#ser gregor clegane

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

Prince Rhaegar as a character often gets some deserved criticism - and a lot of underserved hate. And one of the things that I think he unfairly gets blamed for is Elia Martell's tragedy. Elia's death is one of the primary objections people have towards Rhaegar and Lyanna being depicted as a romance, with readers believing that if they were just tragic lovers, then that diminishes Elia's own tragedy.

I...disagree. It is understandable (and honestly right) that readers would rally behind Elia. Not only was she horribly brutalized and murdered, but her children suffered absolutely terrible fates as well.

However, in trying to center Rhaegar and Lyanna's doomed dalliance in this, a lot of readers are missing the answer that has been already provided to us within the narrative. Not only that, but this line of thinking also ignores the key context in which Elia's senseless murder is portrayed.

As far as the text goes, Elia’s death is laid squarely at the feet of Tywin Lannister and his men, Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch. It's House Lannister's burden to bear.

Doran for one, Elia's brother, directly blames Tywin Lannister:

“You mistake patience for forbearance. I have worked at the downfall of Tywin Lannister since the day they told me of Elia and her children.”

The Princess in the Tower, AFFC

Even Oberyn agrees:

“Dwarf,” said the Red Viper, in a tone grown markedly less cordial, “spare me your Lannister lies. Is it sheep you take us for, or fools? My brother is not a bloodthirsty man, but neither has he been asleep for sixteen years. Jon Arryn came to Sunspear the year after Robert took the throne, and you can be sure that he was questioned closely. Him, and a hundred more. I did not come for some mummer’s show of an inquiry. I came for justice for Elia and her children, and I will have it. Starting with this lummox Gregor Clegane … but not, I think, ending there. Before he dies, the Enormity That Rides will tell me whence came his orders, please assure your lord father of that.” He smiled. “An old septon once claimed I was living proof of the goodness of the gods. Do you know why that is, Imp?”

Tyrion IV, ASOS

“Is that the game we are playing?” Tyrion rubbed at his scarred nose. He had nothing to lose by telling Oberyn the truth. “There was a bear at Harrenhal, and it did kill Ser Amory Lorch.” “How sad for him,” said the Red Viper. “And for you. Do all noseless men lie so badly, I wonder?” “I am not lying. Ser Amory dragged Princess Rhaenys out from under her father’s bed and stabbed her to death. He had some men-at-arms with him, but I do not know their names.” He leaned forward. “It was Ser Gregor Clegane who smashed Prince Aegon’s head against a wall and raped your sister Elia with his blood and brains still on his hands.” “What is this, now? Truth, from a Lannister?” Oberyn smiled coldly. “Your father gave the commands, yes?” “No.” He spoke the lie without hesitation, and never stopped to ask himself why he should. The Dornishman raised one thin black eyebrow. “Such a dutiful son. And such a very feeble lie. It was Lord Tywin who presented my sister’s children to King Robert all wrapped up in crimson Lannister cloaks.”

Tyrion IX, ASOS

“Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne,” the Red Viper hissed. “You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children…“I came to hear you confess.”

Tyrion X, ASOS

Varys and Tyrion both understand that House Martell (but more specifically Doran) hates the Lannisters.

“The Dornishmen thus far have held aloof from these wars. Doran Martell has called his banners, but no more. His hatred for House Lannister is well known, and it is commonly thought he will join Lord Renly. You wish to dissuade him.” “All this is obvious,” said Tyrion. “The only puzzle is what you might have offered for his allegiance. The prince is a sentimental man, and he still mourns his sister Elia and her sweet babe.” “My father once told me that a lord never lets sentiment get in the way of ambition … and it happens we have an empty seat on the small council, now that Lord Janos has taken the black.” “A council seat is not to be despised,” Varys admitted, “yet will it be enough to make a proud man forget his sister’s murder?” “Why forget?” Tyrion smiled. “I’ve promised to deliver his sister’s killers, alive or dead, as he prefers. After the war is done, to be sure.” Varys gave him a shrewd look. “My little birds tell me that Princess Elia cried a … certain name … when they came for her.” “Is a secret still a secret if everyone knows it?” In Casterly Rock, it was common knowledge that Gregor Clegane had killed Elia and her babe. They said he had raped the princess with her son’s blood and brains still on his hands. “This secret is your lord father’s sworn man.” “My father would be the first to tell you that fifty thousand Dornishmen are worth one rabid dog.” Varys stroked a powdered cheek. “And if Prince Doran demands the blood of the lord who gave the command as well as the knight who did the deed …” “Robert Baratheon led the rebellion. All commands came from him, in the end.” “Robert was not at King’s Landing.” “Neither was Doran Martell.”

Tyrion IV, ACOK

Really, all the nobles know where to look at when assigning blame for Elia's murder. Tywin.

“Prince Doran comes at my son’s invitation,” Lord Tywin said calmly, “not only to join in our celebration, but to claim his seat on this council, and the justice Robert denied him for the murder of his sister Elia and her children.” Tyrion watched the faces of the Lords Tyrell, Redwyne, and Rowan, wondering if any of the three would be bold enough to say, “But Lord Tywin, wasn’t it you who presented the bodies to Robert, all wrapped up in Lannister cloaks?” None of them did, but it was there on their faces all the same. Redwyne does not give a fig, he thought, but Rowan looks fit to gag.

Tywin, for the most part, quite shamelessly tries to disassociate himself from his own moral failings; this is nothing new, because he follows this same MO with squarely blaming the Freys for the Red Wedding even though he played an integral part in planning for it.

“Then why did the Mountain kill her?” “Because I did not tell him to spare her. I doubt I mentioned her at all. I had more pressing concerns. Ned Stark’s van was rushing south from the Trident, and I feared it might come to swords between us. And it was in Aerys to murder Jaime, with no more cause than spite. That was the thing I feared most. That, and what Jaime himself might do.” He closed a fist. “Nor did I yet grasp what I had in Gregor Clegane, only that he was huge and terrible in battle. The rape … even you will not accuse me of giving that command, I would hope. Ser Amory was almost as bestial with Rhaenys. I asked him afterward why it had required half a hundred thrusts to kill a girl of … two? Three? He said she’d kicked him and would not stop screaming. If Lorch had half the wits the gods gave a turnip, he would have calmed her with a few sweet words and used a soft silk pillow.” His mouth twisted in distaste. “The blood was in him.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

“And when Oberyn demands the justice he’s come for?” “I will tell him that Ser Amory Lorch killed Elia and her children,” Lord Tywin said calmly. “So will you, if he asks.” “Ser Amory Lorch is dead,” Tyrion said flatly. “Precisely. Vargo Hoat had Ser Amory torn apart by a bear after the fall of Harrenhal. That ought to be sufficiently grisly to appease even Oberyn Martell.” “You may call that justice …” “It is justice. It was Ser Amory who brought me the girl’s body, if you must know. He found her hiding under her father’s bed, as if she believed Rhaegar could still protect her. Princess Elia and the babe were in the nursery a floor below.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

Tywin tries to alleviate himself of any responsibility by blaming his men, but the narrative actively calls bullshit on this (through Tywin's own son no less).

So the narrative shows through multiple POVs that Elia's murder is contextualized exclusively as a failing on Tywin Lannister and his men; not only was it a moral failing, but Tyrion also questions if it was politically necessary in the first place. It's also important to note that ASOS is when we really dive into the matter of Elia and her children (mostly through Oberyn), but we also have to remember that this is the same book as the Red Wedding. The Red Wedding, another one of Tywin's senseless massacres that he tries to postulate as politically necessary.

So, we have agreed that the blame and context for Elia's (and her children's) murder is presented through the lens of Tywin as an immoral politician who often makes politically unnecessary moves. But then we ask ourselves, can the responsibility of this tragedy be extended? Well, yes it can. And it has been in the text.

Ser Barristan extends this tragedy beyond Tywin and his men

...to King Robert.

“Prince Rhaegar had two children,” Ser Barristan told him. “Rhaenys was a little girl, Aegon a babe in arms. When Tywin Lannister took King’s Landing, his men killed both of them. He served the bloody bodies up in crimson cloaks, a gift for the new king.” And what did Robert say when he saw them? Did he smile? Barristan Selmy had been badly wounded on the Trident, so he had been spared the sight of Lord Tywin’s gift, but oft he wondered. If I had seen him smile over the red ruins of Rhaegar’s children, no army on this earth could have stopped me from killing him. “I will not suffer the murder of children. Accept that, or I’ll have no part of this.”

The Kingbreaker, ADWD

Ned Stark does as well.

Ned did not feign surprise; Robert’s hatred of the Targaryens was a madness in him. He remembered the angry words they had exchanged when Tywin Lannister had presented Robert with the corpses of Rhaegar’s wife and children as a token of fealty. Ned had named that murder; Robert called it war. When he had protested that the young prince and princess were no more than babes, his new-made king had replied, “I see no babes. Only dragonspawn.” Not even Jon Arryn had been able to calm that storm. Eddard Stark had ridden out that very day in a cold rage, to fight the last battles of the war alone in the south. It had taken another death to reconcile them; Lyanna’s death, and the grief they had shared over her passing.

Eddard II, AGOT

And so does Tywin, who uses Robert's tacit approval as justification for this senseless act.

Lord Tywin stared at him as if he had lost his wits. “You deserve that motley, then. We had come late to Robert’s cause. It was necessary to demonstrate our loyalty. When I laid those bodies before the throne, no man could doubt that we had forsaken House Targaryen forever. And Robert’s relief was palpable. As stupid as he was, even he knew that Rhaegar’s children had to die if his throne was ever to be secure. Yet he saw himself as a hero, and heroes do not kill children.” His father shrugged. “I grant you, it was done too brutally. Elia need not have been harmed at all, that was sheer folly. By herself she was nothing.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

So if we can't extend the blame to Rhaegar, because the narrative doesn't do so either, what can we hold him responsible for? Let's take a step back and look at Rhaegar's culpability in this whole thing.

Was Rhaegar (and Lyanna) responsible for starting the war that would eventually lead to Elia's murder?

No. GRRM doesn't think so. The war actually started when King Aerys murdered the Lord of Winterfell and his heir, a bunch of other northern nobles, and then called for the heads of Robert Baratheon (Lord of Storm's End) and Ned Stark (the new Lord of Winterfell). Aerys broke the feudal contract, and so Jon Arryn declared war.

I don't think I would have stayed loyal to the Mad King. Do I think they were justified? Yes, and no. [...] There was no doubt that the Mad King was mad. He was paranoid and he was abusing his power. And Westeros has no Magna Carta or anything like that. There was no way to handle this within the rule of law. But was what they do justified? Especially when you consider that it was triggered by a personal grievance. The execution of Ned's father and brother was really a thing that radicalized Ned and put him in opposition to it. Robert was just rolling for a fight and didn't like the fact that he'd lost his girlfriend. So you know, the personal informs the political.

source

Rhaegar and Lyanna's disappearance was merely the spark - it led to a misunderstanding that caused Brandon Stark to ride to Kingslanding. What really caused the war was Aerys' Targaryens subsequent actions as the king. So if we want to blame someone for causing the chain of events that led to Elia's death as well as her children's, the author himself says to blame Aerys; even though I don't think this is right either because we once again stray from the necessary (and sole) context of Elia's murder - Tywin's bloody hands.

Fine. Rhaegar was not responsible for the war. But surely he is responsible for leaving Elia in King's Landing, right in the clutches of Mad King Aerys. Well, this again, is not true. As far as Rhaegar knew, Elia was in Dragonstone with Aegon and Rhaenys where he left them.

As cold winds hammered the city, King Aerys II turned to his pyromancers, charging them to drive the winter off with their magics. Huge green fires burned along the walls of the Red Keep for a moon’s turn. Prince Rhaegar was not in the city to observe them, however. Nor could he be found in Dragonstone with Princess Elia and their young son, Aegon.

“The Year of the False Spring”, The World of Ice and Fire

At some point, Elia was called to King's Landing. And it was Aerys who kept her hostage there as insurance against possible Dornish betrayal (remember, he was paranoid).

Side Note: Aerys kept another important political hostage in King's Landing along with Elia - Jaime Lannister; this is to deter anyone from trying to blame Jaime for doing nothing. He was a teenager and a hostage himself!

“My Sworn Brothers were all away, you see, but Aerys liked to keep me close. I was my father’s son, so he did not trust me. He wanted me where Varys could watch me, day and night. So I heard it all.” He remembered how Rossart’s eyes would shine when he unrolled his maps to show where the substance must be placed. Garigus and Belis were the same. “Rhaegar met Robert on the Trident, and you know what happened there. When the word reached court, Aerys packed the queen off to Dragonstone with Prince Viserys. Princess Elia would have gone as well, but he forbade it. Somehow he had gotten it in his head that Prince Lewyn must have betrayed Rhaegar on the Trident, but he thought he could keep Dorne loyal so long as he kept Elia and Aegon by his side. The traitors want my city, I heard him tell Rossart, but I’ll give them naught but ashes. Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat. The Targaryens never bury their dead, they burn them. Aerys meant to have the greatest funeral pyre of them all. Though if truth be told, I do not believe he truly expected to die. Like Aerion Brightfire before him, Aerys thought the fire would transform him … that he would rise again, reborn as a dragon, and turn all his enemies to ash.

Jaime V, ASOS

Ok, fine. So Rhaegar did not abandon her with Aerys then run off to Lyanna. But he should have done something when he came back, right? Why didn't he leave more Kings Guard with Elia and the children?

Well....this is a war. The knights of the KG are important assets on the battle field. Kings Landing, at the time, was not the most dangerous location. The KG were better off at the Trident, as a victory there would protect those who were left behind in KL.

And it's not that Rhaegar didn't do anything. Beyond going off to lead the battle himself, he tried to make moves that would help those who were back in KL (Elia and the children included).

He floated in heat, in memory. “After dancing griffins lost the Battle of the Bells, Aerys exiled him.” Why am I telling this absurd ugly child? “He had finally realized that Robert was no mere outlaw lord to be crushed at whim, but the greatest threat House Targaryen had faced since Daemon Blackfyre. The king reminded Lewyn Martell gracelessly that he held Elia and sent him to take command of the ten thousand Dornishmen coming up the kingsroad. Jon Darry and Barristan Selmy rode to Stoney Sept to rally what they could of griffins’ men, and Prince Rhaegar returned from the south and persuaded his father to swallow his pride and summon my father. But no raven returned from Casterly Rock, and that made the king even more afraid. He saw traitors everywhere, and Varys was always there to point out any he might have missed. So His Grace commanded his alchemists to place caches of wildfire all over King’s Landing. Beneath Baelor’s Sept and the hovels of Flea Bottom, under stables and storehouses, at all seven gates, even in the cellars of the Red Keep itself.

Jaime V ASOS

And Jaime's POV once again shows us that Rhaegar banked on victory at the Trident, and was fully expecting to come back to KL and amend the fraught political situation.

The day had been windy when he said farewell to Rhaegar, in the yard of the Red Keep. The prince had donned his night-black armor, with the three-headed dragon picked out in rubies on his breastplate. “Your Grace,” Jaime had pleaded, “let Darry stay to guard the king this once, or Ser Barristan. Their cloaks are as white as mine.” Prince Rhaegar shook his head. “My royal sire fears your father more than he does our cousin Robert. He wants you close, so Lord Tywin cannot harm him. I dare not take that crutch away from him at such an hour.” Jaime’s anger had risen up in his throat. “I am not a crutch. I am a knight of the Kingsguard.” “Then guard the king,” Ser Jon Darry snapped at him. “When you donned that cloak, you promised to obey.” Rhaegar had put his hand on Jaime’s shoulder. “When this battle’s done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but … well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return.”

Jaime I, AFFC

So Rhaegar wasn't leaving with no care about what happened back in King's Landing. We don't know what he wanted to do with Aerys, Elia, Lyanna, and the aftermath of the war because he died at the Trident. But we do know that he, at the very least, was planning to do something.

So we can't blame Rhaegar (and Lyanna) for starting the war and we can't blame him either for abandoning Elia in King's Landing with no care about what happens next. So, again, what can we blame him for?

“It's not entirely correct that the Martells stayed out of the war. Rhaegar had Dornish troops with him on the Trident, under the command of Prince Lewyn of the Kingsguard. However, the Dornishmen did not support him as strongly as they might have, in part because of anger at his treatment of Elia, in part because of Prince Doran's innate caution.”

SSM, 09/11/1999

GRRM states that Dorne was angry about Rhaegar's treatment of Elia. What is this treatment, though?

Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty’s laurel in Lyanna’s lap.

Eddard XV, AGOT

Specifically, Rhaegar riding past Elia to crown Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty. Yes, that is a humiliation. And it's undeniable that no one was happy.

The crowning of the Stark girl, who was by all reports a wild and boyish young thing with none of the Princess Elia’s delicate beauty, could only have been meant to win the allegiance of Winterfell to Prince Rhaegar’s cause…Yet if this were true, why did Lady Lyanna’s brothers seem so distraught at the honor the prince had bestowed upon her? Brandon Stark, the heir to Winterfell, had to be restrained from confronting Rhaegar at what he took as a slight upon his sister’s honor…Eddard Stark, Brandon’s younger brother and a close friend to Lord Robert, was calmer but no more pleased.

“The Year of the False Spring”, The World of Ice and Fire

But, humiliating Elia is not the same thing as being responsible for her death. The narrative never equates these two things in any way. Elia's death is about Tywin's immoral and blood thirsty political actions. It's about Dorne's desire for justice (or is it vengeance?) which they know they will not get from the Lannister regime. House Lannister's downfall in King's Landing will be brought about by Prince Aegon's rise - Aegon who is proclaiming to be the long lost son of Prince Rhaegar, and who is being supported by House Martell as of now.

We can criticize Rhaegar for some things, but Elia's death is surely not one of them.

#I generally don't like talking about the whole rhaegar-lyanna-elia stuff partly because I don't really care for either of them #but mostly because these topics often devolve into extremes that help absolutely no one #but I just wanted to hop on here and say that blaming rhaegar for elia's death is imo not cannon compliant #the narrative already give us an answer to this - THE LANNISTERS but more specifically TYWIN and GREGOR and AMORY #it's not rhaegar or lyanna or their child Jon to bear any of the blame in this #dorne's decision to join the war against the crown is entirely because it's in opposition to the lannister regime #that's not to say that rhaegar cannot have responsibility for the humiliation of elia - because even grrm says he does #but saying he bears the blame for her murder is just a bit.....😕 #also rhaegar is one thing but blaming LYANNA of all people is ummm well #rhaegar targaryen #robert's rebellion #tywin lannister #ser gregor clegane #ser amory lorch #house martell #elia martell #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #pls forgive any spelling and grammatical mistakes its midnights and I'm tired af thanks #my stuff

[chasingthedragons]

Kingsguard armor through the ages

Ser Harrold Westerling, Ser Criston Cole and the twins Ser Arryk & Erryk Cargyll

Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning & Ser Gerold Hightower at the Tower of Joy

Ser Meryn Trant, Sandor Clegane the Hound, Ser Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer, Ser Gregor Clegane the Mountain & Ser Barristan Selmy

#house of the dragon #hotd #asoiaf #game of thrones #got #kingsguard #ser harrold westerling #ser criston cole #ser erryk cargyll #ser arryk cargyll #ser gerold hightower #ser arthur dayne #ser meryn trant #sandor clegane #ser jaime lannister #ser gregor clegane #ser barristan selmy #hotd fashion

[ligawolfcosplayandarts]

Stumbled upon shirtless Gregor Clegane with braids art so I decided drop mine. Ft unfinished one with HouseClegane tank top.

I draw both brothers of House Clegane hairy asf because it would be sin drawing Sandor covered in hair and Gregor bald chested😩

I draw Sandor more shredded and Gregor is bulky one. I need drop shirtless Sandor art at some point.

Hope Greg's tiddies won't be flagged because they're huuuge

#fanart #artist #asoiaf #game of thrones #asoiaf fanart #the mountain #asoiaf mountain #gregor clegane #ser Gregor Clegane #house Clegane

[tronodiferro]

House Clegane of Clegane's Keep

GameOfThronesFanatic-Knjiga

#House Lannister #House Clegane #Clegane's Keep #Westeros #George R. R. Martin #ASOIAF #A Song of Ice and Fire #Game of Thrones #House of the Dragon #asoiafart #GOT #HOTD #coat of arms #FUCK THE KING #The Hound #Sandor Clegane #ser Gregor Clegane

[super-sootica]

I've done a lot of these polls, so let's get ahead of a few things.

His name is Ser Gregor Clegane - Yeah but The Mountain sounds cooler

Why not use the actors name? Hafþór Júlíus Björnsson (one of the actors who played The Mountain) - because he seems a nice man so I'd rather Bruce Lee hurt The Mountain

Of course you're supposed to assume both are alive, in this reality and in the prime of life-ish

'OP you know nothing' Well duuuh

#poll #tumblr poll #fight #bruce lee #the mountain #ser gregor clegane #Hafþór Júlíus Björnsson #got #game of thrones

[wildfirefruitjars]

Guess I wasn't completely done with family portraits, for here is house Clegane! Though this time I made it more difficult for myself and didn't just draw siblings, but also parents, and because I hate myself I also drew said siblings as kids... I had fun, tho! It was fun playing around with how much or little I wanted them to look like each other, and it was of course quite the challenge to "babify" the characters!

Oh well, first of course have Daddy and Mommy Clegane! We know very little about either, but I like to imagine they hate each other <3

Gregor I took great pleasure in giving freckles as freckles are adorable and Gregor is anything but! Also I wanted him to look around twelve as a kid, but he looks older... but that's fine, we know he was a huge preteen anyways!

The Piss-puppy himself, Sandor. I've drawn his scar on his right instead of his left as I usually do, as somebody (Sansa) is very confusing/inconsistent about what side it is! -_- Also babby Sandor is supposed to be around seven (again, looks too old, but Cleganes just grow quick, ok!) I was just gonna draw him post-burn, but then I was struck by the powerful urge to give him a bowl cut, which just wouldn't work well when bald on one side!

And then we have the sister, whose tooth was definitely knocked out by Gregor! She is supposed to be around five as a kid.

The sister is actually the reason I drew them as children as well as adults. All we know about the sister is that she died young under queer circumstances, which is rumored to be Gregor's fault. We don't even know where she lays age wise in the sibling order! But by dying young, I assume she probably died while under ten, but I originally didn't wanna draw kids, as I wanted to draw facial features and young children are just round-faced, button nosed blobs, so I just drew her as an adult! But then I decided I ought to challenge myself, and I drew babies!

If anybody somehow was bored enough to read my whole ramble, I'm sorry... as a bonus you can get to hear my headcanon names for the unnamed Cleganes!

I like to call daddy Clegane for Rolder and his father for Caspor (whom I might draw one day) Mommy Clegane I've decides to name Tanda and for the sister I've chosen Lynora :P

#asoiaf #asoiaf art #valyrianscrolls #my art #house clegane #how the fuck do I tag the parents??? #daddy clegane #Ser clegane #mommy clegane #lady clegane #that'll do #gregor clegane #sandor clegane #shit the sister needs a tag too... #clegane sister

[crazy-dane-art]

Is it really a family photo if there's no chaos

#my art #ASOIAF #ASOIAF fanart #Valyrianscrolls #color wheel trend #Asha Greyjoy #Tommen Baratheon #ASOIAF Boots #ASOIAF Lady Whiskers #ASOIAF Ser Pounce #Sandor the Hound Clegane #Gregor the Mountain Clegane #Joffrey Baratheon #ASOIAF Lady #Theon Greyjoy #Euron Greyjoy #The only reason no one is dying is because Gregor is higher than the Wall

[allovesthings]

I've been thinking about of the double standard in this fandom and it's so aggravating sometimes.

This post started because I was thinking Rhaenyra and house of the dragon (the tv show) so I'll talk about her and that show first, with the videos calling her "the mad queen" for *checking note* turning around and looking mad at the camera because her son is dead while we never hear the same thing when Aemond ask his nephew to give his own eye out and then chase him with a gigantic dragon through a storm. Or Crispin bashing the head of someone at a Banquet because he was mad...

I feel like the most obvious one is Dany but this is a problem of GOT portraying Dany as "the mad queen" and the fandom applying it to the books when someone else very obviously have parallels and foreshadowing for it and it's not Dany (hint: it's start with a C and end with Ersei) and it really bother me especially considering people like Tywin Lannister who sacked King's Landing, ordered the murder of children, plotted the red wedding, destroyed two entire houses or the Boltons who were also part of the red wedding AND are known to flay people alive or even the Freys (who while not liked by the fandom are not called mad either) also part of the red wedding as a response to an offence that was repaid with the wedding of Edmure or the Mountain who has done more horrific things than anyone else and they are also never being called "mad" for that.

And then we get to Arya being too far gone and leaving on a boat out of society because she is being trained as an assassin (as if her part of her storyline was not about her finding a place in society as a gender-non conforming girl and not being able to lose her identity as Arya Stark through everything ), when there are men like Jaime or Sandor Clegane (or even Theon) who have killed children (or tried to for Jaime) and lost theirs identity to some extent and still seen as sympathetic and there no doubts in the fandom's mind that they are not too far gone and have a chance to come back from the horrors they"ve done.

Which leads me to Catelyn and Lady Stoneheart. While I do agree that she might be different as Lady Stoneheart (being killed in an horrifying manner after watching her oldest dies also in a horrifying way would do that to you), this is not really criticism and more of an open-ended thing that's been going through my mind. If we compare the theories on Lady Stoneheart and Jon post resurrection, both of them being more vengeful seems to be the main theory but only Cat is getting killed again by Arya because "she is too far gone in her vengeance". Part of it is actual foreshadowing that could be there (not sure if I believe it but I think the hints could point to it) but part of it feels like it's not.

#i wanted to add Daemon as an counter-example for Rhaenyra but i aslo have feelings (tm) about how he is adapted through the screen #and i didn't want to use him and then go on a tengent #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #hotd #house of the dragons #rhaenyra targaryen #daenerys targaryen #arya stark #catelyn stark #lady stoneheart #jon snow #tywin lannister #the mountain #gregor clegane #sandor clegane #theon greyjoy #aemond targaryen #ser criston cole #ser crispin #some reactors when Rhaenyra turn to the camera furious because her son is dead: #she is going to 'burn them all' #me: #and i took that personally

[enterprise420patriots]

Game of Thrones: Episode: “Mockingbird” 

#game of thrones #got #mockingbird #house lannister #cersei lannister #lannister #the seven kingdoms #westeros #the iron throne #a song of ice and fire #kings landing #gregor clegane #house clegane #ser gregor #the mountain #winter is coming #winter is here #hd #screencaps #screencap #hd screencaps #queen cersei

[first-of-her-nxme]

I was rereading agot and I think that maybe Jaqen could have tried to kill Gregor? At the tourney where he is basically competing with Loras his horse is acting up. I remember from the chapter of Arya at the HoBaW with the poisons lesson and there is one used in animals too, to make them mad or something. He heard maybe how Ser Hugh was killed so he tried to use the tourney the same way to kill him. Idk it’s interesting to read the first book bc I feel like there are so many clues and esp when you read theories then everything starts to feel kind of insane thinking it’s actually something. Grrm we need the books please..😭😏

What a great question! You are very observant.

I must say I don't really subscribe to the horse theory because I think it takes a lot more to kill Gregor. Though maybe it was a warm up? :) You are right though: Jaqen's goal is to kill Gregor as well. Moreover, it has already been established in the books that he will kill him.

I suppose the original plan was that Oberyn would kill Gregor. Oberyn was older, at the time he must have been stronger than young Jaqen. Oberyn also had a history of beating the seemingly stronger opponents. And, as we know, he wanted the revenge badly.

Oberyn succeeded but he also got killed in the process. And Qyburn managed to revive what was left of Gregor and turned him into an even worse monster. And that monster will be eventually killed by "Jaqen". Perhaps, GRRM wanted both, Oberyn and "Jaqen", to have their revenge on the one who brutally murdered their sister/mother?

GRRM here makes a nod to the legend of Ragnar. When Ragnar was captured he promised that his sons would one day come and avenge his father:

How the little piggies will grunt when they hear how the old boar suffered.

The old boar is Ragnar and the piglets, his sons. They did avenge their father, killing the king who sentenced him to death.

Here is how GRRM incorporated it into ASOIAF:

Robert Baratheon was killed by a boar. The hunting scene looked similar to Robert's and Rhaegar's duel at the Trident. Robert seemed fatally wounded and about to fall but he still managed to kill the boar. So, the boar here stands for Rhaegar. Then, Rhaegar's son, Aegon/Jaqen, arrived in King's Landing with his plan of revenge. Aegon then went to Oldtown and assumed the identity of the "little pig" - Pate called Pate the Pig Boy. So, we have a killed boar, Rhaegar, and his son, the young pig boy, Aegon/Jaqen, and his revenge.

Robert was called strong. Now, when Qyburn revived Gregor, they called him Ser Robert Strong. So, he is not only Gregor, he is also symbolically Robert Baratheon. The pig boy will return to kill the murderer of his mother and also, symbolically, the killer of his father, Rhaegar "the old boar".

There is another reference to a duel between Jaqen and Ser Robert. It's in A Dance with Dragons, in Jon's POV, when Shireen meets the giant, Wun Weg Wun. It's tremendously important to remember that Shireen and Patchface are foils for Arya and Jaqen. And this little scene is loaded with foreshadowing for them, not for Shireen.

"Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun." The giant's voice rumbled like a boulder crashing down a mountainside. He sank to his knees before them. Even kneeling, he loomed over them. "Kneel queen. Little queen." Words that Leathers had taught him, no doubt.

Princess Shireen's eyes went wide as dinner plates. - ADWD

The giant calls Shireen little queen even though she is a princess. GRRM wrote it like that because the little queen title refers to Arya's future plot. Patchface here is dressed like a king so we have a royal couple in the room. The giant takes interest in Patches and it frightens "the king". Patchface is dancing but he eventually lands on his bottom. And we get this riddle from him:

"In the dark the dead are dancing." - Patchface, ADWD

This little scene is another hint at the duel between the giant, Ser Robert Strong, and the rightful king, Aegon/Jaqen.

Dancing stands in for fighting. The dead means that they are both assumed dead, Gregor was killed by Oberyn and Aegon was supposed to die in King's Landing. It might also mean that they both will die though not necessary both during that duel. Them dancing/fighting in the dark means that A/J will have to put his blind training to use. As you know, all faceless men learn to fight while blinded. Oberyn lost the fight when Gregor blinded him. I do hope that Ser Robert won't blind A/J. However, Ser Robert never opens his visor so perhaps there will be a demand for A/J to fight with his visor closed as well. The duel might take place in King's Landing during the trial by combat, so some authority might force their rules on the fighters.

I hope it sheds a little light on the events to come.

Thank you for dropping by, Anon!

#jaqen h'ghar #gregor clegane #ser robert strong #aegon targaryen #rhaegar targaryen #robert baratheon #arya stark #patchface #patchface's riddles #shireen baratheon #jaqen x arya #arya x jaqen #asoiaf #asoiaf meta

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Realm's Delight

Summary: You were the twin of the dark haired child Cersei had with Robert. While fever took your twin, you survived. You are known throughout the seven kingdom as the realm's delight. The years has passed and your younger brother Joffrey wants something you have. Sandor Clegane x Baratheon! Reader

A/n: Let me know if you enjoy this. Likes and comments are appreciated. Enjoy -L

Warning: NSFW, being the it girl, Joffrey being Joffrey, Robert is nice to us, manipulation at its finest, daddy's girl, princess wants princess gets, territorial!

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It was a miracle.” Robert Baratheon, your father told you. You had survived the horrid fever that took your twin brother away. It was a secret that was kept among the Lannisters and only Robert. While Cersei was in mourning of the loss of her son, Robert’s was cut short. Cersei always resented him for that and that he gave you his undivided attention. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew how Robert adored you. Some had even said that he loves you more than his own wife, Cersei and as you grew, he practically gave you whatever your heart desired. Your father wasn’t the only one to give you gifts. Fur straight from House Stark, jewels and the finest dresses from House Martell. Seafood freshly caught by House Greyjoy. The list of gifts went on and on. You were named the realm’s delight among the people. 

When Robert learned about the nickname that you have been given he feared that you will have the same fate as Lyanna Stark. Robert decided to do what was best, keep you protected at all times. Robert declared for Sandor Clegane to become your personal guard. Cersei had cried out to Robert about it. He is a monstrosity and hideous beast, she ranted. You heard of the Clegane’s brothers. Lord Baelish always been somewhat kind enough to keep you up to date about the accomplishments Ser Gregor had done along with Sandor’s. 

“A flower like you shouldn’t be guarded by such an animal.” Lord Baelish exclaimed as his wandering eyes looked up and down that you. You grabbed a hold of his hands. Lord Baelish blushed from the sudden contact. 

“I will grow to be the most beautiful flower because of that animal.” You whispered to Lord Baelish who honestly wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying. 

You were so close to him, his mind was in the gutters. Rolling your eyes when you turn away to leave Lord Baelish, you wipe your hands on your dress while walking away from him. Men, they will always think with their cock. Cersei had told you after she had too many cups of wine. Your uncle, Jamie had laughed at her and tried to take her back to her chambers before she said anything else. That’s how you used Lord Baelish to tell you about the gossip going around. A praise, batting your eyelashes at him or giving him a smile was all needed for him to tell you what you wanted to know. 

When Sandor was presented to you for the first time, you were surprised. He was the second tallest man you ever seen, his brother was the first. He had lowered his head as he entered the chambers so he wouldn’t hit the door frame. Robert had taken your hand and pulled you towards Sandor. You noticed Sandor had the most beautiful brown eyes you've ever seen. Brown, like the earth and as the light hit his eyes, they looked like honey. You got a closer look when he knelt in front of you and vowed to keep you safe. You knew about the story of his burn scars. It took you an afternoon with Lord Baelish, drinking tea to learn about it. You had taken a liking to Sandor when he became your guard. He was too silent for your liking but that meant you had to break his walls down. 

Sandor stood and waited with you outside of your mother’s chambers. She was going to give birth to her second child. Sandor had mumbled to you to keep still since you kept walking back and forth, worried every time you heard your mother’s screams. You were about to say something when the screams stopped. Joffrey was born, and he was healthy. King Robert had his heir to the iron throne. Cersei had two other children after that and your relationship with her became unsteady. Sandor would cast a look at you whenever someone mentioned to you about Joffrey’s and your siblings' golden locks as they grew. You gave them a smile and answered. “They have been blessed with the Lannister’s golden hair.”

He knew you weren’t an idiot, he ignored when people said you were and sometimes when in a bad mood he slayed them whenever they expressed their opinions about it to him loudly. All beauty but nothing in your head. He wanted to tell them how wrong they were. He had spent hours with you in the dusty library of the castle. Seen you excelled in your studies. The winning smile you gave them disappears the moment they leave your sight. 

“Something to say, my beloved Sandor?” The tips of Sandor’s ears grew hot by your affectionate words. You had a habit of calling him all sorts of names after both of you grew closer. You didn't want to admit it to Sandor but you like seeing him squirm after calling him those sweet names. 

“No, princess.” He croaked out when you gave a cheeky smile. He immediately looked down at the ground. 

“Do you think father will ever notice?” You ask Sandor and he looks back at you. You were being serious. 

Sandor shook his head, no. “Maybe if he stops drinking and catches a break from his whores, I reckon he might see it. Unfortunately I can’t say anything. As much as father loves me more, I fear I will be punished if I say it.” 

Sandor was right you weren’t the dumb princess everyone seems to think. As the time passed, Joffrey and the rest of your siblings grew; it's been nearly 16 years. You had finally managed to get out of a marriage proposal that your father mentioned to you. Sandor was waiting outside as he heard your voice behind your father’s chambers door. He couldn’t help but grin when he heard the hearty laughter from the King. 

“Thank you, father. I knew you would be able to understand. That’s why you are the most wonderful King to ever live.” Sandor heard you say before walking out. 

Sandor watched as you shut the door behind you and pointed at the staircase nearby. Sandor looked around his surroundings, making sure no one was in sight. He walked a few steps down and turned to see you walking towards him. He lets out a huff when you jump on him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Seven hells.” Sandor cursed when kissed his cheek, attacking him with kisses. Sandor moved to capture your lips with his. 

“I take it. It went well.” Sandor said, pulling you close to him. You nodded with a grin. 

“Father can be very kind when he’s drunk out of his mind.” You told him as he put you down on the steps. Both of you froze at the sound of Joffrey’s voice, he was coming up the steps. Sandor immediately took a few steps away from you. 

“Oh look, it’s my dear sister.” 

“Hello, my dear brother.” You greeted Joffrey in the same sarcastic tone. The blonde stood a few steps down from you with Ser Meryn Trant behind him. 

“Dog.” Joffrey said.  “My-.” 

“You mean Sandor.” You cut Sandor off. Your harsh tone wiped the smirk off Joffrey's face. You crossed your arms over your chest. This was an ongoing thing. Joffrey would call Sandor a dog to get a rise out of you. 

“His name is Sandor. Have you forgotten?” Joffrey can’t help but smile wickedly at you. It irritated you, Joffrey grew to be more ill and filled with a horrible attitude. He was a spoiled child, that’s all you had to say about your brother. His words and remarks were vile and you wouldn’t stand for it especially when it came to Sandor or to your servants. 

“He’s a dog, my dear sister. There’s no changing that. He is The Hound.” 

“You’re a dog as well. You even act like one and yet people still call you prince.” You answered back. 

“You little-.” Meryn Trant stopped mid sentence when he saw Sandor walking down the steps to get next to you. 

“Finish what you were saying. I fucking dare you.” Sandor threatens Meryn Trant and gives him a cold stare down. Sandor’s reputation grew as the years passed. Killer, monster, perhaps even worse than his brother, the names and the fear of fighting against him grew. They all knew no one is safe when he’s protecting you. 

“You are so kind to the people below us.” Joffrey said, making your eyes roll. You wished for the day when Joffrey realized that he is a bastard. It was called a rumor but you knew the truth. Cersei has always been a bit sloppy when she was drunk. You had seen your mother and your uncle, Jamie getting cozy. 

“I will be so heartbroken when you finally leave King’s Landing and join those filthy people from Drone.” You smile at your brother. Plans have been changed. 

“I’m surprised that you know about my marriage proposal with Drone.” You said knowing him and your mother had conspired this marriage proposal. 

“Let me be the one to deliver this good news to you, dear brother.” Joffrey frowned as you approached him closer. 

“There is no need to be heartbroken, for I am staying. There is no proposal.” Joffrey's blonde brows rose up and his shocked expression turned into an angry one. 

“It must be hard not being father’s favorite.”  You whispered. 

This dispute, the rivalry between you and brother began when he was able to see how Robert favored you more. He reached out for Robert but Robert was busy being King or being drunk. Joffrey was always envious of you, you had your father wrapped around your finger along with the entire realm while you got cheered and praised. He got concerned looks from the people of King's Landing. 

“Shall we go, Sandor? Agatha said she was preparing chicken for prandium.” You looked over at Sandor who nodded at you. 

“Yes, princess.” Passing by Joffrey, you ignored the look from Mery Trant. Sandor bowed his head to Joffrey and followed you. You can hear Sandor’s heavy footsteps behind you as you continue to hold your front. You wouldn’t let Joffrey know that his little plan to get rid of you didn’t work. Thanks to Lord Baelish and Lord Varys who gave you a heads up about it again, this wasn’t the first time. Joffrey wanted to get rid of you again and now he had even gotten your mother to play along. 

Night came and you welcomed the warmth Sandor provided you. Even though the weather of King’s Landing was already warm you still preferred the heat from Sandor’s body. 

“I heard something.” Sandor spoke after a moment of silence. You played with the soft hair on his chest while you laid your head on his arm, his arms tightening around you. 

“Speak, Sandor.” You softly said, growing anxious every passing second. 

“The servants overheard Joffrey asking Cersei about taking me as his own guard.” You raised your head off his arm and looked down at him. 

“What?” 

“He wants me as his guard.” Sandor answered you. You shook your head. 

“That little cunt.” You whispered under your breath and you realized Sandor wasn’t even looking at you. He kept staring up at the ceiling of your chambers. His eyes had become dull and his face was emotionless. Pushing the sheets off your body, you moved to sit in his lap. Paying no attention to the soreness between your legs, you felt him hold on to your legs as you cupped his face with both hands. 

“He won’t take you away from me.” Sandor let out a strain chuckle.

He knew what he had with you won’t last. He had made a promise to himself when he first met you. He wouldn't fall in love with you but he broke it. He was utterly in love with you after being your guard for many years. He had convinced himself in the beginning of your relationship that you guys can be together but reality was hitting him straight in the face, you were a princess and he was just a second born son. You would be married to someone else, someone better. You would leave him. 

“I swear it.”  

“Might be for the best if I do switch. It will be for the best.” Sandor said, making you frown. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to watch you marry some lord or a king and give him kids.” Sandor traced the skin of your legs as he spoke. 

“Your father won’t decline the next marriage proposal. He did it for the last two but not the third one. He won’t, I know it. The realm wants to see you married and have children. If I keep guarding you and you get married, I’ll kill your husband.” Sandor said sincerely. You dropped your hands from his face and brought it down to his chest. 

“Do you love me?” You asked. 

Sandor’s jaw clenched and his eyes grew hard. “Yes or no?” 

“You know I do. I have killed for you.” Sandor responded with no remorse. He had spilled blood for you and had lost count on how many people he killed to protect you and your honor.  

“If you love me then never say those words again. Promise me?! Promise me that you won’t say that it’s best.”

Sandor said your name softly but you yelled at him. “Swear it to me! Please.” 

Sandor nodded, raising his hand up to cup your cheek when he saw you on the verge of tears. He couldn’t bear seeing you cry. You grabbed on to his wrist, kissing his palm. 

“I promise. I swear it.” He told you. You leaned down to kiss him. Enjoying the tender moment with him, there were a few times when Sandor showed his soft side with you. It was mostly in bed, both of you would be wrapped around each other and sometimes the aftermath of many orgasms. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He told you and you began to kiss him harder moving your hips, your cunt humping against his cock. Whining loudly when you felt him pull you to his chest and wrap an arm around you. His free hand touches your bare ass. Sandor takes a deep breath as he feels how warm and wet you are. 

“I won't let Joffrey take you away from me. I have a plan.” 

Sandor’s hand freezes on your ass and looks down at you. 

“A plan?” You nodded as you pressed a kiss on his chest. 

“Yes. You’re mine, Sandor. No one is going to take you away from me.” Your words were like a shot of adrenaline to him. He gripped your ass harder, he wanted to believe you.

He didn't want to ruin this moment with a fight. He wanted to remember this night with you incase this would be the last night he gets to spent with you. Naked and curled up together. He wanted to enjoy it, so he moved to his side, taking you with him. Facing each other now, Sandor drapes your leg over his waist, your right arm under his head while his arm goes under you. In a thirst position, he can hold you close to him. You bump his nose softly and kiss his scared cheek.  He gripped your waist pulling you closer to him.

You shut your eyes and moan when his thick fingers touch your slit. Gather the reminiscence of your cum and his dripping from your hole and rub it on along the swollen lips of your cunt. The tip of his fingers gliding over your clit making you cry out, your cunt was sensitive from earlier. Your toes curled up and legs tensed up when you felt his finger inside of you. 

“Fuck.” He groans as he holds you close to him. Moaning his name as you felt him finger you for a moment. He shifted and moved your legs higher so he had room. 

“Sandor.” You cry out his name as he slips inside of you. You held on to his arms as he gripped your waist while pumping into you. 

His face hidden between your neck and shoulder, you can feel his hand on your back, nails digging into your skin. You held on for dear life as you heard him growl against your skin. 

“I’ll kill him, Y/n.” He moans to you as he fucks you, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt. His thrust was growing faster and harsher. The thought of you married with some prince made him angry. Even if people didn't know, you were his and he would keep it that way.

“You hear me?” He said with a moan. He moves his face towards you. You nod at him letting out a pitched whine when he hits that sweet spot. 

“You belong with me. You’re mine.” You kissed him trying to mask your moans but nothing in the world would mask the squelching sound of your pussy being fucked. 

Sandor held on to you as he moved his hips back and forward. He feels his balls tighten when he feels you cum on him, you’re trembling, skin slick with sweat. Sandor is grunting as he manhandles you. Your hands are on him, touching him, you can feel the muscles and his scars from his battles on his back and his arms. 

Sandor cries your name and you shut your eyes as he presses his hips against you, slamming his cock deep inside of you. His hand on your hips goes down your ass, cups your cheek. He squeezes it as he cums deep inside of you. You whimper feeling stuff, your pussy keeps clenching and unclenching around him. He shifts his hips and you moan at the feeling of your clit being ticked by his pubic hair.

You feel his lips on your cheek, pressing soft kisses as he huffs out of breath. 

“Sandor.” You whispered as you nuzzled against his face. You didn’t mind the feeling of the scars against your face, you kept close to him enjoying the aftermath of your orgasm. 

You didn’t want this to end, you wouldn’t allow it. Sandor was yours first, Sandor belongs to you just as much you belong to him. You weren’t going to give him up without a fight. 

Morning came and you were woken by your ladies in waiting. The flock of ladies knocked and waited for you outside to respond. You rose up, finding yourself alone. You wrapped yourself in a blanket and invited them inside. One by one they walked inside, picking up the sheets from the floor, one went to your closet to get your clothes for the day and one opened the doors to the balcony. 

“Here, my princess.” The eldest came by you after you covered yourself with your robe. You thanked her for the tea and waited patiently while one warmed your bath water.

One of the ladies was brushing your hair after your bath. They stopped when there was a knock on the door, opening the door. Sandor came walking in, he had a concerning look on his face. 

“Good morrow, princess. The king demands your presence in his chambers at once.” 

You walked to your father’s chambers with Sandor behind you. He sensed how nervous you were. Before going around the hall, you felt Sandor grab your arm. He gently pulled you back. You were pushed softly against the wall. Sandor stood in front of you, towers over you as he looked down at you. 

“Worried?” You whispered to him. You feel one of his hands cup your face. 

Sandor doesn’t reply, he simply presses his lips against yours. “Go on.” He tells you and steps away from you. 

Sandor has a habit of never expressing his feelings out loud. Sandor followed you quietly. He wasn’t worried at all, he was scared and he hasn’t felt this way since he was a child when Gregor disfigured him. 

You walked down the hall and came to a halt when you saw Ser Meryn Trant standing outside of your father’s chamber. It meant that Joffrey was inside. You felt bile rise up. Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath to calm your nervousness. 

Meryn Trant saw you and opened your father’s chamber door for you. You looked over your shoulder and gave Sandor a look of nervousness. You took one last look of his brown eyes. It calms you for a moment and you’re able to walk inside your father’s chamber. You noticed Joffrey sitting down along with your mother while your father sat behind his desk. The door shut behind you as you walked towards your father. 

“Mother. Brother.” You greeted them and walked next to your father. You leaned down to kiss one of his pudgy cheeks. Robert gave you a smile and greeted you. You can smell the wine coming off your father.

“Sit, we have been waiting. Joffrey and your mother wish to discuss something with us.” 

You sat on the empty seat next to your mother. “Joffrey has told me that he would like Sandor as his personal guard.” Your mother said. 

So this was about Sandor. “What's wrong with Ser Meryn Trant?” You asked Joffrey. 

Joffrey wasn't expecting for you to say something. He thought you would obey instantly. You stare at Joffrey, you weren't going to let Sandor slip away from you. You were going to fight for him. 

Joffrey looked over at his father who was also staring at him. “Well, since Y/n is going off in Dorne. I want Sandor.” 

“I'm not going to Dorne. I told you.” Joffrey clenched his jaw. 

“You had refused your last marriage proposal. Father, are you going to accept this?” Joffrey asked Robert. 

“She isn't going to Dorne.” Robert said, making Cersei sit up. “Why not?” She asked him. 

“You dare to question me, woman.” Robert eyed Cersei. 

“Our daughter has not been wed, people will talk.” 

“You think I care what people say about her. She is my daughter. My word is law and final. She won't be shipped to Dorne.” 

You dislike how sometimes your father would speak to your mother. Robert was a down right misogynist but when it came to you he was different. You knew it had to do with Lyanna Stark, everyone told you how there was a resemblance between you and her. It was confirmed when Ned Stark and his family came to King's Landing to celebrate your name day. Ned couldn't take his eyes off of you and had even stuttered his sister's name after drinking with your father. 

You felt bad for Ned after so many years the death of his sister still had a hold over him just like Robert. He had begged forgiveness to you the next day. “Nonsense. No need to forgive, Lord Stark.” 

“He’s a good man.” Sandor told you after Ned left. You had finished a walk with Ned in the garden after you told him if it would be alright to share some stories about Lyanna. He gave you a smile and accepted. You learned a lot about her and intend to use this information. 

“He is.” You replied to him. 

“It will get him killed one of these days.” Sandor’s words made you sad. You didn't want to see the Lord of Winterfell dead. Unlike Joffrey and your mother, you enjoy their presence and have grown fond of his wife, Catelyn. 

“Our daughter should have been married and had babies by now. We can use her as an advantage, a leverage.” Cersei stood up from her seat and walked to the corner of the room where the cart of wines and cups were at. 

“I believe it has to be that atrocious dog always behind her. His face scares off any suitors. She will be married soon and doesn’t need him anymore.” 

“He protects me, mother.” You said folding your hands on your lap. Cersei looked over her shoulder at you. You looked over at your father because at the end of the day, he has the last day. 

“Father, remember the riot. Those men would have killed me. Sandor was there and killed them all. He killed those men.” Robert nodded remembering all too well about that horrible riot that broke out.  

You stood up from your seat and walked towards the desk. You kneel down near your father ignoring the tsk sound from Joffrey. You decided if Joffrey and your mother wanted to play dirty. So will you. 

“I do not wish the same fate as the lovely Lyanna Stark. May she be at peace.” Your father’s eyes shifted at the mention of Lyanna.

“I know. I have refused two marriage proposals now but I must tell you the truth, Sandor didn’t trust them. He had seen him, heard them speak ill behind my back.” You knew the words you were about to say will be a low blow to your mother and it will create a shift between you two but you had to do it. You didn’t want Joffrey to have Sandor. Sandor Clegane is yours. 

“You might think this is ridiculous, father.” You grabbed your father’s hand. 

“I want to be loved. The type of love you and Lyanna shared. Ned told me stories about your love with her and it warmed my heart. I crave for that love you both shared.” You flinched at the sound of Cersei throwing her cup of wine to the ground and walked out of the room. No one said anything for a moment. You just watched as the red wine from Drone stained the carpeted rug. This was your chance, your moment to seal it. Joffrey won’t take Sandor away from you. 

Sandor stood straight up when he saw the queen running out of the room. The door was opened and he looked ahead. He saw you kneeling by your father, looking up at him. 

“Don't take Sandor away from me. Don't let me have the same fate as the woman you loved.” 

Robert smiled down at you and cupped your face. “No need to worry. Clegane will stay by your side.” 

Robert looks towards Joffrey. “Stay with Ser Mery Trant. If you wish for a more depraved guard. Perhaps we can ask The Mountain to fill in.” Joffrey quickly shook his head. He sent a glare at you before standing up and walking out of the room. Sandor moved away from the door when he saw Joffrey with a pout on his face. Ser Mery Trant followed the prince. 

Sandor looked back at the doorway. Robert had helped you get up on your feet and gave you a hug. Sandor gave you a small smile when he saw you staring back at him with your own smile as you hugged your father. It worked. 

Sandor knew he would have to beg forgiveness for not believing in you. Your plan worked. Shame on him for ever doubting you, Princess Y/n Baratheon, the realm's delight. 

Chapter 2 ->

#sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane fanfic #games of thrones x reader #games of thrones fanfiction #rorymccann #sandor clegane smut #sandor the hound clegane #prince joffrey #robert baratheon #reader baratheon

[ligawolfcosplayandarts]

I can't unsee this now.

Whoever did this art is definitely big Cannibal Corpse fan.

#corpsegrinder #ser Gregor Clegane #Gregor Clegane #Cannibal Corpse #metal meets asoiaf #the mountain asoiaf #asoiaf #i can't unsee it

[melrosing]

JAIME IN THE RIVERLANDS II: Bluffs, Bargaining and Baby Trebuchets - Why Jaime Can’t Win at Riverrun

[lol sorry i've not updated this since Dec 2022 but i feel kind of compelled to finish it and this part was actually mostly done in back in Jan last year. I just got distracted. anyway part one here]

Following ASOS where Jaime’s character development came thick and fast, Jaime of AFFC is stalling by comparison, looking for an outlet and lacking one. He hopes to improve the Kingsguard as its new Commander but it’s in a poor state, saddled with men like Boros Blount and Osmund Kettleblack who are sworn to serve it for life. Meanwhile, his every move is undermined by Cersei’s erratic rule as regent, or the strange counsel she has built around her. He is beside his son, but Tommen can’t know it, and his daily duties involve tedium more often than not. Jaime’s scope has been drastically reduced: there are no bears, there is only Pycelle, and meanwhile his relationship with Cersei is undergoing seismic change that leaves him emotionally adrift. 

Jaime is also growing increasingly conscious of the risk that Tywin’s death poses to his family: joining the funeral procession for his father’s return to the Rock, ‘dead’ rings in his ears as he attempts reconciliation between Kevan and Cersei (JAIME II, AFFC) - Tywin is truly gone, and nothing stands in his place. Indeed, whilst we see throughout ASOS and AFFC that Tywin had the respect of his siblings, Jaime and Cersei are viewed by Genna and Kevan as little more than squabbling children far out of their depth. Kevan even regards the twins as a direct threat to he and his family’s security and goes so far to say as much, rending the family deeper. Worse still, Jaime is unsure whether or not Cersei does represent a true threat to their uncle, leaving him to play the game half blind:

Ser Kevan was a Lannister of Casterly Rock. He could not believe that she would ever do him harm, but… I was wrong about Tyrion, why not about Cersei? When sons were killing fathers, what was there to stop a niece from ordering an uncle slain? [JAIME II, AFFC]

It’s clear at this point to both Jaime and the reader that House Lannister is beginning to cannibalise itself, with each link representing a threat to the other: even Genna and Kevan compete for safer seats for their families, with Kevan leaving the poisoned chalice of Riverrun for his sister and her children. Meanwhile, Cersei’s growing paranoia and ineptitude as queen is setting off alarm bells: “The crows will feast upon us all if you go on this way, sweet sister” (JAIME II, AFFC). House Lannister’s vulnerability is hugely apparent, and now, far from Tywin’s vision of a single unanimous collective, each branch of the family pulls in its own direction. So we see that part of Jaime’s role at this point in the story is to somehow reunite his family with the singular object of their security: the trouble is that the security of House Lannister runs directly counter to the security of all others.

It is here that Cersei sends Jaime into the Riverlands against his will, to finish their father’s work in quashing House Stark and House Tully. Jaime goes reluctantly, knowing the Riverlands have already been ravaged by his father’s men: “scarce a field remained unburnt, a town unsacked, a maiden undespoiled.” Cersei’s request that he finish the work of men like Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch “[leaves] a bitter taste in his mouth” (JAIME III, AFFC). Jaime is also mindful of his oaths to Catelyn Stark, i.e. that he will not take arms against Stark or Tully, and his own personal ambitions for betterment. But the dregs of the war aren’t going anywhere, and so begins Jaime’s attempt to balance his own personal ambitions with what his family needs to solidify their rule.

RETURNING TO THE RIVERLANDS

Jaime initially travels with little sense of direction. He hovers at Darry to see Lancel and settle the matter of Cersei’s infidelity. He returns to Harrenhal to restore order, and makes some attempts at a transformation into ‘Goldenhand the Just’: rescuing Pia, executing her rapist, punishing outlaws (be they of opposing camps or otherwise) and rehabilitating Ser Ilyn Payne. But as many have observed, these are small gestures - perhaps even misguided, in the case of the outlaws: Brienne’s chapters feature a sorrowful monologue on the plight of ‘broken men’, who have long suffered at the mercy of their high lords. This is Jaime attempting to do good within the scope he’s been afforded, but he is under no illusions that it is enough to transform his reputation, and it is certainly not enough to atone for his sins: 

"Wear [the golden hand], Jaime," urged Ser Kennos of Kayce. "Wave at the smallfolk and give them a tale to tell their children." "I think not." Jaime would not show the crowds a golden lie. Let them see the stump. Let them see the cripple. [JAIME III, AFFC]

“Men will name you Goldenhand from his day forth,” the armorer had assured him the first time he fitted it onto Jaime’s wrist. He was wrong. I shall be the Kingslayer till I die. [JAIME III, AFFC]

“He was not wrong," Ser Bonifer allowed, "but some sins are blacker than others, and fouler in the nostrils of the Seven." And you have no more nose than my little brother, or my own sins would have you choking on that pear. [JAIME III, AFFC]

After loitering long enough, Jaime finally continues his journey to Riverrun, where he finds the entire place at a standstill. The Freys have ruined negotiations by belying the bluff behind their threats, and now Riverrun will not fall without armed conflict. Jaime does not want armed conflict owing to the oath he swore to Catelyn that he would not take up arms against House Tully, but the danger to his house grows more pronounced: Lannisters and Freys can be found hanging in the woods, and Brynden Tully obstinately wants no peace with them. The contrast between the honourable Tullys and the impotent Freys is immediately made starkly apparent, and any reader would feel that Jaime is on the wrong side of this conflict. Yet even despite Jaime’s own obvious disregard for the Freys, we get to see the House Lannister he’s grown up with, and hopes to protect: the jovial Daven, the fond Genna, even the tragic Lancel. There is genuine affection amongst the extended tree of Lannisters, not easily dismissed for the sake of oaths.

Yet even so, Genna quickly notes Jaime is not the man to protect them: “Who will protect us now? [...] Tyrion is Tywin’s son, not you.” I’d argue that it is at this juncture, more than any other, that Jaime resolves to begin his performance as Tywin’s ‘true’ heir: he has entered this conflict lacking direction, and Genna has now provided him one that he has willfully ignored till now: House Lannister needs someone to protect them, and if not him, then who?

So begins the delicate balancing act between Jaime’s own ideals and oaths to Catelyn, alongside the dwindling security of House Lannister. 

ALLIES & ENEMIES

We frequently see Jaime struggle with the fact that he vastly prefers his enemies to his allies, even as the reader is encouraged to do the same. Jaime likes Jeyne Westerling, with her earnest devotion to Robb. He has admired Brynden Tully since he was a boy, and desperately hopes to win the man over himself (to no avail). He clearly prefers Tytos Blackwood to Jonos Bracken, despite (if not because of) Blackwood’s staunch support for House Tully, versus Bracken’s more malleable loyalties. Yet Jaime himself is encumbered by Freys of dubious loyalty and still more dubious character (if they are not altogether ineffectual), as well as lickspittles and violent rogues, such as the remainder of Gregor’s party he finds at Harrenhal. We see Jaime attempting to work with what he’s been given, but the disdain he feels towards his allies is always palpable - whilst his preference for his more honourable enemies is a recurring weakness.

Jaime’s ADWD chapter is an interesting exploration of both the strengths of Jaime’s character, and the ways in which he is ill-suited to his role in this conflict. He is instantly able to build some rapport with Tytos Blackwood, agreeing to privately manage humiliating dealings, and making allowances for the man where he can. He even goes so far as to allow Blackwood to choose his own hostage - Jonos Bracken advises Jaime that taking Tytos’ treasured daughter would give House Lannister the strongest hold over the family, but when Tytos emotionally protests, he allows the man to instead suggest a son he’s less fond of, and who would even enjoy the trip to the capital. The threat inherent in this exchange is so forgotten that when Hoster Blackwood emerges as though ready for summer camp, Jaime realises he has to remind the Blackwoods of who exactly they’re dealing with, else appear weak to a supporter who might easily turn: 

"I am not your friend and I am not your brother." That cleaned the grin off the boy's face. Jaime turned to Lord Tytos. "My lord, let there be no misunderstanding here. Lord Beric Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr, Sandor Clegane, Brynden Tully, this woman Stoneheart … all these are outlaws and rebels, enemies to the king and all his leal subjects. If I should learn that you or yours are hiding them, protecting them, or assisting them in any way, I will not hesitate to send you your son's head. I hope you understand that. Understand this as well: I am not Ryman Frey." [JAIME I, ADWD]

Here, Jaime directly counterposes himself with Ryman Frey: the man who almost lost Riverrun owing to his ineffectual bluffing. The reason being that Jaime and Ryman are dealing in the same currency: so far, Jaime has offered only threats that remain untested by his enemies, and Hos the hostage is only another of them. His role as Tywin’s heir is an elaborate performance, but Tywin’s reputation was earned through deed - Jaime so far relies only the memory of that. The second any one enemy does dare to test his resolve, the whole business could come crashing down - because this is a character who has yet to prove his resolve in the matter to either his enemies or himself, and is desperately avoiding doing so.

We see his lack of conviction again in subsequent conversations with his new hostage. Hoster reminds Jaime of his younger brother Tyrion, building his warmth towards the boy, and soon enough Jaime is asking him questions about the surrounding landscape and its history. At the end of the chapter, Jaime even shares a skin of wine with Hoster and his young squires (mostly hostages themselves) about a campfire, failing to enforce an emotional distance. The only instance where Jaime resumes his performance before Hoster is one where the pretence is palpable:

"My father had a saying too. Never wound a foe when you can kill him. Dead men don't claim vengeance." "Their sons do," said Hoster, apologetically. "Not if you kill the sons as well. Ask the Casterlys about that if you doubt me. Ask Lord and Lady Tarbeck, or the Reynes of Castamere. Ask the Prince of Dragonstone." For an instant, the deep red clouds that crowned the western hills reminded him of Rhaegar's children, all wrapped up in crimson cloaks. "Is that why you killed all the Starks?" "Not all," said Jaime. "Lord Eddard's daughters live. One has just been wed. The other …" Brienne, where are you? Have you found her? "… if the gods are good, she'll forget she was a Stark. She'll wed some burly blacksmith or fat-faced innkeep, fill his house with children, and never need to fear that some knight might come along to smash their heads against a wall." [JAIME I, ADWD]

Here, Hoster inadvertently tests Jaime’s resolve in the Lannister cause, and Jaime parrots obligingly, invoking his father’s darkest deeds as a reminder of what House Lannister is capable of. As Tywin’s heir, Jaime, is aware that he owes his audience a performance.

Yet what is coming out of Jaime’s mouth runs laughably counter to his own feelings and actions. He does not agree with his father’s methodry: the memory of Rhaenys’ and Aegon’s bloody bodies is clearly traumatic, and something Jaime has repeatedly wished he had prevented. And he has of course sent Brienne to rescue Sansa; in doing so, he may well have sown the seeds of the next Stark uprising himself, a consequence that could directly threaten his own family. This goes to prove how complex and contradictory Jaime’s objectives have become. He is attempting to preserve the security of both the Starks and the Lannisters, whilst struggling to avoid handing either side victory over the other. 

Jaime cannot make that struggle apparent to his audience, however, and so he says the words for Hoster: it is important Hoster believes them - that everyone does - yet once again, words are all Jaime has offered.

HALF MEASURES

Jaime’s sole ADWD chapter offers the best framework to unpack one of the most discussed episodes of Jaime’s Riverlands arc, and that is: Jaime’s threat to fling a baby over a castle wall.

"You've seen our numbers, Edmure. You've seen the ladders, the towers, the trebuchets, the rams. If I speak the command, my coz will bridge your moat and break your gate. Hundreds will die, most of them your own. Your former bannermen will make up the first wave of attackers, so you'll start your day by killing the fathers and brothers of men who died for you at the Twins. The second wave will be Freys, I have no lack of those. My westermen will follow when your archers are short of arrows and your knights so weary they can hardly lift their blades. When the castle falls, all those inside will be put to the sword. Your herds will be butchered, your godswood will be felled, your keeps and towers will burn. I'll pull your walls down, and divert the Tumblestone over the ruins. By the time I'm done no man will ever know that a castle once stood here." Jaime got to his feet. "Your wife may whelp before that. You'll want your child, I expect. I'll send him to you when he's born. With a trebuchet." [JAIME VI, AFFC]

As already mentioned, bluffs have been Jaime’s sole currency against the Tullys so far. The trouble is that he has entered an arena where bluffs have already been used to ill effect: the Freys have practically numbed Brynden Tully and his garrison to Edmure’s death, by threatening to do kill the man daily and failing follow through: this has led Brynden to frame his retaliation under the supposition that his nephew is as good as dead already. The best thing Jaime could do to assert his status over the Freys and dominance over the Tullys is demonstrate that he is a man of action, and will kill Edmure - but the action required is precisely that which he is not willing to take.

So Jaime enters this conflict with a bluff of his own, this time pointed at both the Freys and Edmure, as it’s necessary for both parties to believe he means what he says. Having covertly directed Ser Ilyn Payne to bluff, Jaime fools even the reader for a moment into believing that he meant to have Edmure’s head off:

The ferry had just started across with Walder Rivers and Edwyn Frey when Jaime and his men arrived at the river. As they awaited its return, Jaime told them what he wanted. Ser Ilyn spat into the river. [...] The sight of Ser Ilyn widened [Edmure’s] eyes. "Better a sword than a rope. Do it, Payne." "Ser Ilyn," said Jaime. "You heard Lord Tully. Do it." [...] "No! Stop. NO!" Edwyn Frey came panting into view. [JAIME VI, AFFC]

It’s here apparent that Ilyn Payne has been instructed to sever the rope suspending Edmure, making it seem to Edmure and onlookers that he means for Ilyn to behead the man. Jaime knows that Edwyn Frey will intervene before this can take place, but Edmure, who already bought into Jaime’s Kingslayer persona, has now had it reified by Jaime’s apparent resolve to behead him there and then. This lays the foundations for Jaime’s subsequent negotiations with Edmure: whilst treating with Brynden Tully, a man with nothing to lose, was a worthless pursuit… convincing Edmure, with everything to lose, holds more promise, and Jaime has now primed him to accept the carrot and fear the invisible stick.

Many readers do not regard Jaime’s villainous monologue to Edmure as any kind of bluff, but rather a promise that demonstrates that even if he isn’t Tywin’s ‘true’ heir, he’s capable of the same cruelties. However, we’ve now established that bluffs have become the currency at Riverrun, and are an especially vital currency to Jaime, a man who is determined to take no decisive action for the sake of his oath. His sole objective is to get Edmure to surrender peacefully, and violent words are his oddly pacifist method. 

It is also worth observing the improvised nature of the threat. Jaime mentions trebuchets specifically because they are trademark of Tywin’s from his feuds with the Reynes and the Tarbecks - as is drowning castles so that no-one would know they ever stood. The whole threat is heavy on Tywinian rhetoric, promising violent extremes that are atypical of Jaime’s own approach in war - but of course, they go the extra mile in pushing Edmure over the edge. Edmure knows what the Lannisters are capable of, and that is enough to frighten him into acquiescence before he begins to wonder what Jaime himself is capable of. 

Following Edmure’s surrender, Jaime self-consciously notes to himself his cynical invocation of Tywin’s trademarks, humorlessly marvelling at what came out of his mouth:

‘With a trebuchet,’ Jaime thought. If his aunt had been there, would she still say Tyrion was Tywin’s son? [JAIME VI, AFFC]

And of course, we see again here what has been on Jaime’s mind the whole time. Genna has told him she doesn’t believe he can protect their family, because he is no second coming of Tywin Lannister. Jaime is desperate to prove otherwise, whilst simultaneously desperate not to - and so, in thinking to himself that he has proved Genna wrong, Jaime has ironically proved her right: he is not willing to take decisive action, offering only words to suggest he could. 

Finally, there is a telling passage that precedes Jaime’s threat, suggesting the extent to which just saying the words pains Jaime:

Must you make me say the words? Pia was standing by the flap of the tent with her arms full of clothes. His squires were listening as well, and the singer. Let them hear, Jaime thought. Let the world hear. It makes no matter. He forced himself to smile. [JAIME VI, AFFC]

Jaime has built rapport with Pia and his squires over the course of AFFC - he gets to know them as people, they get to know him, and Jaime is a different person for them than he has been in the minds of those back at King’s Landing - he is a saviour to Pia, and a mentor for his squires. They are at the inception of the man Jaime wants to become for the rest of Westeros - someone honourable, and worthy of their respect. 

However, Tywin Lannister was not such a man - he was a man to be feared, and to sustain the Lannister regime, his heir must be feared as well. Jaime asks himself, ‘Must [Edmure] make me say the words?’, belying the fact that he had hoped to leave the threat implicit, offering Edmure a hand to his feet without having to show him the back of it. He is conscious of Pia and his squires listening, and how these words will impact their opinion of him; how the words will get out of the tent, and impact everyone’s opinion of him. 

But Jaime resolves: “Let them hear. Let the world hear. It makes no matter.” It’s apparent that it does matter to Jaime; he does not want to be a man feared and despised. Nonetheless, there is a futility in these lines. He lost the respect of Westeros long ago, and will not regain it in acting as Tywin’s heir. ‘Goldenhand the Just’ is a fantasy, and revealing his true motives to the world would be dangerous. He has to maintain his performance as Tywin’s heir for the sake of his family, and if that’s all the world will ever know of him… here, Jaime is telling himself to suck it up. “He forced himself to smile.”

The threat serves its purpose in the short-term, however. As much as Edmure hates Jaime for the words, it’s likely he requires them before he can sign Riverrun away to the Lannisters. Edmure needs to know the price of the carrot, cannot take it without asking. The price tells Edmure he’s making the right decision for everyone, albeit a bitter, humiliating one that reeks of injustice. Yet to refuse the carrot would be to surrender his family and people to something worse than injustice: in short Edmure needs to believe he’s saving his family from something. Jaime gives him that. 

THE PEACE

Of course, the greatest trouble for the Lannisters is that Jaime’s measures will not maintain the peace in his absence. Jaime did not take up arms against the Tullys, and so Brynden has escaped. In all likelihood, Edmure and his pregnant wife will shortly do the same - they travel with Jeyne Westerling to Casterly Rock, a character GRRM has told us will feature in TWOW’s prologue. It seems a foregone conclusion that that prologue will see an interruption to the hostages’ journey to the Rock, perhaps one orchestrated by Brynden Tully. 

It hardly helps that Jaime has even released a number of Tully men after having them swear an oath after the fashion of his own to Cat: 

Lady Genna suggested that a few of the men might be put to the question. He refused. "I gave Edmure my word that if he yielded, the garrison could leave unharmed." "That was chivalrous of you," his aunt said, "but it's strength that's needed here, not chivalry." [...] The Tully garrison departed the next morning, stripped of all their arms and armour. Each man was allowed three days' food and the clothing on his back, after he swore a solemn oath never to take up arms against Lord Emmon or House Lannister. "If you're fortunate, one man in ten may keep that vow," Lady Genna said. [JAIME VII, AFFC]

As we see, Genna does not regard Jaime’s measures as stringent enough for their ends, and she may well be right - the Lannisters’ pit of violence has grown too deep for the family to sustain themselves through pacifism now. But ultimately, these chapters serve to show that Jaime is not willing to consider the alternative: whatever method his family requires to survive, he is demonstrably not the character to implement it.

Needless to say, it seems pointless to argue that there aren’t clear ‘good guys’ and ‘bad guys’ in the Riverlands conflict - because even if there were, Jaime’s desire to protect his family is a sympathetic one. His attempts to do this solely through rhetoric are understandable, even laudable. And the fact that he has ultimately failed has a level of tragedy to it: we root for the Tullys and their return to Riverrun, and the downfall of the Lannister regime, but there is still a human cost associated. 

The coming of Red Wedding 2.0 is another foregone conclusion, but from the groundwork laid in AFFC and ADWD, it seems clear that GRRM will not intend it as a triumphant event: it was gruesome and cruel the first time, with many innocent lives lost in the crossfire - it can only be so different the second. 

As readers, we want Jaime to move beyond the Lannister cause to higher ideals, and in ADWD he has. But GRRM does not intend that this should be an easy path to take. Jaime’s loved ones remain embroiled in this conflict, and fighting for or favouring the other side has implications for all of them. Abandoning the Lannister cause is necessarily difficult, and there will be consequences for doing so.

NEXT PART: A Reckoning in the Riverlands!!! this won't be quick but i hope it won't be a fucking year

#jaime lannister #asoiaf

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Sandor Clegane x reader

(Not proof read)

CHAPTER 1.

Read chapter 2 here

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for story- Eventual smut, 18+ only, Death, mention of death, mention of menstrual cycle, abuse, Joffrey (yes hes a warning), cussing, adult languages and themes forced marragie.

Cw for this chaper- Cursing, 18+ themes and langues, mentions of pregnancy, joffrey (yes hes a warning we all know why), abuse, Mention of child abuse (aka sandors past), death, forced marriage.

Sitting next to Sansa you watch as the joust of the season plays out ranging from knights who know what they are doing to those who have no clue and think they were worthy but instead the only thing they were worthy of was death by jousting stick to the throat. 

Joffery sits beside her, the king next to his queen. Sansa twirls the rose between her fingers not feeling the pain of the thorns ever so often pricking her finger tips. 

"What do you think about my love? Who will win this joust? "Joffrey laughs. 

“I don't know which ever you see fit to do so.” she says blankly.

“I want..him to win.” he says and points to the smaller man with the chestnut stallion. 

“Such a beautiful horse my king, and what a prize rider you should be out there to show your win and power.” she says once again as if it has been scripted. 

“I should! HA but I'm here with you! Watching is far more entertaining!” he yells the last part and the crowd cheers. 

“Sansa.” you say taking her hand seeing her bleeding fingers. You gesture to a maid and she hurries bringing a cloth and wipes off the blood. 

“Take it from her, I will not have my bride with impurities.” Joffrey says. You take the rose for her, holding it in your hands. Sansa stands and walks off with the tournament. Leaving Joffrey to sip on his wine. Continuing on with the joust a shadow slightly casts over you as you turn your head seeing Ser Sandor Clegane. You give him a light smile but his glare holds steady causing you smile to drop and your eyes to look away and back at the joust. Once again the man is taken out by the other. 

You huff and walk over to your seat sitting back down. Cersi sits next to you placing her hand on your leg before leaning into you to speak. 

“You don't have to be nice to him, you know nothing good will come out of being kind to a killer.” she says as she notices your smile at the hound. You tense up under her touch as she continues. 

“The only thing nice will get you is the same fate he found himself. His face melting in the hot coals of the fire he was pushed into.” She says. 

“Ser Gregor clegane!! And Lord Dortain!” the announcer projects and they both come to the front. Lord Dortain, your brother who has been keeping an eye on you in king's landing to make sure you're alright. 

They take their positions as they are ready and begin. The first is a miss as neither released the joust. Next they go once more and your brother knocks Gregor clean off his horse you smile clapping your hands together along with everyone else. You brother rides to the front and smiles bowing before Joffrey who seems pissed. 

“YOU!!!” Gregor yells and swings his sword knocking your brother off his horse you gasp and stand but Cersei grabs your arm. Keeping you in place from running out. As Gregor attacks, your brother hound runs down and clashes swords protecting him. The fight between brothers begins but before it can be finished Joffrey yells out. 

“STOP IT YOU FUCKING IMBICELS!!” he huffs as sandor bows leaving gregor to huff and walk off madly. Leaving Joffrey to follow after him. 

———

You walk through the halls looking for sansa but a guard blocks your way. 

“Excuse me.” You say to try and move but they don't. 

“The king wants to see you…” one says your breath hitches as you suck in air before they turn and walk, only leading you to follow whatever demise you're to meet. 

Arrived at the great hall where the throne is placed. Walking in the entire court as well as other people stand at attention to joffrey sansa standing at his side. You walk down the aisle of people and to the end of the steps to see him sitting fuming. 

“You king. You wanted to see me?” you ask curstsing before you speak again. 

“You're brother made a fool of me…OF MY HOUSE.” he yells at you. 

“Your grace its a jousting tournament. I'm sure he had no intention of mockery.” you say he frowns and waves his hand as ser meryn hits you across the face causing you to fall to your knees you see Sansa about to run to you but she holds herself together. 

“Killing you would send your brother a message. A message so inflatable that you should learn to tell him no such reward will be given!!” he says holding out a sword towards you before standing up and taking one step down. 

“Ser merryn strip her, a fool loves to entertain and i'm sure her body’s view would be entertaining to all.” he huffs out ser merryn rips open the back of your dress. 

“NO!” You scream out holding the fabric to your body as he tries to tear it away from you eventually hitting you again and kicking you before continuing to tear the fabric. 

“WAIT- '' Joffrey says before you're fully exposed. Ser merryn steps back a bit. 

“I've thought of a better lesson to teach. A fool deserves the golden treatment for they make those among us laugh…so I shall have the biggest laugh of them all and make a joke…I'll have to send the message to your family of course...but dog is in need of a bitch and i think you fit the description perfectly.'' Joffrey chuckles.

“Hound. Are you going to let your future wife sit bare in front of King's landing?” he says chuckling once more before the hound sighs and walks down the stairs to you he raises his hand and you flinch but when you feel the warmth of his large cape surrounding you, you look up before moving your gaze back down. 

“Congratulations on the engagement.” jofferry laughs. 

“Here's a present.” he says as the door opens having two people carrying a silver platter with a dome on time as it gets closer you open your mouth to scream but nothing comes out besides the tears waterfalling from your eyes as you see Dortains head on it. 

“An early wedding gift!! A tribute if you will..a lesson, to you, to your family. Now of course nothing went to waste. Ha ha i sent his body to your family and fed his cock and ball to the dogs.” joffrey signs and sits back down. 

“You've got a wedding to plan for. Don't you.” he says looking at you. You look down feeling hurt and scared. Your brother is no longer without your family having to see what happened to him. Someone picks you up as you realize it's sandor. He holds you in his arms. 

“Get her out of my sight.” Joffrey scoffs. Sandor nods and turns walking out of the room, your ladies in waiting running after you both. 

#sandor clegane x reader #Sandor Clegane x you #Sandor #thehound #game of thrones x reader #Sandor Clegane x reader smut

[morallyinept]

A full character analysis on OBERYN MARTELL from the TV show GAME OF THRONES.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to learn more about the character. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

FULL CHARACTER STUDY:

Basic Details:

Full Name: Oberyn Nymeros Martell

Nickname(s): The Red Viper

Appears in: Game Of Thrones, 2014 (first appearance on screen in episode 1, season 4, seen at approx. 09:13)

Age (if known): Oberyn is stated to be around 42 when he died

Sexuality: Bisexual

Nationality: Dornish. According to author George R.R. Martin, Dorne is loosely inspired by Spain, particularly the south's Moorish heritage, which culturally sets it apart from the rest of the country and of Western Europe.

Family: Eight daughters (Obara Sand, Nymeria Sand, Tyene Sand, Sarella Sand, Elia Sand, Obella Sand, Dorea Sand & Loreza Sand). Younger brother of Doran Martell, younger brother of Elia Martell

Spouse/Partner: Ellaria Sand, paramour

Relationship Status: In a sexually open relationship with his paramour, Ellaria Sand

Current Living Status: Deceased, killed by The Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane

Languages Spoken: English, Dornish

Education: Oberyn studied poisons at the Citadel, earning six links of the Maester's chain, rendering him a specialist in his field and a master at poisons. He left when he got bored of studying.

Occupation:

Job Role/Title: Prince of Dorne

Special Skill(s): Fighting, poisons, bedding many lovers

Notable Colleague(s): Ellaria Sand, Tyrion Lannister

Distinguishing Features:

Tattoo(s): None

Piercings: None

Scar(s): None notable

Other Markings: None notable

Prominent Feature(s): Slight greying in his hair, beard and moustache

Injuries: Oberyn is knocked to his feet by The Mountain unexpectedly during the fight, and punched in the mouth, resulting him losing most of his teeth. He has his eyes gouged out by The Mountain using his thumbs. Then having his skull crushed and caved in is what ultimately kills him

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Brown

Personality:

Traits: Seductive, cunning, vengeful

Oberyn is from Dorne. Dorne is one of the nine constituent regions of the Seven Kingdoms. It is the southernmost part of the continent of Westeros, located thousands of miles from Winterfell and the North, and has a harsh desert climate. Sunspear, also known as the Old Palace, is the seat of House Nymeros Martell and the capital of the Principality of Dorne. According to author George R.R. Martin, Dorne is loosely inspired by Spain, particularly the south's Moorish heritage, which culturally sets it apart from the rest of the country and of Western Europe. Oberyn speaks with an accent reminiscent of his heritage from Dorne, of which Pedro mentioned he used his own father's Chilean accent as inspiration.

Oberyn is seeking vengeance for the murder of his sister Elia against her murderer, The Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane. He also named his fifth daughter after his sister.

Oberyn has eight illegitimate bastard daughters (born outside of marriage), collectively known as the "Sand Snakes". Four of which he had with his current partner, his paramour, Ellaria Sand.

Whilst in love, Oberyn and Ellaria are not married as Ellaria herself is a bastard (born outside of marriage). Although Oberyn is allowed to be with her, marrying her would not be allowed as in Dorne as a Prince cannot marry a bastard.

As soon as Oberyn arrives in Kings Landing, arriving in the dawn to avoid a greeting party, he immediately goes to the brothel to indulge with Ellaria.

Oberyn's overall attitude was that life is short, and one must enjoy all of life's pleasures while one can. He would rather live life on his own terms, openly challenging his enemies and risk destruction rather than live by someone else's rules. Rather ironically, it was Oberyn's zest for life, his temper, overconfidence, love for his sister, and hatred towards Ser Gregor Clegane that ultimately led to his death.

​Despite Oberyn dying at the hands of The Mountain, he was still able to extract revenge from beyond the grave. While The Mountain is being treated for his injuries, it is discovered that before the duel Oberyn had his spear blade coated with Manticore venom, which causes The Mountain's already severe wounds from the fight to putrefy horribly, leaving him in a catatonic, decaying, and agonized state.

Pedro learned Wushu to fight with a spear in the fight scene against The Mountain to enable Oberyn to move with speed and grace.

Fashion/Outfits:

Outfit 1 - (Opening scene) Golden yellow robe embellished with bronze sun studding, orange silken undershirt, leather boots, brown leather belt, brass/bronze chain with pendant

Outfit 2 - (King Joffrey's wedding ceremony and feast scenes) Cream/white robes embellished with satin, silken embellished scarf wrapped around waist, leather boots, brass/bronze chain with pendant

Outfit 3 - (In the brothel scene) Dark black embellished scarf, dark lounge pants, brass/bronze chain with pendant

Outfit 4 - (Walking with Cersei and on the council scenes) Golden yellow robe embellished with bronze sun studding, yellow silken undershirt, sand coloured pants, leather boots, brown leather belt, brass/bronze chain with pendant

Outfit 5 - (Talking with Lord Varys scene) Yellow/orange silken embroidered robe, orange silken under shirt, leather brown belt, leather boots

Outfit 6 - (Tyrion's trial and visiting Tyrion in his cell) Golden yellow robe embellished with bronze sun studding, yellow silken undershirt, sand coloured pants, leather boots, brown leather belt, brass/bronze chain with pendant

Outfit 7 - (Fighting the mountain scene) Brown leather snakeskin embossed armour, brown leather belt, brown pants, brown leather boots. Matching helmet, which he did not wear.

Accessories: Oberyn wears a brass/bronze pendant with floral detailing on the plate. He wears a gold band ring on each thumb. His belts also act as sheaths for his dagger and sword.

Weapons Used:

Weapon(s): (Exact weapons pictured below)

Oberyn has a dagger he wears on his right hip in a sheath on his belt. The dagger has a dark handle, possibly onyx, with red jewelled detailing blended into the handle.

Oberyn's spear is entwined with a golden snake and the shape of the blade is said to be modelled to represent a snake's tongue. He laced the spear head with poison. The tassels are made from snakeskin.

Oberyn's sword has a snake head handle and has the same black and red jewelled detailing as his dagger. Oberyn is not seen using his sword at all, instead favouring to use another spear when his first one is broken by The Mountain.

Modes of Transport:

Vehicle(s):

Oberyn is not seen using any forms of transport, however as a Prince he would have his own horse. Tyrion sets out to greet the cavalcade of horses, however Oberyn, in place of his brother Doran, had already arrived in the early dawn in secret. According to the book version of Oberyn, his horse is a Sand Steed, "a stallion black as sin with a mane and tail the colour of fire" when arriving in King's Landing.

Dialogue:

🗨 See Oberyn's full dialogue from the show, including deleted scenes.

Further Character Links (if any):

Oberyn Martell A Fire & Ice Wiki, Oberyn Martell A Wiki Of Westeros, Behind The Scenes The Viper & The Mountain

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

#oberyn martell #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #oberyn martell game of thrones #game of thrones #the red viper #pedro pascal character database #oberyn martell character analysis #pedro pascal character analysis

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

3 - An Intrigue Drenched in Blood

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 8.6k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, animal death, discussions of child murder and infanticide, brothels, blood and violence, slight canon divergence

Notes: Previous Chapter Here, Things pick up from this point on, I assure you. Series Masterlist Here.

Bright and noisy was the state of Kings Landing as knights poured in from every corner of the most populous cities. All with their shiny armour and polished bravados like they were every bit of confident that they would win the winning gold and glory. They were never your kind of attraction even in your younger years here. The play fighting that so many of these men staked their life on, and of all the days to miss it was yesterdays which had the worst of action.

Not allowing the chance to even truly approach for a question, Ser Gregor Clegane otherwise known as The Mountain had speared the newly knighted Ser Hugh with a lance right through the throat. A space in his armour seemingly perfect for such an action and it felt hard to believe that it was nothing but a coincidence. Nothing in this city was a coincidence anymore it felt.

Walking towards the stands you passed by where curiously your King uncle was absent from his seat. Not a man to miss a spectacle you toyed with the ridiculous notion that he would ride in the event. Even now you could recall a time when you were thirteen and a tourney was on just like this one, you had stopped by the tent King Robert was in and admonished him for being so foolish to join.

It was easier to be comfortable with him in those days. You were sat up on a table, popping grapes into your mouth as you casually would remark that not only would no man dare hurt the King even in jest, but that the armour he was trying to fit in was about fifteen years too small. Were you not so close, he might have gotten you in trouble for such a comment. You couldn’t imagine even having a conversation with him that would allow for fun now.

The King was less miserable, and typically more reasonable and sober back then and you were still full of a youth like pep in this city. You still had the urge to explore the nearly fifty miles length of tunnels hidden about by the former dynasty and the pretty colours, bright sun, and vast diversity of lords and ladies impressed you. You still could walk into this city with a smile, unlike now. Maybe it was the loss of a childhood trait, or more realistically it was the adult understanding that this was a dangerous place and you’d be a fool to think otherwise.

You still wore the pretty dresses, and entertained the noble daughters whom were some degree of friends but the spark was gone from your eyes despite it all. This place and it’s people no longer giving you joy, instead just now a place of bloodshed and the tediousness of cleaning up after your King’s messes. No wonder your fathers scowl had deepened the lines in his forehead so much, you were beginning to think you’d return to Robb in Winterfell, stress having doubled your age on him.

Spotting Renly, he gave you a closed mouth smile of surprise as you pulled your skirt upwards to climb the steps before flattening it all out as you sat next to him. His voice was as light as ever, not that you expected much. “When you asked if I’d be here, I didn't actually expect you to show up. I thought this wasn’t your kind of thing, my dear niece.”

Tilting your head with a slight grimace you relented. “No, I can’t say I see the great appeal in cheering about men whose claims are they are young and very good at knocking men off horses with a stick.”

Nudging you with his arm, Renly smirked. “Shame, you could do with some fun in your life, shake up the terribly boring personality my brother passed onto you.” Glaring with only a flicker of your eyes to the side, you felt back a slight smirk as he just sauntered onward like nothing. “I hope for Robb Stark’s sake you aren’t such a rigid, bore in bed as well. Last thing one of those northerners need is less enthusiasm in their personal lives.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a breath before just passing him onto the truth. “I promised Shireen I’d go see a tournament, so I can write to her all about it.” You dared not look at him, knowing it was something unjustly vile about her on his tongue.

You think you could see him shrug somewhat beside you. “At least it gets you out for once, you and Lord Stark seem to be working way too hard for a King whose never going to thank you for it.”

Watching the very man approach, he nodded with an unblinking stare for just a second before sitting next to his daughter. No one thought your jobs, certainly not Hand of the King’s job was done for the sake of thanks. Not when the King had attended maybe two or three small council meetings over the course of the six years you’ve been sitting in on them to some degree.

Squinting in the bright sun, you shrugged with an otherwise flat expression. “Someone in this family should do the hard work for once, I may as well take over that mantle.”

Chuckling, Renly and yourself glanced over to the King making his own way to his seat finally, the bumbling sack of nerves and apologies that was his squire following suit with the wine. “Don’t be so harsh on our King, takes a lot of energy to fuck as many whores as he does at that age.”

The contenders next begun to ride up. Ser Gregor large and as brutish as ever on a large yet skittish black horse that seemed to be as unsettled as many felt looking at the man. On the other side, dressed in a bright and ornate armour with poise was his opponent. Curls atop his head neat and styled and a rose in his hand as he looked towards the stands near where you sat, for a subject to give it too.

Settling on the young redhead in the front stands a few rows from you, you could see the elation in Sansa’s shoulders as she gently accepted it. “Thank you, Ser Loras.”

Unnoticed to her as he took steps away, glancing up to the rows where you sat he glanced with a pointed glint in his eyes. Renly did not respond, but the words were there as there was solidarity in your silence. You would tease your uncle as he would you, but something between the dynamic you two had build up seemed to have been discussed in the men’s private affairs. Your teasing was never meant as anything but fodder for banter.

The shared look was not romantic, but they tended to stay away in public due to image. Much of the court knew about Renly, you weren’t as sure many, if any at all, outside of the small collection of whisperers, knew enough to say the same about the son of Mace Tyrell, heir to Highgarden.

In the seat below you and one above the two Starks, Lord Baelish turned with a jaunty grin. “A hundred gold dragons on the Mountain.”

Renly beside, did not hesitate. “I’ll take that bet.”

The two knights made their way to each side of the procession as the lower man begun to brag of his confidence. “Now what will I buy with a hundred gold dragons? A dozen barrels of Dornish Wine, or a girl from the pleasure houses of Lys?”

With a quirk of your eyebrow, you glanced at him. “You could even buy a friend.” The reaction was as satisfying as such a man could emote. A smile as if he knew a secret you didn’t and it only reminded you why bothering to speak to him was so grating. Lord Baelish not allowing for a moment to let another get the one up on him even in words he always felt compelled to have the final look, the final say.

The trumpets sounded out, both riders finally going towards the other as it only lasted for a mere moment. Loras’s Lance striking Ser Gregors shield and pushing him back. The large black horse fumbling in it’s steps as it fell into the wooden railings and knocking the large knight himself to the ground. The crowd cheering with delight as you felt the pride next to you.

Pride in both energy and voice as Renly shouted down smugly, “Such a shame, Littlefinger. It would've been so nice for you to have a friend.”

Standing up and turning to face you both with a quieter tone and a wider smile, you felt the creeping below your skin with a narrowing of your brows. “And tell me, Lord Renly. When will you be having your friend?”

Both of you said nothing, but the glares spoke many things all at once that the man only found amusement in as he turned back. You and Renly glancing at the other for only a moment of seriousness before you glanced back to the waving Ser Loras at the people. “Dare I ask how much gold you two are playing around with to come up with that little stunt?”

Renly laughed, the one thing about you that separated from your father is that you didn’t have to lecture to disprove. If the rich wanted to play with their money like jesting boys, you’d just let them it didn’t matter to you. Leaning in to whisper closer to your ear, “To be fair my dear niece, it wouldn’t have worked as well on any other horse. A man’s animal is only as wild as it’s owner they say.”

The next words didn’t come out of your mouth, as the sounds combined with what image flashed in the side of your vision gathered a mix of yells and stunned silence. Ser Gregor at some point having acquired his sword, took it through his horse’s neck in a single slice. The anger in him wild and untamable as he turned on his opponent, knocking Ser Loras to the ground only just missing from by strikes to his shield.

Both you and Renly standing at the action, Loras was good, but not good enough for that. Strike once twice, enough that you felt the bubbling anxiety in your chest before a growling voice came down from that of the King’s Stand to leave him be.

Striking his sword against his before each pushed away from the other, brother against brother stared the other down in a hatred that spoke more about themselves then it did defence of another. Ser Sandor Clegane, the brother of the giant Knight in front of him with half his face burned in a sear of fire for life. Half the hair on that side barley able to cover it beyond the strands coming from the top of his head that weren’t destroyed.

It wasn’t of any interest to you, nor did it matter, but you recall learning what such a mark meant and how it happened. The two now clashing swords, your eyes narrowed and your nerves grew tense in your muscles. This would get out of hand until more bloodshed arrived but only one man dared to interrupt such a commotion.

“Stop this madness in the name of your King,” The roar from the stands as King Robert stood was strong and echoing. Ser Gregor taking a final swing as the other ducked the blow with a surprising grace as he bent down to kneel, sword stabbed in the ground with a bow of his head.

You felt Renly’s own nerves ease beside you as the Mountain threw his sword to the ground with a raging huff and stormed off. The King yelling to let him go as the crowd parted in a justified terror. The Hound was not a man you enjoyed associating with, found too much pleasure in the necessary harshities of life and considered you to be as aggravating and dull as he did your father. However, he did follow around your wretched cousin for most of his days and that would make anyone angry.

The crowd cheered for Ser Loras and The man most just called The Hound as the smaller and younger raised the others hand in the air of victory, you and Renly sitting back down slowly.

Glancing at him, you could see a brightness in his eyes looking at the proclaimed Knight of the Flowers, and you couldn’t see it within you to give anymore passing jests at the matter. His new close association with the Tyrells struck you as an odd choice, and it pinged a distrust in your brain but you in no way had let it effect what a terror that would be for him.

Renly wasn’t a fighter of any kind, you weren’t even sure he had ever held something longer then a stick to play fight with and certainly had never been hit hard enough to bleed. It’s scary to imagine that you are forced to sit there and do nothing as the man you love has a blade shoved into him.

You perished the thought, you dared not let yourself imagine anything for the two faces which struck you as the scariest.

Sighing to yourself as you walked through the Red Keep you were thankful for the silence, the handmaidens appointed to you were fine girls, good at their jobs, but they were also giggly and chatty and fussed over you a bit too much. Having to tell them day after day, “I can walk myself through the castle halls my ladies, I assure you.”

When you were younger, it was either one of your fathers household guards that would keep and eye on you, or another who wasn’t sworn to serve but seemed to always know when you snuck off. Ser Barristan was in the sworn brotherhood of the Kingsguard, but he took a liking to you the day you arrived in Kings Landing. Not quite good at holding your tongue just yet, but you were still serious and respectful like your father taught you.

It was one day he had been sent by the King to fetch his niece so he could spend some time with you that he came across the most unique of sights. A wide area of Lord Stannis’s quarters had been pushed up against the wall and he stood in the middle with you, only aged thirteen, with a wooden sword in your hand.

He watched for a while, seeing the clever instruction your father was giving you. Ser Barristan knowing your lord father to be a formidable opponent and one that he would not wish to fight on the other side of a battlefield. Yet it wasn’t that style which he taught you.

You were less hacking and slashing, and more about swift movements and carefully timed slices that would cut down faster then your strength could overpower. After that, it was he who often found his way to accompany you when the King had no immediate need of him.

Days like this, you almost missed that. You didn’t want the hen chatter of girls fussing over you like you were the princess but you did miss the company of those who didn’t see fit to treat you like a dainty doll. Sometimes you had wondered if your strange mix of ladylike properness and a tendency to more lordly tasks was because of your father. He gave you and Shireen a lords education and such teachings led you to other interests.

To many you weren’t ladylike enough, but it wasn’t as if you pretended to be anything but the highborn lady you were born as. You enjoyed the company of other women, you took pride in your appearance like many, but you also spent much of your days as a teenager being kicked in the mud and hit with wooden swords by three teenage boys that had no qualms of making you feel like you were fine at being both.

However, as you heard a groan of frustration and tiny pattering of feet scampering beside you as it dodged into the hall, you were met with an amusing sight. Arya was covered in a layer of sweat and grime as well as what appeared to be scratches along her forearms when she stopped. Bending forward to rest her palms on her thighs as she caught her breathe, only flinging back up in surprise when you chuckled.

Slowly approaching, you didn’t bother hiding a smirk. “Such a ghastly state of dress for a highborn girl such as yourself, Lady Arya.” Your chuckle bellowed to a much heartier laugh at how quickly she told you to shut up.

Coming closer to you, she plopped herself down onto a small series of steps as you carefully sat down to join her. “Syrio has me catching cats. If I can be quick enough to catch them, then I’m quick enough to move around my opponents.” You smiled fondly at her, exhausted and covered in scratches that looked unseemly like looking at your once self.

Glancing up, you kept your eye on the black cat hiding around the corner. Peeking it’s one ear’d head out occasionally to eye it’s chaser. “You’re smaller then a normal target. They’re stronger but if you’re faster then them, that’s how you get them before they get you.” When she looked at you with a curious question in her eye, you shrugged looking back to the black cat. “It’s what Jon told me when he started to teach me how to swing a sword.”

Looking up with narrowed brows she asked, “I thought your father taught you?”

Nodding, your fingertips started to tap at the other in a fidget. That memory was still clear as it was when it happened. “Sort of. You were just born, you wouldn’t remember any of it. But it was one night I couldn’t sleep and I ended up wandering into the training yard. I was fooling around with one of the training swords, no idea what I was doing at all. And before I knew it, Jon had snuck up behind me and hit me in the legs with one and I just fell to the ground.”

Arya looking a bit taken back, but you laughed. “We all used to rough house a lot more back then, me and your brothers. He and Robb were around fourteen or fifteen by that point, and I was twelve. So just shy of being too old to pick on girls anymore.”

Moving to tuck her knees closer to her chest she wrapped her arms around them. “So what, he hit you and then..?”

You mimicked the same position, “At first he joked that if I was going to play with swords I should at least learn to not turn my back unguarded. But then he asked if I really wanted to know how to use one.” Feeling far away, the girl next to you disappeared as well as the castle walls around you. “I think we met up after everyone went to sleep for three weeks straight. He taught me some basics, then realized I would learn a bit better if he didn’t teach me how to fight like him, but how to fight against someone like him.”

Smiling to yourself, it was during those nights all to yourself that had done you two in. You weren’t a lady in that moment, and he wasn’t a bastard. You were just you and Jon, your best friend guiding you how to fight simply beacuse you wanted to know and he wanted to teach you. You got roughed up a lot, in the privacy of the night, Jon certainly didn’t shy away from grabbing and throwing you around when you got too cocky.

“When I returned home, my father recognized what kind of cuts and bruises they were, instantly. I never told him who did it, I was scared he’d write to Lord Stark and Jon would get in trouble. But he never got mad at me. No, he figured if I wanted to learn and I already was, then he saw no reason to not continue himself.”

Those days you think were some of the last time you and your father so easily got along. He smiled and laughed during those lessons in his quarters, proud of his daughter so keen on learning the things that helped made him the Lord he was. You hadn’t seen your father so freely smile like the did on those days in a very long time. It was the last time he felt truly like your father, and not more like your Lord.

Lost in thought for more then you assumed, Arya’s voice startled you. “Does it bother you?” Glancing down at her, but she was looking at her feet not you. “Having to act like a lady when you want to do things the boys do?”

Considering for a moment, you saw no reason to sugar the truth. “For a while it did. When I came to Kings Landing for the first time, everyone treated me like a fancy highborn lady when both on Dragonstone and in Winterfell, people just treated me more like who I was already.”

Formality of such high luxury certainly was not common on Dragonstone. Being doted on and cared for like it was a waste of your effort to lift a finger that much was not the way of your father. You didn’t have so much done for you, that you forget what it means to earn your keep through your own means.

“But, I think I had to learn that it wasn’t being a lady that I didn’t want.” Glancing down to her, who now was looking at you with wide eyes. “It was just that I didn’t want to be the kind of lady people like the Queen wanted me to be. I’m nothing like Sansa, but I’m as much a lady as she is.”

Arya looked away quickly, a flash of long hurt in her eyes that you knew stemmed from a sister who didn’t treat her well. “My father wants me to be like her.”

Not even a second hesitation did you spend, “He doesn’t.” Turning to face her properly, you called her name firmly. “Arya. Fathers will always want things for their children, things that they have no way of knowing what we’d like about it or not. He’s not a mind reader, he can’t see the future you want for yourself and sometimes accepting that it’s different then what he envisioned takes time. But he adores you, and he would never tell you to be someone you can’t be.”

Running a hand over her hair, you could feel her trying not to lean into it. Trying to look impassive instead of upset as you continued. “We’re not all going to get the future we dreamed of, but that doesn’t mean your father wouldn’t support your choices no matter how different from Sansa’s they are at the end of the day. He went out of his way to hire Syrio to teach you something he first said wasn’t for girls. He wants you happy, even if it doesn’t lead you to the future he wants or you want.”

“Like how you didn’t get the future you wanted?”

Taken back, you didn’t understand her words but there was no anger or judgment in them as she elaborated. “You didn’t get to marry who you wanted, but every time I see you writing or opening a letter Robb sent you, you still smile in the same way my father does at my mother.”

Not in these open walls would you broach that. Not sure of what she knows or suspected or if you were just projecting onto her. You smiled, and your next words echoed the very thing Jon told you would be what was in store for you. “I’ve known Robb since I was eight. He’s easy to fall in love with.”

Your lips remembering his, and how easy it was to let his touch and his deep words make you lose yourself in him. But also the boyish grins whenever he teased you, the lack of worry you had knowing you could say anything to him and there’d be only support. Even before.

Somewhere in your heart was something far different that needed not thinking of now, or even if you had to think long enough to be real with yourself. But it was locked away for a reason. You couldn’t take that feeling with you, you had to let it go in order to give Robb who you really were. Not just pretend.

That part of your heart, had been captured protectively by the other. That part of your heart now sat heavy alongside that of the wolf who took it with him. That part of love was tucked away safely at the Wall with the one who insisted you not take it with you. You were with Robb now, and no matter what one part of you said, the other part of you yearned to see Robb and actually be happy. You did want it.

“Sometimes the things we want, aren’t the things we originally asked for. But that’s part of duty, how to be just and firm in our choices. Whatever your duty becomes, you have to learn to want it. Otherwise it’ll just eat away at you.”

Glancing up, you saw the little tomcat start to inch away down a stairwell, pulling a smirk as you nodded your chin over to it. “I hope you really want that cat, Arya because he’s about to bolt.”

Her head whipping up, you watched her leap to her feet sprinting down the hall as the little black cat sprinted off faster. As Arya grumbled loudly, you laughed freely.

Much true of words, you didn’t come here wanting to be wrapped in the tendrils of liars and spiders, but as you entered Lord Stark’s room? The very spider sat in the seat across from him, his face somewhat less apprehensive as it was you who entered, not one of mistrust. “My lady.”

“Lord Varys.” You did not sit int he seat beside him, coming to the end of Lord Stark’s desk and leaning back against the wall closest to it, arms crossed as you and him shared a look. His eyes steady and serious as you nodded. “Am I interrupting?”

Cordial and showing no intent, yet he never fooled you. “Not at all, in fact it makes it easier to share such sensitive information while you both are here.”

Lord Stark stared intently at the man, trying to gauge just as you. “Lord Varys seems to think the Kings life is in danger.”

“Oh I don’t think, Lord Stark. I’m afraid I know.”

Your posture couldn’t be more uptight and rigid as your stoned face, but you found no patience in playing nice as Lord Varys did. “Are you speaking of the same kind of danger that killed Jon Arryn?”

A slow nod, his voice was even as if none of this effected him. Despite his very presence and confidence of truth saying otherwise. “If you suspect Lord Arryn was poisoned, it would need to be one that was fast and utterly incapacitating if given the proper dose.”

“If we suspect?” Your emphasis on the doubt of we as in you and Lord Stark had Varys raise an eyebrow to you.

“I assure you my Lady, I don’t act on questions or doubts.” Glancing between you and Lord Stark he settled on what appeared to be the one who relaxed his trust more. “The tears of Lys, they call it. A rare and costly thing, as clear and tasteless as water. It leaves no trace.”

Lord Stark rose, pacing in thought towards the open air of his balcony. Your jaw clenching in consideration of the idea. What Grand Maester Pycelle had said, he seemed confident at first it must have been natural causes. If he didn’t sense a foul attribute then this ran deeply, did it not?

Asking who would give it to him, his voice was muffled as he still looked out to the city. Lord Varys playing such a game that irritated you. Telling you what you already know, but in a riddle to avoid any prying listeners to the subject. Never close to a man who says what he means. “Some dear friend, no doubt. But which one, there were so many. Lord Arryn was a kind and trusting man. There was one boy, all he was he owed to Jon Arryn.”

Squire to Knight upon his masters death, and yet once the master was dead soon was the squire turned knight. Something was tying up it’s loose ends but the ends of what? Lord Varys only saying whoever paid Ser Hugh would’ve been someone able to afford such a price.

His hands pressed against the top of his chair, the same yarns spun in Lord Starks head. You looked from him to Lord Varys. “Jon Arryn was Hand for over twenty years, why kill him now?”

Leaning forward, he spoke of something he knew the answer to and yet still forced you and Lord Stark to form more of that very thing on your own. “He started asking questions.”

There was no way of knowing how haunting this meeting would be to you one day.

The ferocity of your Uncle as he called a meeting of the small council himself told everyone whom didn’t already know the newest update, that something was about to explode. King Robert was the most blatant example of the fury of a Baratheon as any of you living now.

Something akin to madness was in his eyes as you watched him arrive, there was a calmness in both Lord Varys and Renly, a curiousness in Grand Maester Pycelle as he arrived and a difficult to read Lord Baelish who was the only other one present then Pycelle who didn’t know. As Lord Stark finally arrived, walking in you wondered how much of a unified front it appeared to be.

Niece and brother on both sides of the King Baratheon and a horrific message displayed. The only time your King uncle did not mince words, was now. Drenched in anger and vengeance that did not sit comfortably in your stomach. He looked at Lord Stark with all the vitriol he could, spitting out in anger “The whore is pregnant.”

Lord Stark hardly finding it in him to care for hiding his disgust but they fell on the Kings deaf rage.

It was like he didn’t even hear the man speak. “I warned you with would happen. Back in the North, I warned you but you didn’t care to hear. Well hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both, and that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them dead.”

You hadn’t been born until two years after the rebellion ended, you’d never seen him in a place that wasn’t in times of peace and yet he ranted and raved as if all three of them were armed and blooded at the gates. This was not a man you recognized, this was a man who spoke of an unborn child with the same he did of Rhaegar Targaryean.

Lord Stark’s tone was deep, cracking with a shocked twinge at who this man was. “You will dishonour yourself forever if you do this.”

The fury grew louder as he spoke. “Honour? I’ve got seven kingdoms to run. One king, seven kingdoms. Do you think honour keeps them in line? Do you think it’s honour that’s keeping the peace? It’s fear. Fear and blood.”

Your father had a similar idea but never in a lifetime would it be in a manner like this. Lord Stannis felt that if people don’t fear you they won’t follow you. That if you can’t scare the wicked away then the good will not stick around to be picked off by what you refuse to pluck out. If you don’t pull the weeds out by their roots with determined force, then they will overtake the garden and nothing good will stay to grow between the rot.

Your voice was rough, as if your throat was scratched in need of water but it was hissed out without much care for hiding the feeling building. “Fear and blood isn’t far from fire, now is it?”

The King turned to his left to look at you, but you did not flinch back at the rage nor the spitting words from his mouth as he said your name. “Careful now. You’re my niece but you watch that.”

“You’re chasing shadows twenty years removed, shadows you can’t even be sure are real.”

Lord Varys far calmer then the other member still glaring your way. “My lady, you wrong me. Would I bring lies to the king and his council?” You both stared at one another, and in just a brief moment so quick you could’ve imagined it, there was a flash of something in his eyes.

Something like what he found in yours unsettled him. The way you know for a fact, he had looked at Lord Stannis many times over. Lord Stark asked who even provided the information. The spider’s answer did nothing but leave the wolf and little stag unconvinced. Or you supposed, given the calm manner which Renly refused to challenge and the true fury in the other?

Perhaps the two unconvinced members of this council, were indeed two wolves.

“Jorah Mormont. He is serving as advisor the Targaryeans.” You huffed a breath of disbelieving laughter at such a spy. As Lord Stark looked as unimpressed, he himself having much more direct reason to press to them that he wasn’t to be relied on.

“Mormont? You bring us the whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact?” Lord Baelish trying to reason that being a slaver is not the same as a traitor and yet only traitors would betray their loyal family and flee across the sea to escape whatever sentence justice demanded from him. You took no part in entertaining slave traders.

“And if he’s right?”

Glaring once more at your king, “And if she miscarries, if the child dies in infancy? We do not plan murders based on a whispers of what if, your grace.” Your name spat once more but you did not hear. “You mean to fear someone who doesn’t even exist yet so much, that you’d murder it in their mothers womb and call that anything but that of a coward?”

King Roberts face almost red from fury as he once again hissed your name. “I told you to watch yourself or have you forgotten who is king here?”

You stared at him as still as possible, not recognizing this as your uncle. This King was a stranger.

“No, your grace. Have you?”

Lord Stark speaking up before the King took a chance to raise his voice so loud it booms through the seven kingdoms. “The Narrow Sea still lies between us. I’ll fear a Targaryean child the day the Dothraki teach their horses to run on water.”

Looking in shock between you both, he yelled at the others to talk sense into you two.

Lord Varys took his chance, looking to Lord Stark notably as opposed to you both. “I understand your misgivings, my Lord. It brings me no joy delivering this news to the council. It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing. Yet we who presume to rule, must do vile things for the good of the realm, however much it pains us.”

Grand Maester Pycelle took his reasoning, a rational approach to a fruitless endeavour. “I bear this girl no ill will, but should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die? How many towns will burn? Is it not wiser, kinder even, that she should die now to tens of thousands live?”

Tell that to the unborn child you refuse to give a chance, you thought to yourself.

Renly finally spoke, and you felt that weight in your chest plummet down and slam you hard into the floor. “We should have had them both killed years ago.”

Your eyes blazed as you looked at him, across the table. His were with no guilt even. Of course, the brother handed everything he did not earn nor deserve by the brother he now sat beside advocating for what he sees as the least amount of effort for the most unfair of results. Lord Baelish spoke somewhere to your left but you did not break your eyes from Renly.

“When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, best close your eyes and get it over with. Cut her throat, be done with it.”

The men here all sickened you but none as vile as Lord Baelish. Not even King Robert’s rage made you feel as if you were covered in the slime from a swamp from his voice alone.

Lord Stark looked his old friend right in the eye. “I followed you into war, twice. Without doubts, without second thoughts, but I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn’t tremble at the shadow of an unborn child. I will have no part in it.”

“You’re the Kings Hand, Lord Stark. You’ll do as I command or I’ll find me a hand who will.”

Lord Stark’s only action, was to look his friend in the eye as he pulled off the pin of his position, and tossed it onto the table as it landed with a clunk. “And good luck to him. I thought you were a better man.”

The yelling went on for some time. Not a single one of you with the capability to have him calm his fury and the unravelling of what once made him a King fell before your eyes. As some finally begun to leave, you sat in your seat before projecting loudly. “Your grace? A word?”

Room emptied out, he turned to you. His voice quieter but not without it’s rage. “You have a lot of gall to speak to your king like that, girl.”

Not moving an inch your eyes blazed towards him with a narrowed brow. “Speak to you like what? Like you’re a coward afraid of an unborn infant?”

“A coward-”

Slowly pushing yourself up, you braced your palms on the long table. “Tell me, your grace. What happened the last time a half Targaryean babe was murdered along with their mother? How well did that serve us in the long run, or I am I just supposed to assume that House Martell has forgiven all of that?”

King Robert stormed closer, leaning his fists much like you did your palms. With a tilt of his head you felt as if he somehow still towered over you. “They were that son of a bitch’s own children or did you forget that too? You’d have them alive now and walking around doing gods know what just beacuse doing what needs to be done isn’t honourable?”

“This isn’t about honour,” Your own voice finally rose to a proper shout and your uncles head jolted back as his eyes widened for a moment. “I’m talking about justice. You aren’t an honourable King for doing this, but you’re certainly not giving Lyanna justice by murdering women and children who’ve done nothing.”

“She hasn’t been done right by until every member of that family is dead-”

He leaned forward and so did you. “You served her justice. You killed Prince Rhaegar at the Trident, you were the jury and executioner for his crimes and blaming those who weren’t even there or alive for it has nothing to do with Lyanna and you can’t serve a just sentence for something that isn’t even close to have happened yet.”

You weren’t fool to think you got through to him, but he was lost in thought for just long enough for you to find the limit of your handling be reached. “Don’t do anything to people who haven’t proved a harm to you. That unborn child is someone you’ve never met, you have no idea what they could grow up to become, uncle.”

Passing by, he was simmering down as you were when you stopped beside him. “I’m not even telling you what to do about the girl. You choose to kill her, and just her I will not argue. But you cannot punish an infant just beacuse they have drops of Targaryean blood somewhere in their veins. You have no idea what that child could turn into, and if they are a threat? Then we serve out that justice. But only when justice is required.”

You got to the door before he spoke, voice raised to catch the distance as he turned to look at you.

“It doesn’t matter what you two do. If I won’t give it to him, I won’t give it to you.”

You shook your head, a sad sigh breathing from your lips. “I wasn’t asking for it, your grace. And with all due respect, I’m not just your niece. I’m his daughter. Not yours. I wasn’t raised to think you were ever in the right towards him.”

The door which closed behind you sealed you and Lord Stark inside. You have to admit, there was nothing more of a bizarre shock to the day this had been, then being told Lord Arryn and Lord Stannis had visited this brothel together. You father alone being here was enough to conjure an image of him that you wondered how rigid and emotionless you came across to these woman as he likely did.

Lord Baelish had urged you and Lord Stark to visit his establishment, to see the last person Jon Arryn visited before his death.

The girl in front of you, her name Mhaegen, was little more then a child. Younger then you, but you doubted with your heart that were you to ask Lord Baelish how old she was, that he’d give you an honest answer. In her arms, was a stunning baby girl.

Bright green eyes, already the makings of a strong face of dark hair and once more a ping inside you clung. Two actually, but the first one was how much of a Baratheon this little girl was. “She looks like him, don’t she, My lady? She has his nose, his black hair?”

You stood slightly in front of Lord Stark, running your finger down the girl’s cheek. She looked so much like Shireen did at that age, you wondered if you held her, would she yank at a stand of your hair until your head was leaning cuddled against hers. Something your new baby sister had loved to do when you could still hold her at that time.

But this baby wasn’t just a reminder of your sister, it wasn’t even a clue of mystery about how this all connected to Lord Arryns death. No, you were looking at this baby girl, your raging Uncle’s bastard daughter and you were stunned by this was your cousin.

This small girl was your cousin like Joffery was, and yet this girl smiled weakly as you tickled the side of her neck with a coo and a smile. How many of them were in this city alone? How many of them didn’t have a clue that they belonged to a family that could give them life outside of the poverty of flea bottom?

Lord Stark stepped up beside you, as the no doubt teenage girl looked to him. “I named her Barra. Tell him when you see him, my lord. If it pleases you, tell him how beautiful she is?”

Lord Stark said he would, but you both knew it would not matter. The King barley had any love in his heart shown towards his own children, for as many faults as Queen Cersei had no one could doubt the love for her children was a real as her hair was blonde.

Children, babies, that meant nothing to the man your uncle had become.

“And tell him I’ve been with no one else. I swear it my lord. By the old gods and the new. I don’t want no jewels or nothing, just him. The King was always good to me.”

The gods have mercy what a web of lies King Robert had played this girl up to, to think he’d ever entertain her as more then something to warm his bed and little Barra as anything but a bastard to cast out beacuse highborns like the King had no use for anything that didn’t bear his name or his house’s titles.

Perhaps becoming a Stark was the final nail hammered in that deemed you not one of him anymore.

Lord Stark asked what it was Jon Arryn wanted, and to the only amusement you found that day, she looked almost worried she painted the wrong idea of him. “He wasn’t that sort of man, my lord. He just wanted to know if the child was happy. And healthy.”

He looked at the glee on the young mothers face at her babe, the longing and tragedy deep within your eyes barley hidden by a steel mask that weight you down. He ran his hand over the baby’s foot gently as he spoke, “She looks healthy enough to me. She’ll want for nothing.”

He didn’t have to pull you physically, but it seemed like tearing away from the girl was a cruel task. Just an infant who had a lifetime of poverty and neglect in front of her all beacuse your King Uncle had no taste for self decency. You thought too of the one in the armoury, Gendry. How learning of who his father was, would come as no comfort considering the sort of man Robert Baratheon was proving himself to be.

No child deserved to grow up fatherless, but perhaps knowing who they are could hurt or disappoint then thinking they were just a no one. Joining Lord Stark into the next room where Lord Baelish looked as relaxed as ever and you felt as rigid as ever.

It wasn’t such a place that bothered you, but it certainly was the eyes and ears of who owned it and for what. You wondered if there was even any women in this establishment who didn’t fuck just to fill Lord Baelish’s need for information.

“What do you know about King Robert’s bastards?” Lord Stark had asked him.

With a sly grin, it was impossible to tell which he looked at more. The proper Stark, or you. “Well, he has more then you for a start.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you pushed it down as far as it could go.

“How many?”

Lord Baelish glanced at you with no doubt this time, before sliding them back to Lord Stark. “Does it matter? If you fuck enough women, some of them will give you presents.”

Presents being children who will never feel like their apart of a world that respects them.

Lord Baelish gave you no answer as he walked slowly to you, Lord Stark, and the accompanying Jory to the door. Something inside you was screeching and yelling, like it had the answer to something you weren’t quite at yet. It made your heart pound, but it also set your blood alight like it burned. You didn’t know why, and yet what arrived outside for you was it’s own present that intended to ruin.

Members of the Lannister guard surrounded the area, standing two to one of the Stark’s own household guard their spears at the ready. All three of you slowly wandering into the streets slowly, your lips parted as galloping came forth until a horse with Jaime Lannister sat atop came by. “Such a small pack of wolves.”

He was not a foe you could beat, nor were you prepared for such at all kind of fight. Not truly. Jory using a calm reason to such aggression. “Stand back, Ser. This is the Hand of the King.”

The eyes on him were glinting with smugness but anger. “Was the Hand of the King. Now I’m not sure what he is, Lord of somewhere very far away.” Climbing off the horse, he paced every so slowly with a bravado only a true dangerous fighter could pull off like he could. “I’m looking for my brother. You remember my brother, Lord Stark? Blond hair, sharp tongue, short man.”

Lord Stark steady and calm as you were with a heart that wanted to strangle your lungs from within, “I remember him well.”

Looking to the side at nothing, there was as smirk that seemed to think the northerners cared to play such a game, or you for that matter. “It seems he had some trouble on the road. You wouldn’t know what happened to him, would you?”

He had done none of that, but Lord Stark did not go against his wife’s actions even for a single second as he declared, “He was taken at my command. To answer for his crimes.”

Lannister men shaking their amour as some reached for a better hold on their weapons as the lion pulled his. “Come, Stark. I’d rather see you die sword in hand.”

Moment of anger, or naivety, or just a helpless love you stepped forward with sharp narrowed eyes, “If you threaten my lord again-”

Lord Stark held a hand out, gently keeping you in place and by his side despite the lion pointing his sword with a smirk. “Threaten? As in, I’m going to open your lord from balls to brains and see what Stark’s are made of?”

“You kill me, your brother’s a dead man.”

It all happened so fast, Jaime turning to his own, “Take them both alive, kill his men.”

You had little on you, a small blade that you pulled from a pocket that fit in the palm of your hand almost. You sliced it at the weak softness on the Lannister armour of the one who approached you, crying out as blood split from the cut and you ducked to avoid his counter.

You were fast but it was against too many and a woman whom had no armour, only a dress, and no real weapons to speak off as the Stark guardsmen were taken out most by surprise. As you moved, almost punching into the neck of a Lannister one it punctured a wound enough to have him sputter up and fall to the side as Jaime Lannister shoved a small dagger of his own into Jory’s eye.

Stood in shock for just long enough that the rest were overwhelmed until it was them against the two of you. Lord Stark pulling his own sword, you were suddenly hauled backwards by two arms which didn’t feel like armour was behind them.

Lord Baelish’s voice in your ear as you fought against him was a whisper, “You’re far more useful alive then dead, my dear.”

You were not strong, something Jon, Robb and your father all trained to to keep in mind. Even a man like Lord Baelish could keep you as long as he tried harder then your muscles did, but you couldn’t. You watched the two men clash swords, Jaime confident and Lord Stark desperate. You had hardly seen the Lannister fight in person, but he must have been quite good as for the briefest of seconds?

Lord Starks sword pushing him backwards, his eyes flickered between the man and the weapon worried that there might be a possibility that he loses. Just as Jaime lost the upper hand, one of the Lannister guards stepped forward.

With a harsh push, stabbed his spear into Lord Stark’s leg bringing him to his knees. Already shaking, you gasped with what little breath remained as the hold keeping you from the fight loosened. Enough to slip your arm just enough to lunge back into the middle of his chest.

Jaime standing back in hesitation, watching as you rushed to his side, uncaring of the sweat and blood staining your arms and dress as you grabbed Lord Stark to keep him from collapsing entirely. He shook from the pain and blood loss, you shook from the shock and pathetic cry of how useless you were in a place like this gods forsaken city.

Jaime Lannister climbed atop his horse, turning in place as he gave you both one last look that radiated of both anger and something like a sympathy that you wished you could snatch away and shove down his throat until it choked him. “My brother, Lord Stark. I want him back.”

The City Watch had found you like that, a barley conscious Eddard Stark with a spear in his leg as you looked to the dead around you. Killed for what? In retribution of a man who tried to have a ten year old boy murdered twice?

The weakening look in Lord Stark’s eyes as he grew weaker, your lungs did not breathe nor did it feel like your heart ever stopped threatening to explode from your chest.

For a reason you could not explain, the sight or the light and angle making his appearance remind you so close to that of his son, you for a brief second imagined Robb in his place.

You didn’t understand why your mind conjured such an image, but you knew it horrified you all the same.

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