentle voice from before, the Stranger took many forms. It was the gruff voice of a man, low and deep.

“Give her some of the honey water.”

There it was again, the soft voice, a woman’s voice. She loved that voice, she wanted her to speak forever. It was warm and comforting like the embrace of a mother. Perhaps her own mother had come to meet her and bring her home. It had been so many years, she wanted to see her again.

“You took her in, she could die for all I care.”

She wanted to die, there was so much pain in life. In death was Mother and Father. Robb and Bran and Rickon waited for her, her little boys, her lovely sons. And Ned. Ned’s warm embrace and gentle kisses, his comfort and his love.

“Don’t listen to him, lass, he doesn’t mean to be so harsh.”

The woman with the sweet voice calmed the fire even more, granted her the sweet relief in her throat and cooled her cheeks. Like when she had been a child and swam in the rivers, diving under the water that was sometimes so cold that her lips were turning blue.

“Rest, sweetling.”

And so Catelyn did.

Slowly she opened her eyes, trying to get used to the light. A small room met her when she had blinked a few times. It was only the narrow cot she was in, a larger bed next to it, a table with three chairs and a cabinet. A small fire burned in a little fireplace in the other end of the room and above it hung a kettle. The only window in the room was above the larger bed and a door that led outside was opposite of the beds.

She didn’t recognise the room, she had never seen it before. She didn’t remember anything at all after seeing Robb fall to the floor. When she slowly turned her head to look out the window she saw some leaves and a grey sky.

Her body was sore and stiff and only moving her head was exhausting. Her mouth was dry as sand and every breath hurt in her throat. There was a wooden bowl with what seemed to be water and a roughly carved spoon placed on the dusty wooden floor next to her, though she couldn’t reach for it.

Catelyn didn’t know if it had been minutes or hours of staring at the bowl when the door opened. The woman that entered was plump and clad in a grey woollen dress, torn and stained. Her face was lined and weathered, her hair as grey as her dress, though still there was a kindness to her. Despite her torn appearance she seemed to have close to laughter.

At first she didn’t seem to notice Catelyn, only crouched down in front of the fire and put more wood on it from a small pile next to it.

“Please” Catelyn croaked, her voice no more than a whisper. “Water.”

The woman quickly stood up and spun around, smiling at her.

“Of course, sweetling” she said.

She crossed the room, carefully lifted the bowl and brought the spoon to Catelyn’s lips. She felt like a child as the woman fed her spoonful of the sweet, honeyed water, though she was not strong enough to care. Greedily she took spoon after spoon until the bowl was almost empty.

“Thank you” she whispered.

Though she couldn’t speak louder her voice was smoother, it didn’t crack.

“You needn’t thank me.”

The woman put the bowl down and then sat at the edge of the cot.

“What’s your name, lass?” she asked.

Catelyn hesitated. She didn’t know who that woman was, she didn’t know to whom she was loyal. She didn’t know who Catelyn was from sight, though perhaps her name wasn’t a welcome one.

“My mother named me Cat. Cat Rivers.”

Cat was not a strange name and there were thousands upon thousands of bastard in the realm. No one could say she wasn’t one of them.

“I’m Ronja. You might’ve heard my husband speaking, he’s Birk. It was he who found you washed up on the river bank.”

Washed up on the river bank? What had they done to her? Why had she been in the river?”

“I don’t remember being in the river.”

“Oh you were far from this world, Cat Rivers, barely alive. We thought you were dead just like everyone else in the water, but suddenly you gave a small sound and then we knew there was life in you. And I wouldn’t let that change.”

Catelyn didn’t know what to say so she remained silent. Why had they thrown her in the river? Had they believed her to be dead and thought they were ridding themselves of her corpse? Had it been a final mockery of her? They had killed her son and thrown her in the river.

She should have been dead. If not from the knife at her throat then from drowning and yet she had lived. That felt more like a mockery from the gods. They took everyone she loved and then made sure she lived to feel it.

Ronja and Birk had been kind not to leave her, though she couldn’t thank them for it, it would have been easier to be dead.

“What do I owe you for saving my life?”

She had nothing, but she was aware of that every debt had to be paid. And she was completely at their mercy, they could sell her to a brothel if they so wished. She found that the thought didn’t disgust her as much as it should have. She had nowhere to go, might as well have been the bastard she claimed to be. Lady Catelyn Stark was no more, her son and king was dead and gone, as was the rest of her family and her cause. Winterfell had been burned, Riverrun would be taken by the Lannisters and the Freys.

“We cannot ask you to pay when you didn’t even have clothes on your body and we won’t keep you here for longer than you wish, but there are always things to be done in our little field and we have sheep to care for.”

“Winter will soon be upon us” Catelyn said. “It will be a burden to feed me and keep me warm, I cannot stay with you.”

It would be dangerous, she didn’t care. She could die, it wouldn’t matter because she had nothing to live for. Though she couldn’t say that to the woman who had worked to keep her alive.

Ronja sighed, her smile turning melancholic. Her eyes, muddy green, had no tears in them and yet Catelyn dreaded her next words.

“The lions took our only daughter, we have a place for you if you’ve nowhere else to go” she said. “Though now I need to go back outside and you should rest, I’ve kept you awake for too long.”

Catelyn wanted to protest but Ronja had left her before she had time to open her mouth.

She had to know that Catelyn couldn’t stay there. Even if winter had not been fast approaching she wouldn’t be able to find peace. She could not live a small life after all that had taken place, it was impossible. Either she found a way to make her way to an ally that had not yet been destroyed or she died. The rivers had given her life to her, she would give it back to them willingly.

Though she was tired she couldn’t sleep more after the conversation. The lions had taken their daughter, as the lions had taken Catelyn’s husband and still held her eldest daughter. As the twin towers had taken her eldest son, as the kraken had taken the youngest two. As something unknown had claimed Arya, as doom had taken her home.

Sansa still lived. She was a prisoner, had been wed to the dwarf, but she lived. How long had it been since the twins? Did Sansa know? Had she heard of Robb’s demise, had someone told her of Catelyn’s death? Her little girl, her sweet and gentle daughter, she had to be saved. She couldn’t walk out into the river while Sansa still lived, she couldn’t let her be alone. She had to save her. She hadn’t been able to save Ned or Robb or Bran and Rickon and Arya. Though she couldn’t give up on Sansa. When those not entirely loyal to the false abomination of a king heard of what had been done at the Twins they would not be silent, she could take advantage of that. The king and his mother would fall and then Sansa would be free.

Though before that she had to regain her strength. She didn’t want to be a prisoner in the little house wherever she was, but she could barely lift a hand. Ronja was right, she needed to rest.

It was easier to be asleep, Catelyn quickly became aware. Nothing hurt and her mind couldn’t wander. When she was awake all she could think of was death and very rarely were her hosts there to distract her. The occasional wind howling outside was like screams, and she wanted to join it. Though when she was asleep she was at peace, they all waited for her there. Happy and safe, and it made the waking world even more painful.

So she spent most of her time sleeping. And slowly she noticed that she became stronger. After seven days and seven nights she could sit upright and eat by own accords even though it still hurt to swallow anything but water. Birk refused to speak to her, though she didn’t care because Ronja was kind. Tended to her torn cheeks that very slowly healed. The long wound that went across her throat, almost from one ear to the other, refused to stop bleeding. If she moved her head too quickly it ripped open, so in the end Ronja tied a piece of cloth around her neck and ordered her to be perfectly still. Birk had grumbled terribly then.

“Can you not care for your own wounds, woman?” he had asked, glaring at her from a chair at the table.

“No” Catelyn responded shortly. “I cannot.”

Had she been able to she wouldn’t have been there.

#i might turn this into a one shot one day #2022 snippets

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asoiaf-artbrdr · 2 years

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Loras Tyrell

In the end it came down to four; the Hound and his monstrous brother Gregor, Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer, and Ser Loras Tyrell, the youth they called the Knight of Flowers.

Ser Loras was the youngest son of Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South. At sixteen, he was the youngest rider on the field, yet he had unhorsed three knights of the Kingsguard that morning in his first three jousts. Sansa had never seen anyone so beautiful. His plate was intricately fashioned and enameled as a bouquet of a thousand different flowers, and his snow-white stallion was draped in a blanket of red and white roses. After each victory, Ser Loras would remove his helm and ride slowly round the fence, and finally pluck a single white rose from the blanket and toss it to some fair maiden in the crowd. - Game, Sansa II

Renly sat with his young bride on his left hand and her brother on the right. Apart from the white linen bandage around his brow, Ser Loras seemed none the worse for the day's misadventures. He was indeed as comely as Catelyn had suspected he might be. When not glazed, his eyes were lively and intelligent, his hair an artless tumble of brown locks that many a maid might have envied. He had replaced his tattered tourney cloak with a new one; the same brilliantly striped silk of Renly's Rainbow Guard, clasped with the golden rose of Highgarden.

From time to time, King Renly would feed Margaery some choice morsel off the point of his dagger, or lean over to plant the lightest of kisses on her cheek, but it was Ser Loras who shared most of his jests and confidences. - Clash, Catelyn II

Garlan Tyrell

The Imp's mismatched eyes narrowed. "My lady can dance with whomever she pleases."

Perhaps she ought to have remained beside her husband, but she wanted to dance so badly . . . and Ser Garlan was brother to Margaery, to Willas, to her Knight of Flowers. "I see why they name you Garlan the Gallant, ser," she said, as she took his hand.

"My lady is gracious to say so. My brother Willas gave me that name, as it happens. To protect me."

"To protect you?" She gave him a puzzled look.

Ser Garlan laughed. "I was a plump little boy, I fear, and we do have an uncle called Garth the Gross. So Willas struck first, though not before threatening me with Garlan the Greensick, Garlan the Galling, and Garlan the Gargoyle."

It was so sweet and silly that Sansa had to laugh, despite everything. Afterward she was absurdly grateful. Somehow the laughter made her hopeful again, if only for a little while. Smiling, she let the music take her, losing herself in the steps, in the sound of flute and pipes and harp, in the rhythm of the drum . . . and from time to time in Ser Garlan's arms, when the dance brought them together. - Storm, Sansa III

Willas Tyrell

"I have considered the Redwyne twins, Theon Greyjoy, Quentyn Martell, and a number of others. But our alliance with Highgarden was the sword that broke Stannis. It should be tempered and made stronger. Ser Loras has taken the white and Ser Garlan is wed to one of the Fossoways, but there remains the eldest son, the boy they scheme to wed to Sansa Stark."

Willas Tyrell. Tyrion was taking a wicked pleasure in Cersei's helpless fury. "That would be the cripple," he said.

Their father chilled him with a look. "Willas is heir to Highgarden, and by all reports a mild and courtly young man, fond of reading books and looking at the stars. He has a passion for breeding animals as well, and owns the finest hounds, hawks, and horses in the Seven Kingdoms."

A perfect match, mused Tyrion. Cersei also has a passion for breeding. He pitied poor Willas Tyrell, and did not know whether he wanted to laugh at his sister or weep for her. - Storm, Tyrion III

#house tyrell #asoiaf fanart #artbreeder #valyrianscrolls #megamikenzie #loras tyrell #garlan tyrell #garlan the gallant #willas tyrell

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jackoshadows · 3 years

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“You,” Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, “will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be Knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon.” - Eddard, A Game of Thrones

My featherbed is deep and soft, and there I’ll lay you down, I’ll dress you all in yellow silk, and on your head a crown - Arya, A Storm of Swords

“Aegon has been shaped for rule since before he could walk. He has been trained in arms, as befits a knight to be, but that was not the end of his education. He reads and writes, he speaks several tongues, he has studied history and law and poetry. A septa has instructed him in the mysteries of the Faith since he was old enough to understand them. He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Tommen has been taught that kingship is his right. Aegon knows that kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them.” - Kevan, A Dance with Dragons

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So this is an essay of sorts on my speculation/theory that Arya is going to end up as a leader of the North by the end of the series. I will split this into several parts:

Arya and leadership

Arya and Northern leadership

Arya and Nymeria

Skillsets

Importance of being a Warg/Skinchanger

Succession

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Arya Stark and leadership

“Know the men who follow you,” she heard him tell Robb once, “and let them know you. Don’t ask your men to die for a stranger.“ - Arya, AGoT

Arya has always been a leader rather than a follower. Just like Jon at the wall, she initially chafes at having to follow orders instead of doing what she thinks is the right thing to do. Despite Gendry and Hot Pie being older than her, she’s the one giving the orders and making the plans. She manipulates or forces characters into doing what she wants – getting Gendry to leave Harrenhal and forcing Jaqen to help her free the Northmen.

Arya took the lead, kicking her stolen horse to a brisk heedless trot until the trees close in around her. Hot Pie and Gendry followed as best they could. From time to time Arya glanced over her shoulder, to make sure the two boys had not fallen too far behind, and to see if they were being pursued - Arya, ASoS

Like most of our protagonists, Arya is ambitious and interested in being an active participant at the top. She wanted to become a King’s councilor and build castles. That entire little speech that Varys gives about the ideal candidate for ruling fits Arya to a T.

Arya has gone hungry, scrubbed and cleaned, cooked and kept house, sewed and mended clothes, bound up wounds, been hunted, been scared for her life – and done all this with limited protection. Just survived on her wits. Arya can wield a sword, is fluent in several languages and has studied with a Septa.

We also see war torn Westeros and the suffering of the smallfolk through Arya’s eyes in ACoK and ASoS. It doesn’t matter if it’s Stark or Lannister, the smallfolk suffer the same – Septon Meribald’s ‘Broken Men’ speech in AFfC embodies what Arya observes. After Arya frees the Northmen using weasel soup and Vargo Hoat betrays the Lannisters, there are reprisal killings, torture and rape enacted by Stark bannermen and the sellswords. The smith, Maester and the head maid are executed for merely serving Tywin – something on which they had no choice. Gendry points this out to Arya and she feels guilty for her part in all this.

“I hate this lot worse. Ser Amory was fighting for his lord, but the Mummers are sellswords and turncloaks. Half of them can’t even speak the Common Tongue. Septon Utt likes little boys, Qyburn does black magic, and your friend Biter eats people.”

The worst thing was, she couldn’t even say he was wrong. The Brave Companions did most of the foraging for Harrenhal, and Roose Bolton had given them the task of rooting out Lannisters. Vargo Hoat had divided them into four bands, to visit as many villages as possible. He led the largest group himself, and gave the others to his most trusted captains. She had heard Rorge laughing over Lord Vargo’s way of finding traitors. All he did was return to places he had visited before under Lord Tywin’s banner and seize those who had helped him. – Arya, ACoK

"It’s not a village, it’s only black stones and old bones. “Did the Lannisters kill the people who lived here?” Arya asked as she helped Anguy dry the horses.

“No.” He pointed. “Look at how thick the moss grows on the stones. No one’s moved them for a long time. And there’s a tree growing out of the wall there, see? This place was put to the torch a long time ago.”

“Who did it, then?” asked Gendry.

“Hoster Tully.” Notch was a stooped thin grey-haired man, born in these parts. “This was Lord Goodbrook’s village. When Riverrun declared for Robert, Goodbrook stayed loyal to the king, so Lord Tully came down on him with fire and sword. After the Trident, Goodbrook’s son made his peace with Robert and Lord Hoster, but that didn’t help the dead none.”

A silence fell." - Arya, ASoS

"Wolves, she thought again. Like me. Was this her pack? How could they be Robb’s men? She wanted to hit them. She wanted to hurt them. She wanted to cry.” - Arya, ASoS

The smallfolk in the Riverlands are caught between the Starks, Tullys and Lannisters with no good choices. And on the ground level, Arya sees this, understands this and acknowledges this. Her actions benefited house Stark and no one else. She understands the cost of war.

Arya is also very keen on justice. In that she not only thinks that characters deserve justice, but she wants to actively participate and deliver justice. She considers the execution of Dareon from the NW as a just one.

Dareon had been a deserter from the Night's Watch; he had deserved to die. - Arya, AFfC

“Guilty!” Arya shouted with the rest. “Guilty, guilty, kill him, guilty!” …

Arya could only think of Mycah and all the stupid prayers she’d prayed for the Hound to die. If there were gods, why didn’t Lord Beric win? She knew the Hound was guilty… - Arya, ASoS

Her father beat her so often and so brutally that she was never truly free of pain or fear until she came to us.”

“Did you kill him?”

“She asked the gift for herself, not for her father.”

You should have killed him.“ - Arya, ADWD

Arya drew back from him. "He killed the slave?" That did not sound right. "He should have killed the masters!" – Arya, aDwD

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Arya and Northern leadership

I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. - Hugo Wull

The North has famously never had a female leader in House Stark. So is it possible for valiant Ned’s precious little girl to become the first Lady Stark to lead the North?

In terms of personality, Arya resembles some of the other female leaders/members of Northern houses. She is bold and forward like Lyanna Mormont and Wylla Manderly. She has trained with the sword and learned how to use a bow and arrow. She proactively engineers her own escape like Alys Karstark. Characters like Ygritte and Alys remind Jon Snow of Arya.

Arya venerates Ned Stark. She follows his advice as much as Robb, Bran and Jon do. Even more so. She executes a NW brother for desertion. And that is important for the Starks.

I should kill them myself. Whenever her father had condemned a man to death, he did the deed himself with Ice, his greatsword. - Arya, ACoK

The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. - Bran, AGoT

“The Starks do not use headsmen. Ned always said that the man who passes the sentence should swing the blade, though he never took any joy in the duty.” - Catelyn, ACoK

“Rickard Karstark, Lord of Karhold.” Robb lifted the heavy axe with both hands. “Here in sight of gods and men, I judge you guilty of murder and high treason. In mine own name I condemn you. With mine own hand I take your life. Would you speak a final word?” - Catelyn, ASoS

The pale morning sunlight ran up and down his blade as Jon clasped the hilt of the bastard sword with both hands and raised it high. “If you have any last words, now is the time to speak them,” he said, expecting one last curse. - Jon, ADwD

Arya is one of the Starkiest Starks of the whole lot. She is also the only Stark to actually have the Stark look. She is stubborn and determined to do things the Stark way. She often uses her father’s advice to guide her way.

Her father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he hoped to keep them. “Know the men who follow you,” she heard him tell Robb once, “and let them know you. Don’t ask your men to die for a stranger.“ - Arya, aGoT

Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father’s table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms.- Arya, AGoT

Whenever her father had condemned a man to death, he did the deed himself with Ice, his greatsword. “If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him go look him in the face and hear his last words,” she’d heard him tell Robb and Jon once. - Arya, ACoK

Now there are theories that it is future Bran who was communicating with Arya through the weirwood at Harrenhal, but she does gain strength from her father’s words when she prays to the Old Gods.

Gooseprickles rose on Arya’s skin, and for an instant she felt dizzy. Then, so faintly, it seemed as if she heard her father’s voice. “When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives,” he said. “But there is no pack,” she whispered to the weirwood. Bran and Rickon were dead, the Lannisters had Sansa, Jon had gone to the Wall. “I’m not even me now, I’m Nan.” “You are Arya of Winterfell, daughter of the north. You told me you could be strong. You have the wolf blood in you.” - Arya, ACoK

And while Arya is travelling incognito, GRRM keeps her connected to the North, house Stark and the Northern plot. She starts her journey from KL with a NW brother Yoren. She’s disguised as a boy like Danny Flint, Manderly requests a song about brave Danny Flint at Ramsay’s wedding with ‘Arya’. In the Riverlands, Arya’s plot intersects with her father’s bannermen, she participates in the capture of Harrenhal for house Stark and is there for Roose Bolton’s war council. She meets both Roose Bolton and Aenys Frey – our antagonists in Winterfell facing off against Stannis in ADwD. She meets Robett Glover – who is currently in White Harbor - when she lets him out of the dungeons. She gets Jaqen to help her father’s men.

“Vargo Hoat’s come back with prisoners. I saw their badges. There’s a Glover, from Deepwood Motte, he’s my father’s man. The rest too, mostly.” All of a sudden, Arya knew why her feet had brought her here. “You have to help me get them out.” – Arya, ACoK

Arya looked. She knew all of her father’s men. The three in the grey cloaks were strangers. Arya, AGoT

Twin towers. Sunburst. Bloody man. Battle-axe. The battle-axe is for Cerwyn, and the white sun on black is Karstark. They’re northmen. My father’s men, and Robb’s. - Arya, ACoK

Harwin?” Arya whispered. It was! Under the beard and the tangled hair was the face of Hullen’s son, who used to lead her pony around the yard, ride at quintain with Jon and Robb, and drink too much on feast days. He was thinner, harder somehow, and at Winterfell he had never worn a beard, but it was him—her father’s man. Arya, ASoS

“I bet there are Winterfell men too.” Her father’s men, the Young Wolf’s men, the direwolves of Stark. - Arya, ASoS

Arya is also involved in betrothals/marriage – first to Elmar Frey and then married off to Ramsay Bolton to hold the North. As a side note, her connection to all these bastards is indeed interesting - Elmar Frey, Ramsay Bolton, Gendry and Jon Snow. Is GRRM trying to say something here?

We now have the Northerners and Freys that Arya sees in Harrenhal transposed to Winterfell and ‘her father’s men’ rising up for Arya Stark.

Now, we can speculate and assume that these Northerners would have done the same for the other Starks, but that’s not the point here. In the books, GRRM has written this story to revolve around Arya. The mountain clans are marching for ARYA. The Northern houses are fighting alongside Stannis for ARYA. When lady Barbrey Dustin points out the anger of the Northmen at the treatment of ‘Valiant Ned's precious little girl’ she is talking about ARYA.

GRRM has Stannis wanting to rescue Arya for Jon. He has Mance trying to rescue Arya for Jon. He has Jon breaking his vows and dying trying to rescue Arya. A large part of what drives this plot forward is that it’s Arya, and her special relationship with Jon Snow influences a lot of what is happening south of the wall. The story only happens this way with Arya in the North. And that’s why it’s Arya’s story and not that of any other Stark. Superimposing this or that Stark in place of Arya to make a case for why they would be leader of the North makes no sense. GRRM writing in the marriage of Arya Stark to hold the North makes the case for why Arya is important to the North.

So, Arya has actively helped free Northmen in the Riverlands, engaged with important Northerners and Freys at Harrenhal and drives the plot to take down the Boltons in the North. With her leadership skills, her ability to wield a weapon and fight, looking like Ned, following in Ned’s footsteps and advice, her fierce personality, her loyalty to bannermen, her desire for justice and to help the weak and powerless, her huge direwolf - she would be like the Kings in the North of yore. I think the Northerners will be fine with Arya Stark being the Stark in charge.

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Arya and Nymeria

“What if the wolves come?” “Yield,” Arya suggested - Arya, ACoK

The direwolves are an important part of the books, and an important aspect of the Starks.They are as much a part of the Starks as Dany’s dragons are a part of her. They cannot be ignored as unimportant pets who will end up serving no purpose.

“He is part of you, Robb. To fear him is to fear you.” - Catelyn, ASoS

Ghost did not count. Ghost was closer than a friend. Ghost was part of him - Jon, ADWD

“Part of you is Summer, and part of Summer is you. You know that, Bran.” - Bran, ACoK

“Wolves and women wed for life,” Haggon often said. “You take one, that’s a marriage. The wolf is part of you from that day on, and you’re part of him. Both of you will change.” - Varamyr, ADWD

You have five trueborn children,” Jon said. “Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord…The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark,” Jon pointed out. - Bran, AGoT

“Roose Bolton has Lord Eddard’s daughter. To thwart him White Harbor must have Ned’s son … and the direwolf. The wolf will prove the boy is who we say he is, should the Dreadfort attempt to deny him.“ - Davos, ADWD

GRRM has mentioned several times that they are important.

The Lannisters are always likening themselves to lions, for example, and their motto “Hear me roar” speaks of a certain way of looking at life. But I think for the Starks it goes a little bit beyond that, especially in this generation, with these direwolves. It’s more than just a handy metaphor with them - GRRM, interview

"Wolves have been part of European folklore, of which America's descended, going back thousands of years. In Rome, Romulus and Remus -- there's always been this relationship between wolves and men." That relationship is seen time and again in Martin's series, and it's one that will Martin says will continue as the last two books are eventually released. Arya's wolf, Nymeria, in particular, will play an important role. "You know, I don't like to give things away." says Martin, a grin spreading across his face. "But you don't hang a giant wolf pack on the wall unless you intend to use it." - GRRM interview

The direwolves are important especially for Arya whose theme is ‘The lone wolf dies but the pack survives’ and there are constant mentions of the pack in her POV chapters. Nymeria is an alpha, a leader of her pack like Arya is a leader of hers.

“She says there’s this great pack, hundreds of them, mankillers. The one that leads them is a she-wolf, a bitch from the seventh hell.” - Arya, ACoK

Throughout ACoK and ASoS, Arya mentions the wolves in the Riverlands. They appear to be just ahead of her or behind her. In her chapters there are mentions of wolves eating people, of Roose going wolf hunting. It’s almost like the wolves are traveling with her. They even help her escape – the wolf howl giving the signal – from harrenhal. And it’s possible the pack was picking off Roose Bolton’s riders chasing Arya because they were following right behind.

She could hear the sound of her own breath, and the wolves as well, a great pack of them now. They are closer than the one I heard in the godswood, she thought. They are calling to me. - Arya, ACoK

Once, from the crest of a ridge, she spied dark shapes crossing a stream in the valley behind them, and for half a heartbeat she feared that Roose Bolton’s riders were on them, but when she looked again she realized they were only a pack of wolves. She cupped her hands around her mouth and howled down at them, “Ahooooooooo, ahooooooooo.” When the largest of the wolves lifted its head and howled back, the sound made Arya shiver. - Arya ASoS

Nymeria keeps amassing this huge wolf pack and Arya being a strong warg can sense this

She was no little girl in the dream; she was a wolf, huge and powerful, and when she emerged from beneath the trees in front of them and bared her teeth in a low rumbling growl, she could smell the rank stench of fear from horse and man alike. - Arya, ASoS

She dreamed of wolves most every night. A great pack of wolves, with her at the head. She was bigger than any of them, stronger, swifter, faster. And her brothers and sisters were with her, many and more of them, fierce and terrible and hers. - Arya, ASoS

In her wolf dreams she was swift and strong, running down her prey with her pack at her heels. - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

The wolf dreams also helps Arya connect to Bran, Jon and Rickon. We see Ghost able to sense the other direwolves and Bran trying to communicate with Jon.

Nymeria is a grey wolf and the stark sigil is a grey wolf on a white background.

“The rain had washed the guard’s blood off her fingers, she wore a sword across her back, wolves were prowling through the dark like lean grey shadows, and Arya Stark was unafraid.” - Arya, ACoK

“Arya had her father’s eyes, the grey eyes of the Starks.” - Reek, ADwD

What’s in a name? I have already mentioned in another post, the symbolism of the names for the direwolves and them being an indication of the future for the Starks. Arya’s direwolf is named Nymeria – a Rhoynish warrior queen who led her people to safety. Something that Arya may well do in the future when the North is under attack from the Others.

More importantly, Nymeria in Dorne changed the customs and rules of house Martell to follow those of Rhoynar and allowed for female rulers. Nymeria herself was the first female leader and was followed by her daughter. Nymeria changed the norm for Dorne and we could see the same happening with Arya Stark in the North.

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Skills and Education

Look with your eyes, Syrio had said, listen with your ears.- Arya, ACoK

Education at Winterfell:

Arya was mainly taught by Septa Mordane and received the same education as Sansa. She would have been taught history and about the Faith by the Septa, she can read and write, and is good with sums. She’s better than Sansa at managing a household. She can ride a horse like a Northman and is an excellent swimmer. She knows some high Valyrian. Besides the Septa, Arya also hangs around Ned Stark when he is teaching the boys. Many of his words of wisdom that she remembers is from when he is teaching the boys. She mingles with her father’s men, the cooks, the stable boys etc.

Kings Landing:

Water Dancing style of swordfighting from Syrio Forel.

Harrenhal:

Being incognito allows Arya to move around like a mouse or the ghost of Harrenhal and observe and learn things. She is privy to Roose Bolton’s war council and listens to them discuss the Northern campaign against the Lannisters. We get the first inkling of the Red Wedding in these chapters between Roose and the Freys.

Arya observes the different people, analyzes their movements and figures out how to approach them.

The night she was caught, the Lannister men had been nameless strangers with faces as alike as their nasal helms, but she’d come to know them all. You had to know who was lazy and who was cruel, who was smart and who was stupid. You had to learn that even though the one they called Shitmouth had the foulest tongue she’d ever heard, he’d give you an extra piece of bread if you asked, while jolly old Chiswyck and soft-spoken Raff would just give you the back of their hand. - Arya, ACoK

And as lords and ladies never notice the little grey mice under their feet, Arya heard all sorts of secrets just by keeping her ears open as she went about her duties. Pretty Pia from the buttery was a slut who was working her way through every knight in the castle. The wife of the gaoler was with child, but the real father was either Ser Alyn Stackspear or a singer Lord Lefford made mock of ghosts at table, but always kept a candle burning by his bed. Ser Dunaver’s squire Jodge could not hold his water when he slept. The cooks despised Ser Harys Swyft and spit in all his food. Once she even overheard Maester Tothmure’s serving girl confiding to her brother about some message that said Joffrey was a bastard and not the rightful king at all. “Lord Tywin told him to burn the letter and never speak such filth again,” the girl whispered. - Arya, ACoK

She aids in the escape of the near hundred Northmen imprisoned in the dungeons and even Roose is impressed enough to make her his cupbearer. And the next time, she conceives of, plans and executes their entire escape all by herself. She plans for the logistics – weapons, transportation, people, travel route, what to wear. She makes sure she is warmly dressed, takes the map from Roose’s chamber, uses her position of cupbearer to manipulate several men, manipulates Gendry into escaping with her, takes down the guard and leads them away. It’s an endeavor that showcases her intelligence, cunning, determination, ability to strategize and lead.

Arya also shows a lot of restraint and keeps her secrets. She doesn’t trust the Glovers or any of the Northmen in Harrenhal - and considering the Red Wedding, it’s a good decision.

Their captors permitted no chatter. A broken lip taught Arya to hold her tongue. Others never learned at all. - Arya, ACoK

Arya watched them die and did nothing. What good did it do you to be brave? One of the women picked for questioning had tried to be brave, but she had died screaming like all the rest. There were no brave people on that march, only scared and hungry ones. - Arya, ACoK

On the road Arya had felt like a sheep, but Harrenhal turned her into a mouse. She was grey as a mouse in her scratchy wool shift, and like a mouse she kept to the crannies and crevices and dark holes of the castle, scurrying out of the way of the mighty.- Arya, ACoK

Braavos:

Arya’s education here is not limited to killing for the Faceless Men. She is also educated in poisons and languages. She improves on her high Valyrian and is now fluent in Braavosi and other Essosi languages. She learns acting/mummery. Not showing emotions on one’s face, detecting emotions in another person.

“A man does not need to be a wizard to know truth from falsehood, not if he has eyes. You need only learn to read a face. Look at the eyes. The mouth. The muscles here, at the corners of the jaw, and here, where the neck joins the shoulders.” He touched her lightly with two fingers. “Some liars blink. Some stare. Some look away. Some lick their lips. Many cover their mouths just before they tell a lie, as if to hide their deceit. Other signs may be more subtle, but they are always there. A false smile and a true one may look alike, but they are as different as dusk from dawn. Can you tell dusk from dawn?”

Arya nodded, though she was not certain that she could. “Then you can learn to see a lie… and once you do, no secret will be safe from you.” - Arya, AFFC

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People skills

“I will remember, Your Grace," said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people's loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I'll make them love me.” - Sansa, ACoK

Arya’s ability to make friends wherever she goes highlights her people skills. And Arya is able to communicate and connect with people from all walks of life.

Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody. - Sansa, AGoT

She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children., Arya, AGoT

Cat had made friends along the wharves; porters and mummers, ropemakers and sailmenders, taverners, Brewers and bakers and beggars and whores - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

Her girls were nice as well; Blushing Bethany and the Sailor’s Wife, one-eyed Yna who could tell your fortune from a drop of blood, pretty little Lanna, even Assadora, the Ibbenese woman with the mustache. They might not be beautiful, but they were kind to her - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

She’s also loyal to her pack. She doesn’t betray Jon even to her father. She helps free her father’s men. Despite Gendry talking of leaving Lommy or Weasel behind, she refuses. And despite the odds, she tries to help Gendry.

It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that they had Gendry. Even if he was stubborn and stupid, she had to get him out. She wondered if they knew that the queen wanted him. - Arya, ACoK

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Importance of being a Warg/Skinchanger

She was the night wolf, no scraps of skin could frighten her. - Arya, ADwD

Since this is a fantasy series, magic is a big part of the story with a magical existential apocalyptic threat on the horizon. The North is the first bastion facing this threat. Jon and Dany both have magical pets and prophetic dreams. Bran is the 3ER. They are leaders or will become leaders by the end. Arya is a strong warg/skinchanger. Apart from Jon and Bran, she’s the only other Stark to use these abilities so far. As GRRM as indicated, having a direwolf is going to be useful in battle – we are going to be seeing direwolves involved in the battle for Winterfell for example. Arya is able to warg Nymeria from all the way over in Braavos. She skinchanges cats and sees through their eyes, when she is blind. She is deft with a sword, knife and decent with a bow and arrow (she could be better now using her FM senses). She would be an effective fighter to have against the Others and her warging skills could prove useful in battle.

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Succession

I’m not a lady, Arya wanted to tell her, I’m a wolf. - Arya, ASoS

And finally we come to succession. This is the hardest part and entirely speculation and we need the next book to get an inkling of where GRRM is heading towards. I am also basing all of this on Hibberd more or less confirming that King Bran on the Iron Throne is GRRM’s ending.

So of the true born Starks, Arya is pretty much last in line. With the inclusion of Robb’s will, we have 5 Starks left. Bran is the rightful heir to the North. Taking him out of the running, leaves Jon, Rickon, Sansa and Arya. Assuming Jon ends up North of the wall – in his dreams the Old Kings in the North in the crypts reject him, maybe foreshadowing that he doesn’t belong in Winterfell - that leaves Rickon, Sansa and Arya.

As for Sansa, again there is a plot significant reason for why GRRM has put an obstacle in her path, allowing for Arya to jump the queue. Sansa is currently married to Tyrion Lannister, a marriage that cannot be easily annulled (With an enemy regime in KL) or ignored like the show did. Robb Stark has most likely disinherited/removed her from the line of succession and named a legitimized Jon Stark his heir and Lord of Winterfell. If he has the support of the Northern houses who want an experienced, older Stark to lead them, Jon Stark could well be the next KITN over Rickon Stark. I don’t think a 7 year old Rickon would object to Jon in charge. So that makes it Jon Stark, Rickon Stark and Arya Stark.

Does Rickon have to die for Arya to become Wardeness of the North? It’s possible Rickon dies, but it’s also possible he doesn’t. It could be that Rickon does not want to lead the North – by the end of the book, he would be 8 or 9. Of course there’s the argument of a regent doing the job for Rickon until he’s ready. Or, he could just give way to his sister because he wants to. Something similar to Aemon refusing the throne and it passing to his younger brother Aegon.

Or we could have the traditional situation where Rickon becomes lord of Winterfell as next in line, while it’s Arya who is involved in running the day to day affairs. However, that would very much be status quo - with Rickon at WF and Bran down south in KL, it would be men ending up in positions of power everywhere once again, except maybe Dorne. If this happens, then Arya would be a leader of the North, but the Stark line would continue with the male line.

It’s possible Jon Stark as King could change things for the North. Jon treats the spearwives the same as the brothers of the NW, he respects Val’s abilities, he trusts in Alys Karstark. If Rickon refuses the mantle, it could very well be that Jon Stark relinquishes his position to his favorite person ever, Arya Stark, to be the next Wardeness of the North. Thus paving the way for Arya Stark to be the first female leader of the North like her hero Nymeria in Dorne.

It would be fitting for the character who introduced Jon Snow to equal rights for women.

“The Lannisters are proud,” Jon observed. “You’d think the royal sigil would be sufficient, but no. He makes his mother’s House equal in honor to the king’s.”

“The woman is important too!” Arya protested. - Arya, AGoT

Could King Jon reverse Sansa’s disinheritance after her marriage is annulled when KL is in friendly hands? Sure. But we don’t know how the Sansa/LF/Vale group will react to Jon as KITN and whether they will mount a challenge in Sansa’s name. And if Jon has to choose between Sansa and Arya as to whom he wants in charge of Winterfell, we know who it is he will think is more capable and will always choose.

I do think Winterfell succession will not be as clearcut as many Stark fans are hoping. Too many factions supporting the different Starks. GRRM loves to write about dysfunctional families and the Starks are not anything special in that regard. TWoW will tell us of whether there will be any kind of Stark civil war.

Is Arya too young for all this? I predict that by the time we get to the end of the books, about 5 years would have gone by. At 14, Arya would still need a regent – one of the many lords of the houses in the North. But I think considering her experiences, skillsets, a huge direwolf, Ned Stark’s wisdom and strong connections to the North, she will be an able leader. As GRRM said,

“[Arya is] older than some of the 40-year-olds in the book.” - GRRM

Either way, whether she gets Winterfell or not, Arya will end up as a leader in the North. Either she rules for Rickon and takes care of the day to day responsibilities or she does so in her own right as Lady of Winterfell/Wardeness of the North. She’s not going anywhere or sailing off on a boat. The show’s ending makes absolutely no sense for a character yearning for home in 5 books after going on the nightmare ‘adventure’ from hell. She will be in the North, in Winterfell, being a leader and continuing Ned Stark’s legacy. She will counsel her brothers and build and her people will love her just like they loved her father.

So in conclusion, I think there is enough story, character build up, characterization and set up for Arya to go North and take over as a leader of house Stark to face the threat of the Others along with Bran, Jon, Dany and Tyrion.

#Arya Stark #asoiaf #TWoW speculation

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