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rise-my-angel · 7 months

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Heart of the Great Wolf

18 - Afraid of a Ravens Flight

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

Length: 10.8k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, references to rape and abusive relationship, discussions of implied sexual context, canon divergence, strained familial dynamics

Notes: We start going gradually exploring new sights in not too long, so brace yourself. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

Jon truly couldn’t tell if he wanted to talk about it or not. Spent so long lying about what it was, lying to himself, lying to her, lying to all of them until he woke from a delirious dream back in the beds of Castle Black did he realize he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie about loving Ygritte when he woke from such a horror stricken vision of you pale and dead in your own blood, and to make it all the worse? Sam coming to him to say that not only was that dream real, but just beyond what he couldn’t see then, was Robb as dead as you were.

For a while, he did think he convinced himself what he was feeling was want. He had lied so much he manipulated his own mind into thinking it was true. Seeing her as someone she wasn’t, when in truth so much was spent as he watched himself teetering on mistrust, her teasing him with a mean kind of playfulness that he didn’t like. But she was aggressive and bold, and not liking her meant finding himself on the other end of her own blood thirst.

Jon never felt like he had to walk on eggshells around you. He wasn’t combative with you, he never had been and he hated the idea of speaking to you the way Ygritte would him. As if the threats of violence were supposed to be cute. Strangely his time with Ygritte reminded him more of the dynamic he knew you once shared with Theon.

Always bantering, Theon would make sexual advances in jest but the two of you would play at a battle of wit to see who could knock the other down a peg the most as a game. Jon had tried to ask him subtly once if Theon was truly attracted to you and the man had laughed. Sensing no ulterior, he just shook his head and told him “Just because a girl’s pretty enough to fuck, doesn’t mean I want her in my bed, Snow. Only means I have eyes that work.”

Ygritte was pretty, and at times there was simple genuine amusement in her banter but more often then not it was nothing like that. The small moments build into lies about who she was until Jon made the wrong call. Tried to play off of what he knew she felt for him and it got him shot full of arrows for it, and if he were to be honest, all lies died then. She didn’t kill him, but love in Jon’s eyes would never be anything to hurt the other.

There was no scenario which would ever lead to Jon harming you like that, and he certainly knew there was none that would ever have led to Robb harming you like that either. Real love hurts in the heart, not in blood.

Jon had heard Olly’s story, the details of the redheaded wildling and it wasn’t until that night as he watched the arrows flying into her back be shot from that same boy did he realize the monstrous actions she did. That was not an Ygritte Jon knew, nor did he want to. If it were love, Jon would’ve taken the time. Held her, brought her body to the North beyond the wall to burn her like a lover deserved, but he didn’t. He let the men drag her into the piles of the rest and spend the rest of his time being called a wildling lover with no bravery to tell any or even himself, that he never wanted what she took from him.

Things now though, weren’t quite as easy as he had wished. Seeing you, in person, right in front of him as your fingers gently traced along the scars on his chest had made him snap. Like he was set on fire and the only way he could be put out was you, in your taste, your kiss, and as Jon finally slid inside of you for the first time he knew he was consumed for life. But then you pulled away. Struggled to look at him, and walked around with something so lost and broken that he was terrified it was him.

That your moans and pleas were only a response because of how it felt, but Jon knew that if he didn’t want it when it felt good with Ygritte, he may have just forced the same onto you. Forced something onto you after what Ramsay had already done with much more blood and violence. But then you said something that bothered him more then anything else so far.

That you would have wanted all of it with Jon all over again, but refused in the thoughts you being here was ruining his life. That, he truly hated. Hated that something inside you said that you shouldn’t be here with him, like he didn’t spend his old life in love with you, and his new life desperate for you to let him be addicted to you.

As Jon looked out to the night, much of that evening he spent with the one person who treated him no different. Edd could sense that the time was approaching that Jon would leave and no one would have any protest to it, that he believed in him as a friend and a leader and having you show up with new life and bring it to him as well? Edd felt that maybe he was just supposed to go back to the North he grew up in, and find himself as a leader there, that maybe he was just supposed to do so. And you were a sign to “get your ass moving” as the man put it.

Jon thought of Robb often, he thought of all his siblings often but it was he and Arya that struck him the most. The ones that his world felt a bit more cold and lonely without. Would Robb hate him for what he was doing? Hate that in Jon’s first true reunion with you, he spent over half the night with either his mouth or his cock buried between your legs? That he wanted to do it again and again and all he could see was you and how much he wanted to be inside you?

Was his need for the woman Jon always loved now a great offence to the brother who passed? Yet on the other end, Jon had a very distinct feeling what Arya’s response would be. The word dumb or idiot surely would be in there somewhere as she would scold him for always pushing everything away that would make him happy. Arya knew about you both in those innocent days, not that he ever told you.

Suspected it with her endearingly keen eye and caught you both in secret thinking you were alone in the stables one day. It was only a kiss she saw, but did Arya ever come barging into his room later calling him dumb for not telling her. But now that there was nothing in the way of the way you both felt for each other, his little sister no doubt would have taken it upon herself to force you both to talk.

But she wasn’t, and Jon wouldn’t force you to talk. He knew how gentle things should be taken with you right now, and he would never do anything to harm you regardless of how much he wanted you both to talk. Heavy in his heart, the little princess knew it too.

That talk they shared that day, how instantly she caught the lie saying he was only your friend and that the only person she felt she could go to and be honest about how much losing you hurt was Jon? That wasn’t fair. Shireen didn’t deserve to find comfort only in what was essentially a stranger to her, and yet throughout her time there he always felt her curious eyes watching. Would sit on the steps and watch him train the others, the last connection to the only sister she lost, in him.

Just how much death and bloodshed weighed on your mind? How much of that death kept you from letting Jon go to you. That moment in his office, he wanted so desperately to tell you it all. That you were the one thing that could keep him here on earth, and that you both experienced a violence that none other would understand. Both had died, and both were brought back and Jon knew it was you who was his reason. Didn’t know how or why, but it was you. He wanted to tell you his new life would mean nothing if you weren’t in it, but he didn’t. Not right now.

An utter mess that brought you back to him, and Jon wanted to make it better. But there was only more violence approaching, the most urging one to come from his once home and the people who butchered his family. A violence that Jon knew he couldn’t stand back and ignore any longer.

Yet as a large figure came to lean against the railing beside him, it did strike Jon somewhat amusingly that so much of what started as a tempered, untrusting dynamic full of threats of death had turned into a trusting friendship. Tormund didn’t hold back his thoughts, and never pulled punches which truthfully Jon desperately needed in his life.

“They think you’re some kind of god.” Gesturing across the way to where many both his men and the free folk would find their gazes onto Jon with reverence. There was nothing he could do to stop it, but being looked at in such a way didn’t feel normal.

Grimacing a slight bit, Jon’s voice was low. “I don’t think a real god would hate being called one this much.” Tormund chuckled beside him as Jon felt a small one of his own slip as well. “I died, and somehow I came back, and no idea why or how. But that doesn’t make me a god, just makes me tired.”

Humming, the man looked at his friend with a curious gaze before relenting. “I can tell you, you only came back because your pretty crow brought you back.” Jon stiffened, his gloved hands gripping the railing a bit too tightly as his jaw clenched. “Can’t tell you why, but I do know she showed up and next thing we know you’re by her side a whole lot less dead then when she got here. Your crows all say she died too.”

His eyes slipped shut as he exhaled roughly, giving it away to Tormund instantly. Grey eyes opening to train harshly on the door he knew you were in, like a man possessed to always keep an eye on you. It was quiet for a moment, but he had been honest about you to him before he died and there was no reason to keep this as well.

Jon and Tormund both knew what they’d seen at Hardhome and dreams and visions were child's play to that. “I used to dream about her. With my brother, south fighting a war, I just kept seeing her and they all kept coming true. Until..I finally got back here and I dreamt about her dying in a pool of her own blood and when I woke up they told me she was dead, my brother was dead and everything they fought for.”

It made him sick, thinking that Robb’s last moments were forced to watch that. “Maybe they were trying to tell you to find her before it happened.”

He considered that, that he was seeing you as a way to try and make him to find you before what happened, happened but he couldn’t focus on that. It did, and then it happened to him too. “And now? What are they telling me to do now?”

Tormund leaned closer to him, voice more a too loud whisper. “For one, they’d probably say that the little crow is wasting his time trapping himself here in this shit hole instead of fighting for what he actually wants.”

Just as Jon opened his mouth, his eyes whipped over cross the way. Watching you leave your mother’s quarters with an exhausted look in your eye and much to Jon’s irritation, his cock stirred at the sight of you still wearing his fur cloak keeping you warm. All the worse as for the entire time his eyes followed your person, a dark smugness fell across his face when you relented, and made your way to Jon’s own quarters rather then yours.

Tormund however, leaned even closer with an amused grin behind his wild beard. “Also that if you don’t take her for yourself now that she’s here, someone else just may.”

Jon was torn between amusement and slight anger, but the grin on his companions face told him that was the intention anyways. Face falling flat he turned away to the yard again. “It’s not like that down here. You can’t just take what you want, especially if only one of you wants it.”

Shaking his head, Jon wondered how much the man was catching from his vauge words. A wonder of how much did he realize Jon was far less wanting of the red head then Tormund presumed. But something seemed to connect enough. “I’m not telling you to take her like some dog, little crow. I’m telling you if you can fight for what’s right, you can fight for her.” Tone shifting to more mocking and light, “Or maybe I’ll just have to show her how giant a Giantsbane is, if you’re going to leave her be.”

Now that was purposely just trying to rile Jon up, which absolutely worked. Pushing off the rails as he glared at the larger man, “She’s been through enough. Don’t push it.”

Tormund truly was trying to guide Jon into something, and then kept pushing him further into taking the bait. “I wonder, is all of you so small, crow? That why you’re letting her walk around your camp full of men all alone? Can’t compete?”

Nothing but amused as Jon leaned in, a sprinkle of jestful competition in his grey eyes to match. “Trust me, she knows first hand there’s more then enough of me for her to handle.”

“Then go remind her, before I show her better.”

The man knew just where to poke at the most possessive parts of Jon to rile him up over you, but later as Jon walked into the dark quiet of his quarters? That burning desire simmered down at the gentle sight of you asleep in his bed. He never really had that. Never risked falling asleep so freely in the other’s bed risk of someone finding you in that castle of many who burst into doors unannounced.

Left only in his breeches, Jon slowly slid in behind you. His heart heavy as he pulled the hair out of your face gently to the side. A hand running smoothly along your upper arm as he looked down at you before sliding it just under your breasts to tug your back into his chest.

And when you gave the smallest of slumbering sighs, and moved to fit better with his own arms already around you, Jon found no other explanation to why he was still here then to fight for what he loved, and that was undoubtedly including you.

It was a gamble, but one that you knew had to be taken. The longer you waited, the more time to rally forces the Bolton’s had and the risk of losing too many allies would grow. Having to choose a place to start and this felt like the closest to what could be an easy ally. You sat at your fathers desk, Theon across from you ink to the parchment and Davos to your side.

Your eyes on maps, Davos helping dictate the best course of words to display in such a strange pledge of cause. You had been leaning over, running along the marks you were making trying to plan around what would be the quickest and least obtrusive path. You were only a Stark in marriage, but you were trying to rise against the House that murdered their King. To deny such a plea from where you sat was going to be a fight for some you knew, but denying the whispers of what could be a lie about their dead Queen would be much harder if you stood at their gates. With whatever small numbers you even had at your side.

The door to your father’s quarters had been slightly open and the cold ran steadily over your minimal layers with nothing thick to protect from the wind. Footsteps trickled in, but more then one pair had done so in and out during the course of the day and you simply ignored it for the most part. Theon’s voice reading out parts as he wrote them in bits, “...from my beloved father-”

Your eyes whipped up Theon, brows slightly confused before narrowing in dismissal. “He wasn’t my beloved father. We were at war, he thought I was a traitor. I didn’t love him, he didn’t love me.”

None of the eyes passed judgment, certainly not the ones who had met the man but it was the understanding from Davos who tried to speak up. Beyond what he knew first hand was a truly broken relationship. “A harmless courtesy, your grace.”

Your face twisted almost innocently in incredulity, not looking up from the papers enough to catch faces but for them to see how casual yours felt. Easy dismissal on your lips before looking back down to the papers. “A lie. Take it out.”

Theon scratching at the words before continuing on, your mind focused on the best way to approach full well knowing those left may not be the ones you fought beside. The figure that entered watched silently, leaning against the wall at the sight, watching Theon continue on in what he knew would have to be rewritten anyways.

More scramblings, and more dictating what Theon and Ser Davos had come up with before you glanced up to them once more with a little less sharpness in your tone. “...Make sure it’s written as Lord Roose Bolton. Whatever he’s done, the man is still a Lord.”

A look shared between Ser Davos and the curiously silent watching Jon shared a tinge of amusement between them. Like looking at a younger, female vision of Stannis Baratheon it felt like sometimes with you. Proper, but not bothering with a fake courtesy that was not deserved. “We should send for House Manderly as well.”

Theon looking up with narrowed eyes, “Haven’t they declared for the Boltons?”

You nodded, without looking up still. Much was planning war and battle sent looking at papers and numbers until your eyes threatening to fall out was what you had forgotten was such an irritatingly large part of leading. “They have, but I’m suspicious of their loyalty. Lord Wyman has nothing to gain from siding with them and if we swing his support we cut off Roose’s access to their resources.” Pausing, you narrowed your eyes to nothing before adding, “Send for the Umber’s as well. Only half their men have sided with the Boltons, the rest might be willing to listen to us.”

Having worked hard to keep up with the workings of Northern houses, Ser Davos put for a suggestion that to be fair, neither man had any reason to think was a conflicted one. “The Karstark’s haven’t declared for them either we should reach out to them.”

Your hand paused moving in mid air, your eyes rising up in a palpable tension as you glanced to Ser Davos, only noticing then as you saw Jon lean against the wall some way behind Theon before you swallowed harshly before letting the steel grace back over you. “I didn’t exactly part ways with them on good terms. I’m not quite sure Harald Karstark will have it in his heart to forgive me just yet.”

No one asked, but they moved on and you ignored the ever present eyes of Jon watching you as debates ran back and forth over who to approach, and where to move to get there. Theon finally circling the discussions back around to where you had begun your plannings. “We need to start somewhere that we know we can win. We show up with what, the three of us and a maybe few guards if we’re lucky, and any house that would side with the Bolton’s will have us trapped before we get two words out.”

You looked over everything, and the few promising house would be harder to get to get to safely in such small numbers for what you were to ask. You knew one that would say yes, if your friendship with them was to still be trusted even after all this time, even if they were gone too. But it was getting there with so few of you was the stop.

Before you could hesitate to say it, Jon said it for you. “We should sail for Bear Island. Pledge House Mormont to our fight, and we already have a stronger ally then the Bolton’s have on their side.”

All eyes looking up to his sure and confident ones, your voice was the softest to speak. “Our fight?”

Sharing a glance with Ser Davos, an understanding was between them. A talk that seemed so long ago, but finally at least one man was going to be there to see it finally come to fruition. Jon met your own eyes after a moment, and you could only hope that the lightness in your heart wasn’t so childishly hopeful in your actual gaze towards him.

But he spoke true, and he spoke with the determination of someone who had clearly been spending a long time mulling over this choice. “I’m only lying to myself if I act as if I was brought back to keep shutting myself away here, where my fight doesn’t reach beyond these walls.” You felt heavy, and he needed to know if this was his choice but you saw a leader in those eyes. One that you hadn’t seen such a conviction in, in many before like him. “The North is my home. It’s part of me, and I need to be the one to fight for it.”

If Jon was going to do this, he needed to know and it needed to be now. Looking to Theon and Ser Davos your voice was restrained but a bit rough trying to keep calm. “Would you two give us a moment alone?”

Watching closely, you followed them to the door as Jon walked further inside. Theon only getting far enough for you to tell him to hold off of drafting the rest of the letters until you had everything finalized. But it was really, just one thing you needed to be sure of.

Gently closing the door, you stood staying faced to it with your heart racing. For two night’s now you had found yourself falling asleep in Jon’s bed, in his arms and neither of you had broached the topic beyond those quiet moments of peace in the dark. First morning he was up and gone before you, and this morning had been your turn to leave first.

It was a solace in this turmoil that you were petrified you were about to lose before even understanding what it meant. Looking back with a stilted expression, and something far away in your eyes you didn’t move any closer to him. Jon now looking over your own work, hands tapping at the desk before looking back up to you. “It’s not just me.”

Your face morphed into a confusion as he braced his palms over the top of your chair to elaborate, nodding out to the window. “Most of the free folk here came from Hardhome. Your father lent me his ships so I could sail with Tormund and bring them all here. Told them I’d allow them south of the wall and if they wanted, find them land to actually live on for themselves.”

Not for a second did you show any doubt or lack of understanding, it wouldn’t have been an easy decision but something in your once dreams of cold and ice had you pausing. Not just the goodness of his heart did such a thing come about.

“The North has never had an easy relationship with the free folk. But I knew leaving them beyond the wall to die would just be me acting like a coward.” There was something in a toned down anger in his face, in his voice no doubt from how much issue that choice brought him. But then it was haunting. A darkness so far away in Jon’s eyes that was of horrors beyond most peoples comprehension swirling inside them. “I’ve seen them.”

You knew what their fight here was turning into, but as you looked at him, your mind remembered a dream. One that started as a memory in the rainy woods of Winterfell and ended with a towering figure of freezing cold with eyes so blue they that of another world. The ice, the cries, the bodies spread out in pieces your nightmares were his reality.

“The first time I was beyond the wall. I saw a father take his infant son out into the woods, saw him leave him there in the snow..and..” Jon’s gaze flew back up to you as the dreams played behind your own eyes.

“You saw them take it. You saw one of them take the baby away.” Jon trying to ask how you knew but you were far ahead of that. “I saw it...or...I saw it through you...” Pacing forward you leaned against the wall to the side, something far and disturbed in your own eyes to match. “I used to dream about it, about the cold and ice..and I dreamt about something with blue eyes taking a crying baby away in the woods.”

It was a looming fear trying to understand what you had been seeing, but it wasn’t just a creature or a nightmare. It wasn’t the dead, it wasn’t a monster you made up. It was them. You had seen the Others because Jon had seen them and your blood ran as cold as those dreams did.

“Jon..what happened at Hardhome?”

You had dreamt of blue eyes beside a mass of standing corpses beside him in the captives of the Boltons. Jon pushed himself up, running a hand over his mouth as he circled around closer to you as he leaned back against the desk. “There were so many of them, not just the dead but..more of them then I ever thought. We got out what we could, a good amount of the free folk, but one of them looked right at me and just like that...every single one of the dead stood up beside them.” Your name slipped roughly from his lips, beckoning you to look up at him properly. “Whatever brought you and me back, this was nothing like that. When they find a way to get beyond the wall, and we aren’t ready for it-”

Your voice was barley audible were the room not so painfully silent, and Jon standing as close as he was. “If we can’t protect the North from each other, then we have no chance against them...” If the North couldn’t stand together then there was nothing to fight them back from the rest of the realm at all.

The quiet between you was thick and it was full of something more chilling then the mere wind out that door. “We start with the Mormonts. The free folk at our side should be enough to help us get there, and we start finding a way to unite the North again, together.” He was so sure of himself, and yet you were so instantly on edge.

He almost reached out to you, but the hesitation in your own eyes caught him. He murmured your name but you turned away. Running a hand over your forehead firmly before sighing out. Stood just in the middle of the room, your arms crossing over your chest almost protectively as there was a worry in your eyes.

“I...I don’t- fuck.” Fidgeting on the spot you struggled to find the words, this wasn’t how this was ever to play out that night you first heard Robb propose it. Your face fell almost like a plead, “I’m not saying this to manipulate you, or force you into anything I truly promise but you- I cannot let you do this blind. I know, and so does every lord we go to for this, and you shouldn’t find out from them.”

It made sense then, and still did now but you also knew part of planning for this included you being just as dead and gone as Robb as the likely scenario. You didn’t foresee yourself being the one to say it.

Whatever it was Jon was bracing himself for, you knew instantly by the stunned expression in his face, his guess was nowhere near this. “Robb named you as his heir to the North.” You felt your own heart race and the exponential fear of Jon hating you for this broke your calm trying to justify yourself. But if he hated you already, you weren’t sure anything would fix it. “The Lannisters were desperate, we won every battle we fought, we were winning the war and they knew they couldn’t beat us in the field. Tywin Lannister started making moves and we knew he was planning something, and Robb needed to name someone as his heir, to be King in the North after him in case...”

You looked away, trying not to see the blood and the fire. Your voice cracking before forcing it back to something you could swallow. “And he named you. He wanted it to be you.”

Once more, you were struggling to find anything in Jon you could read easily as he stood as still as a statue. His voice rough and quiet in disbelief, “But you were..”

Blood soaking his hand as he looked up to you, a broken expression you had never seen and it would be the last one ever. “Even if..it would have been eighteen years before he came of age regardless...but we also knew, we thought,” you corrected yourself, “If something happened to Robb, it would happen to me too. You were the first person he named, and out of every other option that came to mind Robb never trusted the North to anyone as much as he did you.”

Eyes a little less wide in shock, but he was still as a statue more. Whatever he thought he felt hearing Stannis Baratheon offering him a true name and lordship was nothing compared to the brother who had everything he ever wanted, leaving the most important thing trusted in no one but Jon’s own hands. “Did...who agreed to it?”

You almost could smile in a cruel pain, “Only Catelyn had an issue with it. But when Robb told her, every other Lord had signed off on it already. He only asked for her support as a courtesy..but not a single person in that meeting protested. Because Robb was right and they all knew it.” You found his eyes and hoped that it wasn’t just another knife in his chest you were adding, “Robb made it perfectly clear, he knew you deserved everything he had. Because you were his brother. Because Stark or Snow..Ned Stark had four sons. Not three.”

You couldn’t be in here anymore, you couldn’t see the conflict on Jon’s face so drastically you couldn’t stand here and talk about Robb or the son that never came, or how you just wished Jon didn’t hate you for shoving this at him. “You needed to know, before you left. Because the first place we go, they are all going to know exactly who you are and..it would be a lot harder to turn around and leave at that point. You needed to know what you are agreeing too if you do.”

One last look at him, and his grey eyes were begging you for something but you both were in too much complicated of a mess to know what that was, or for him to just ask for what he needed. Your name slipped so, so gently from his lips but you shook your head.

Debating grabbing something warm, but it was your fathers coat next to Jon’s own fur cloak and you decided to just let the cold slam into your skin as you brushed a hand over the door handle. “I’m sorry. I’m...It wasn’t...I’m not trying to trick you into something you don’t want but in my defence,” Looking back at him you tried not to think too much about how Jon was almost trying to look at the scar under your clothes as you spoke. “I thought I’d be long dead by the time you found out. So at least I wouldn’t have to see first hand how much I just continue to ruin your life.”

You think Jon may have called to you, but you had walked out the door and made your way as far as possible. You just needed to be away from him. You’d have to leave soon, army at your side or just a fair few brave souls stupid enough to follow a leaderless cause. Making the same choice as those years ago, leaving Jon behind for the Night’s Watch as you left for something which would inevitably turn into a war.

Night approaching on Castle Black was when you were found. Finding a place away from most for just a while in silence before any could come to you with just one more thing to add onto the weight of your shoulders. Sitting up on a crate, one of your feet was resting up on a small clearing of firewood as the other hung off the crate free.

The wind was cold, and your bones even colder from how long you had been outside like this but ever since arriving here you hadn’t felt anything close to yourself, at least in captivity you had a reason for being so out of your own mind. Here though it was simply a barrage of mistakes or failures on your part that had you losing your sense of self.

At least when there was no one around, it didn’t matter how exhausted or lost you looked. You could sit and contemplate the place in life you found yourself in with disappointing ease. Fingers peeling the meat one small bit at a time from it’s skewer as you let the toughness occupy yourself with how much was needed to chew. Nothing special, but in that moment you cared not for what it tasted like as long as it kept you from passing out as soon as you stood up.

Only, not quite all of it, it seemed was to make it down to your mouth. Hearing nothing right up until a whine already was right beside you, you whipped around in place only to settle instantly. Ghost stood tall even on all fours, almost matching your elevated seating enough to where you felt the food over your lap. Red eyes looking to you and then the meat, you could almost see the little smile in his huff towards you.

Brows raised amusingly as you slowly pulled off a piece. “I see how this is, I finally decide I want something to eat of my own accord and here you are demanding I share.” Not wasting any time teasing the direwolf you held out a piece between two fingers as Ghost sniffed before ever so gently grabbing it himself. Just as you finished chewing your own, he stepped forward more. Eyes just as patiently waiting with excitement.

Chuckling, you pulled off two more small pieces, tossing them into your mouth before making a pile in your hand with the rest. Not having the chance to put them anywhere, Ghost simply bumbled into you and ducked his head into your lap to eat right from your hand. That smile felt genuine on your face, and you weren’t sure how long it had been since you felt a true one. Your free hand begun to run over his fur, occasionally scratching your nails along his scalp.

Finishing off your food, Ghost let another huff out before resting his head right in your lap. Eyes closing at the feeling of your nails and now too heavy to get up without the direwolf moving first. Your eyes simply stayed trained on him, watching his red eyes slowly dip the more relaxed you made him and yet you know this was a beast many feared.

You think you sat there with him for as long as you had alone, at least until his ears perked up. Moving his head off you to look to the approaching figure, and sinking back down to rest in your lap when it was only your mother. Standing quite a few feet away she eyes it with distrust, but you only shrugged a shoulder and ran a hand back over his white fur. “It’s alright, he would’ve been more aggressive if you couldn’t come near him.”

Carefully approaching, she made a wide path with narrowed eyes around the direwolf before gently sitting on the crate next to you. Albeit with far more grace then you had the energy to put off. Watching you run your hand lovingly along the giant wolf’s fur before breaking the silence. “How did you get it to trust you?”

Not looking at her, you smiled at the once more drooping eyelids of Ghost. “I knew him back when he was a pup. He likely just remembers my face. That and I offered him food.”

Neither of you rushing the conversation, Selyse simply sat quiet next to you for a while. Your relationship with your mother was as strained as it was complicated. She just as your father had, declared you nothing but a traitor with such callousness. But now he was gone, and Shireen was gone so all was left was the both of you. Two women who had not seen one another in over six years, since even before you returned to King’s Landing with Ned Stark.

When you did, it was all visits for Shireen. Most of your days on Dragonstone were out in the islands terrain together, trudging through the sun so you could show her all the places you found on your own as a child. Simply put, there was not much to say between you two at most times.

In Winterfell it was Catelyn Stark who saw fit to treat you as a daughter and it was that mother which followed you and Robb into war. A mother who died for that war. Instead you found a reunion with this woman and she was as strange to you as the father you met that one day in the fields of the south.

You couldn’t talk to her about Shireen anymore, telling her you would not hear it you couldn’t handle any of this religious fanaticism when you had to be the one to end her. What was left was only you two, but you didn’t want to turn her away entirely. Without you there was little left for her, and you dared not think what her life might be like so alone.

You already knew that was utterly painful.

“Your father saw something in him.” Your eyes flickered up, but you moved none else to show you heard her. “Spent much of his time here learning from him, as he learned from your father. I thought at first he saw him as the son I never gave him. But now I’m not so sure.”

You let your eyes drift to the ground to find a meaningless spot on it. “I didn’t imagine he offered him Winterfell for nothing.”

Selyse sighed, neither of you were making this easy but she wasn’t sure if it was you, her, or the habits passed from your father to blame for how awfully you all communicated. Unsure if it was worth trying to find a happy medium here or if she should just cut tight to the point.

“I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you.”

Your eyes flickering shut as you sighed deeply. Turning your head away from her with a grumble, “Mother.” Your tone in a stern warning, but you knew she would press on anyways.

Which she did, ignoring your protests entirely. “You can pretend the truth is otherwise all you like, but I have seen it. I also know, that he was prepared to leave everything behind here the moment he learned you were alive and ever since you brought him back he looks at you like he would have no idea what to do with himself if you leave again.”

You bit your tongue, shaking your head as you willed your breathing to settle a bit. “I would say he looks like a man who has had everything turned upside down since I came back into his life.” Ghost huffed in your lap as you almost ran your hand over his soft fur as a crutch. “And the second I leave he can go back to the life he was building for himself again.”

Her tone was as stern as yours could be, “How many times do you think there is a second chance at love, how many women even get a first chance and you are throwing away your-”

“Robb was my second chance.” Looking over at her, there was a mix of anger and a sorrow that had never gone away. But for once, you were pure and honest and it was the first person you so freely said it to and it was your mother of all people. “I loved Jon first. For a long time, then I got married. Jon left for here and we knew we’d never see each other again. And I fell in love with Robb. He was my second chance, he was the life I was to make after losing the first. And now I’m here. Back in Jon’s life as if he had any reason to want to help me beyond obligation. He shouldn’t want anything to do with me, and maybe Robb hates me for wishing it was otherwise.”

Your mother never met him, only heard through the whispers of a war and yet the way you spoke about him was with such a defeated sorrow. Difficult to imagine what it was like all that time with the Boltons when you lost so drastically. But she had met this one, had seen the way Stannis had admired something in Jon Snow and how you both stood here together after finding sure death.

“Plans the lord has for us go beyond the normal realms of a sacred vow.” Turning to look at her you tried so hard not to say a word about this belief of hers. But the look in her eye was serious, full of a true conviction. “Through everything that has happened, he brought you and this boy back from death so you could find each other again. Trust in him that it means something.”

You cared not for her god, not for it’s strange way of doctrine, not for the fire that demanded sacrifice and blood, and not for how it was brought to your family by the woman who strung your sister up on a pyre to burn. “Why would this god of yours care for two people who don’t even believe in him?”

Leaning in, her face narrowed trying to plead to a destiny just as the red woman spoke of, just as your father always spoke that you had no choice in and you hated all of it. “Perhaps your fate with this boy is important enough the Lord can see passed such an offence. Your father is the chosen and you without any belief in the lord still think he is out there. Still leaving to unite these people for a war you didn’t even know of until finding him.”

Ghost rose his head up, suddenly rising up on a dime, as he tilted his head towards you in a eeiry silence. Leaving you to lean forward out of her sight in your sides covering your mouth with hands clasped together.

“You are meant to fight by your father’s side. Come to him in the great war, only perhaps the Great Wolf she spoke of was this one. The one that is still here, the one that you brought back.” Your eyes once more flickered to Ghost before sighing.

Both of you were quiet for a moment before you muttered, “We leave in a few days, if you are sure you want to follow you should start packing now. Have Olly gather Father and Shireen’s things as well.”

Ghost had been sternly silent, until suddenly moving forward coming to Jon’s side as he approached the pair of you. Only a matter of time before it all fell apart between you two and now was that time. “Pardon, my lady but if I could have a moment alone with your daughter?”

Nodding without issue, you both stood as she gave you one last look. One of a mother you knew was telling you to just listen to her for once before parting ways. The silence between you and Jon was painful, at least to you. “How did you know where I was?” Jon’s head tilting towards Ghost as you narrowed your eyes the slightest with a whispered, “Traitor.”

Coming closer towards you, there was no tension in his stance or face that you expected from the man, instead it all sat on your shoulders. All plastered on how much you were keeping a stone walled expression that for so long was never, could never be directed towards him. But now you were afraid to let anything else slip passed.

Looking you over with an amused glint in his eye, “At least I know it’s not just you whose bad at dressing for the cold.” You only shrugged a shoulder, glancing away from him before he found more reason to fill the silence. “Come with me, I have something for you.”

Narrowing your eyes, Jon only turned to the side, beckoning you again to follow. Doing so quietly, and a few more feet away from him then what looked natural. Paths moved out of the way for you both when passing by with watchful eyes that never seemed to go away anymore. For you or him.

Coming back to his own quarters, he guided you in first as he held the door open for you. Noticing to yourself that certain things seemed to be moved around, or at least it appeared that way as it looked emptier then before. But it was where the bed was that laid a few things, leathers, gloves, all in dyes of black.

Jon kept himself a few feet behind you as you looked it over. “I couldn’t let you leave in just those. They aren’t perfect, what I could get from the Night’s Watch own supply but they should fit well enough.” A look over your shoulder your face a little softer, and finding nothing but his own genuine concern on his own. “You should try them on before you leave.”

Turning back, your heart felt a bit faster in pace but your mind also told there there was little point in hiding. At this point more then you’d ever care too had seen beneath it all. The room was deathly silent as you slowly took things off. Back facing him you knew he could see lashes fading across your spine and a distinct scar he knew was from an arrow that had not healed but just sat dormant like certain others. One also on your upper arm that matched the imprint from that night.

At least turned away from Jon, he couldn’t see the occasional wince that crossed your face. Not much hurt to the same degree, but the muscles within not without their soreness sometimes. Hard to forget you truly hadn’t been away from the Bolton’s long enough for the worst of it to go away.

The leathers were warmer then anything you’d worn in the past year, making you wonder just how much of you being used to the cold was simple over exposure. Neither of you spoke a word despite knowing Jon’s eyes watching you the entire time, only when you gently sat on the edge of the bed did Jon come forward, kneeling down in front of you. “Let me.”

Even behind the gloves you could feel such a gentle touch, making sure the much sturdier boots fit and lacing them up without thinking of it. “You didn’t have to do any of this.”

He didn’t look up, focused on the task at hand as his voice rasped out, “I know.” Your fingers flexing into your fists as a lightness shivered over your spine. He always was like this, doing small things for you, getting things for you simply because you needed them and he wanted to do it. Finally meeting your eyes again asking, “Everything feel okay?” When you nodded he stood up abruptly, “Good. I have one more thing for you.”

Eyes slipping closed with a sigh, you stood with a dejected tone almost in warning, “Jon.”

It was a proper sword and sheath he returned with. Nothing flashy, just simple black and an average hilt. Taking it gently from him, he explained as you pulled it out slightly to look at the blade. “It isn’t anything special, but I had adjusted to fit your size.” Your eyes had narrowed, containing the feeling that this had the distinct markings of newly forged. “Assuming you haven’t forgotten how to swing one.”

For the first time, you glanced up at his grey eyes with a slight smirk before lingering too long. “I remember a thing or two.” His hand reached to take it back, unexpectedly moving close enough you could feel the ends of his hair, as he moved behind you.

Strapping the entire thing properly to your person, no doubt Jon could hear the hitch in your breathe at the close proximity. Ensuring it was snug enough before so lightly he rested his hands on your forearms before sliding up to just below your shoulder. Rasping deep into your ear, “I had Theon prepare everything to be sent out when you’re ready. Had to make a few changes first, myself.”

He didn’t let you turn to face him, but you also picked out that he likely knew you’d try to walk away from him the moment he did. “Why?”

Another shiver ran down, but this time not at the husk in his tone but the sureness in words. “Didn’t want any of them to think they were about to be raided by an army of wildlings when they all show up with us.”

“Us?”

Jon turned you himself, but kept you in his hold. Things between you were delicate but so much of that strained state came from your nerves alone. “The North is our home. All of it. And I’m not going to let you walk away from me again to fight a war all by yourself.”

Tilting your head a bit with a narrowed gaze you looked with a hesitation, “Jon if this is only because-”

“It’s not.” He no doubt, felt the shiver that crossed your skin as one of his hands gently traced up your shoulder to gently run across the hair at the back of your head as he leaned in. Enough you could feel his breathe along your skin, but never pushed further. “I spent my whole life watching Robb get everything I ever wanted, and I spent my whole life wishing I could hate him for him. Then I watched him marry the one thing that was mine and mine alone for years, and I still never could hate him.”

It was a moment just like this, as Jon told you not to look for him during the wedding. That he wanted you to be okay with becoming Robb’s, and yet years and loss later for all of you it was you both back in such a similar position once more talking about Robb.

Only you were both older, one of you much more broken and the other strong and full of what makes a true leader. And this time, you already were Robb’s and this time you also knew too well what you were missing by pushing Jon away.

Your voice but a whisper, “He,” You swallowed as your eyes slid shut in a flicker before collecting your thoughts, trying not to think of the hand ever so slowly raking through your hair. “Robb regretted not being there for you more. Wishing he stood up for you more, stepped in between you and his mother more..but this wasn’t..He wasn’t trying to prove anything with this. He just wanted to give you the one thing he knew you never would’ve thought you deserved, because he knew you truly did.”

Much like the night of the feast as well, Jon watched your hands come close to resting gently on his person and painfully hold back. “How about we start with fighting to get our home back.”

That you could agree on, that was something you could focus on. Once more however, a small smirk slid onto your face catching his curious eyes. “I’m not sure anything has quite felt like home in a long time. It may be nice to finally find one for once.”

The wall somehow felt even windier in the sunlight. Your backs both against the edges of the opening looking out to the vast forest and snowy mountains fading into the far North. He wasn’t quite sure what to do, but you gave each offer it’s fair strengths and drawbacks. Theon’s choice to follow was simple, you or risk returning to Pyke and only one of them had a promise of someone to trust still at his back and defence.

Olly was a bit different. He was pledged here, but circumstances were different. Not here by force, but simply beacuse his only home was taken from him so suddenly and violently. He was finding his stride previously as Jon’s steward but since that day, he had found a strange fearful trust in yourself. You in a way seemed to scare him, your stern intensity but also there was a softer spot that he had seen in your fathers quarters. He had followed you and your every order since that point and now that you were preparing to leave in a number of days he felt conflicted about staying behind.

None had spoken of his involvement of that night, and it only confirmed your initial suspicions that he was very much manipulated into it by Thorne. None felt the need to throw him to your mercy or to Jon’s, likely as the rest found shame and guilt in their own actions knowing it was too their fault for letting a child become entangled in the crime.

Looking back to you, he clearly was fighting to find the right words. Knowing you watched out to the north with nothing but patience for him to find it. “He wouldn’t want me around.”

A small smile came to you, rolling your head back with an eyebrow raised and a gentle tone that he continued to find some comfort in. “He’s left your situation in my hands. Hasn’t even said a word about what I’ve chosen to do with you, and he continues to be here with ten other men who are far more guilty then you.”

It was a mix of what he did, and seeing Jon come back. He looked to you with a fear in ways, but it was stronger towards him. Crossing his arms behind his back as he dropped his head, you watched calmly without any prompt. You couldn’t choose this for him, it was a weight he was to bare the rest of his life and none could dictate how he would cope with it. At this age, anything was possible.

“What would I do if I stayed?”

Eyes flickering to the side in thought before finding his once more, one shoulder moving in a slight shrug. “Serve whoever runs this place all the same, learn and grow from being under their leadership and find a purpose the way you tried to before any of this happened. One action shouldn’t dictate the rest of your life.”

He narrowed his brows, looking back down to his feet in thought. Your voice speaking up once more before it got too far, “Olly, it’s not just him to consider. When we leave, the free folk are coming with us, fighting with us. There’s no escaping that if you come with me. I’m not telling you to get over that pain, but I am asking you to consider if you’re ready to let your anger sit aside yet.”

That got him, his eyes flying out to the other side of the high walls even though little could be seen from where you both stood. You could still so vividly see what he had told you of that day. Of the horrible numb feeling seeing an arrow fly into his father’s neck, how he crumpled to the ground without his face even shifting. And the memory of his mother shaking him by the arms telling him to hide before they were overrun and she was utterly slaughtered.

How two men snatched him, hissing in his ear about how they were going to eat them and to run to Castle Black before they did it to him as well. You wouldn’t get over that so quickly either, but you also had the advantage of age. You could shove that into a box and hide it under the earth beacuse you could look out now to the North and see the crystal blue eyes that haunted your dreams. Olly hadn’t see any of that, himself or in dreams and visions. It was harder to see.

He sighed deeply. Looking back to you with almost a sad hope. “When you take Winterfell, what happens then?”

It hurt, seeing such a young, innocent face so torn from his bias, to his actions, to the pain that would never go away. The way Olly was so horrified by the truth of his actions, that he burst into tears trying to confess. The weight that you knew was horrible and burning in your mind and it came to him after only just finding his way into teenage hood.

You were quiet, trying yourself not to put too much hope into the blood and battle you were eventually to walk into. “Some will begin finding land to settle into, ones that would be safer away from the fights to come, some will likely stay at our side and others will go to wherever our plans then take us. But there is no hiding from them, Olly. They’re here now, and one way or another you will have to find a way to handle that.”

Waiting a beat, you had one idea he way be able to live with. Stepping closer, you knelt down a bit in front of him. Once more, Olly seemed to find it a bit easier to look you in the eye when not forced to look up at you in fear. “You can either come with me when we leave, stay here at the Night’s Watch. Or...” You drew out the first few syllables of the next word trying to be sure and phrase it to the boy with hope. “..when we reclaim Winterfell, you can make your way there. I’ve made it clear to the men here that you are with me, and considering your age and why you even came here.”

More hope was in his eyes at that. Clearly being left behind here wasn’t an easy choice for him, and you tried hard not to think about how you leaving seemed to feel like being abandoned to Olly. You also forced yourself to not even slightly consider the implications of why.

“You promise they won’t catch me as a deserter if I do?”

Forcing a small smile onto your lips, you raised your eyebrows playfully. “I can write you up a pretty, formal deceleration if it makes you feel better.” He huffed out a laugh at that. While you didn’t tell him before you left, you made your way into his room and left two papers. One with just that, a promise from the Queen in the North of his assurance to travel from Castle Black to Winterfell, and another smaller note scrawled out much more personally and a tad playfully, saying just in case he thought he would need it.

It wouldn’t be for a few more days that you would leave, but being totally alone now made the most sense. And when Olly hugged you tight, it was harder and harder to deny that perhaps that admiration Theon was speaking of, was just a conflicted, hurt boy finding the only solace he could, in a woman who reminded him of the mother he lost.

The Sun was up still shining a gold in the sky, as three figures stood at the railings watching over the growing black in the skyline. Only years ago, this same image looked out over a war for the North, only this time the wolf next to you was the one which was missing last, his own person darker in heart, and a strange one that beat despite the very wounds in is chest to stop it.

And yours lay untouched but under the mutilation of something that left you to bleed out in agony but both knew they would not be in a living soul once more were it not for the other. You didn’t understand any of it, and neither did Jon. But it was a truth that you couldn’t ignore. You both had been dead, and both would be things that would no longer be able to be ignored.

The Northmen knew of your death, and the Free Folk of Jons and once those whispers converged, there was no telling what was to be in store for that, or for the blood inevitably to follow.

As the three of you watched the Ravens leave, a final decision that sealed what was to be walked in on, and what was to come of the enemy you were to fight. It was Theon to the right who looked at you. An underlying waver in his own voice as he watched the far away one in yours that both men beside you could feel radiating with it’s own fear. “Are you afraid to see him again?”

Your hands on the railing tightened as Jon’s eyes darkened at the sights and sounds of what he had seen all over you, and the vile things he had Theon tell of what else had been done to you. You could fight a war against Roose Bolton, but fighting one against Ramsay was truly what Jon knew would turn violent. Your war against Roose was for the North and for Robb, but to Jon, the war against Ramsay was for you.

All your response could muster as your eyes stayed trained on the distant ravens was a single nod. A nod that had Theon lean forward more against the rails. “Good.”

Both looked at you but you looked at none. “Why is that good?”

You knew why. Theon had endured as you did, and he was the one who dragged you from that hell out and running into the cold and the freezing waters to escape before his torment ended your life, at his hands or your own. And now, you were going back. Numbers at your side, a hope for more to join, and a wolf that Theon could see, would shed as much blood as he could to protect you. But still, all that horror and you would be going right back to face him. And Theon’s answer was as blunt as it was honest about why.

“It means you’re not stupid.”

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

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atopvisenyashill · 8 months

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do u remember the characters who were complimented the most by their beauty in the books?

off the top of my head (and keeping in mind i’m still on asos and haven’t reread feastdance at least since the show ended so like 3-4 years) characters who get complimented most often for beauty are -

cersei

sansa

dany

margaery

jaime (not joking, he doesn’t get called handsome, he gets called beautiful. think more brad pitt and less george clooney)

joffrey (similar to jaime, altho tbf most of the comments on his beauty come from sansa)

loras

characters who are less complimented mostly due to them not being in every book but still notable beauties include-

arianne

catelyn & lysa - i’m like 80% sure people comment on lysa being beautiful when she’s younger & less so now, but don’t quote me there. i know people comment on cat being hot af when she’s younger, and multiple people remark on her hair so she clearly still Has It, she’s just not in a position where men are throwing themselves at her feet in the series given, ya kno, the war

melisandre

roslin frey

margaery’s lady’s court - her girls, taena, and alerie are all described at some point or another as being beautiful

taena of myr - wanted to mention her specifically, people tend to think of her as striking

val the wildling

ygritte the wildling - notable that this is incredibly conditional bc jon only starts referring to her as beautiful after they start sleeping together BUT the wildlings consider her beautiful bc of her hair

rohanne webber

characters noted to be beautiful by people who are clearly fishing for a compliment to pay her (aka, She Is Beautiful To Me, I Understand Her)-

jeyne westerling - i want to add her bc you have cat, robb, and jaime all acknowledge she’s “pretty enough” but are won over by her after talking to her, which probably speaks more to how she carries herself than her actual looks. but as a westerling stan, it’s notable To Me haha

brienne - i need to include this bc the “she could almost be a lady she could almost be a knight” is one of my favorite lines in the series, it makes me crazy and i think any post about beauty that doesn’t include brienne isn’t complete. that brienne gets the “brienne the beauty” moniker bc she’s ugly even as jaime keeps thinking about how she’s beautiful in some way or another is, imo, notable in how george sees & defines beauty (very much in the eye of the beholder, and that love can make you search for beauty in someone who is objectively not beautiful according to The Societal Standards)

arya - ned compares her to lyanna (and obviously ned isn’t gonna tell his daughter “you’re an uggo my sister was hot as fuck tho”) & gendry & edric both get a lil flustered over her

ellaria sand - noted that she’s not strictly beautiful but “something draws the eye” which seems like jeyne it’s about how she carries herself than her actual looks

jeyne poole - i mean. lots of comments about how she’s pretty ish and they’re clearly meant cruelly, almost as a way of tormenting her (no fancy last name, no wolf’s blood, not even pretty enough to get someone to rescue her)

pre-asoiaf mentioned in the main series for their beauty include-

lyanna stark

ashara dayne

missy blackwood

barba bracken

rhaegar targaryen

and pre-asoiaf characters noted to be beautiful in twoiaf or f&b-

rhaenys targaryen (the conqueror)

nymeria of ny sar

rhaena the lesbian

alyssa velaryon

jocelyn baratheon

viserra targaryen

rhaenys velaryon

rhaenyra targaryen - notable that she’s considered beautiful as a child but less so as an adult (bc westeros is full of fucking weirdos)

helaena targaryen - described as being more beautiful than alicent and that’s really it

daenaera velaryon - ditto on westeros being full of weirdos lol

jaehaera targaryen - again. she is like 12 when she dies but half the realm is commenting on this beautiful child. i hate these people so much.

baela targaryen

lady sam hightower

something that’s notable is that george makes a continued distinction between “pretty” and beautiful - alysanne targaryen is considered pretty but not beautiful, for example. so there’s people like jeyne westerling who are “pretty enough” as in, not ugly, not plain, but not, as jaime puts it “beautiful enough to lose a kingdom over” as in they are drop dead, model, helen of troy type gorgeous.

that’s also why i wanted to include the “fishing for compliments” type girls bc these women are very aware that they’re not pretty enough and often wind up carrying themselves differently as a response to this - if they can’t be gorgeous they’ll be so disarming, so striking, that people will spin back around to beautiful. ygritte is the biggest example of this imo because how jon perceives her beauty is very tied to how his relationship with her develops - he purposefully conflates her beauty with her violence bc he wants to find her violence beautiful bc that would make his life infinitely easier, and after she dies he’s very clear headed that she isn’t that pretty but she is TO HIM, she is beautiful in his memory because of his feelings for her. it makes him very wary of melisandre & val as a result - because he conflates beauty and violence in ygritte, it makes him wary of other harsh & beautiful women. or take lyanna, who is remembered often as being beautiful yet in ned’s memory, this beauty is part of what dooms her and he is outwardly hostile whenever people mention her beauty - to ned, that beauty brought only horror so he doesn’t dwell on it.

there’s lots of commentary here on what “beautiful” actually means from person to person, so while i would say the first group are more objectively beautiful, it’s also important to think about context - who is thinking they’re beautiful, why they’re thinking this, and what their relationship is.

#i did a search to double check this but my memory was mostly correct from what i checked #valyrianscrolls #asks #getting on my soap box

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etoeilles · 11 days

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Rewatching Game of Thrones currently and melted at the thought of joining Ellie at the watch where she feels the need to protect you and finds herself teaching you how to wield a sword even though you were both assigned as stewards. I have another series being written as we speak but i need ur help to decide which to post first?

Brief info:

Faster Getting Nowhere: skater Ellie - best friends with you sister who wants nothing to do with u (all in your early 20s)- they’re in a promising crew and you want to join - loosely inspired by Lords of Dogtown (2005) - Betty (2020-2021) - A League of Their Own (1992).

Life and Honor: ranger Ellie - ranger reader - basically Jon and Sam’s storyline with necessary readjustments - fighting white walkers, wildlings, evil men, etc. Ellie sends her wolf after a man who threatened to hurt you - Ellie is a bastard/stark/targaryen - reader is a handmaiden/tyrell.

#ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader

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basalamander-corner · 5 months

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❦ - The Shifting Tides: NEW WIP INTRO

We fight for a future we ourselves cannot see.

❝ Blood spills at the drop of a hat. Lives are taken every day. It’s up to you to decide whether or not you want to fight, or be devoured. ❞

Cursed by the blood of a goddess, Saran Turakina has known a life of being less-than-human. His people are holindal, once regular humans now given the ability to shapeshift into draconic forms. To improve relationships with the Kingdom of Askana, Saran’s grandfather has arranged a marriage with their prince. While on a seaward journey to meet his future husband, Saran’s boat is intercepted by pirates, and he’s taken prisoner for a ransom.

On a ship far from home, and with only his two closest friends for company, Saran is forced to come face to face with the pirate king: Viridian Kambiri, captain of the Howling Wolf and charming leader of the Wildlings.

As Saran traverses the maze of secrets and betrayals that fester beneath Askana, it doesn’t take him to realize there’s more to the oppression and hatred towards the holindal diaspora than the monarchy is letting onto. And the secrets they hide is one he must bring to the light. But if violence is the only way of stopping them, then does that not make Saran a murderer, like them?

And if so, how will he stop them without losing his soul in the process?

More info below the cut.

❧General Information

A series that has been on my mind for at least five years. The current version of this draft started in 2020 during COVID, although I’ve had this idea in mind since early 2018 at least. It’s currently taken some inspiration from We Hunt the Flame, The Tiger at Midnight, and Beasts of Prey, although it has evolved into its own story at this point.

I consider it somewhere between Young Adult and New Adult in terms of ratings: most content is aimed towards a 16+ audience. I consider the genre a low/mid-fantasy romance. There’s a bit of extensive worldbuilding, but canonically the series takes place in an alternate universe where the meteor that killed the dinosaurs ended up being imbued in magic. Said magic spread through the earth, and is what eventually caused the holindal mutation. In addition, this Earth has a ring system of a similar intensity to Neptune, caused by the colliding of Theia. If I have to describe the aesthetic, it is an Afro-Victorian world on the cusp of its own industrial revolution.

❧Featuring

The tropes of idiots to friends to lovers, found family, secret royalty.

Themes of coming of age, trauma recovery, rebellion and war, self-discovery, sins of the father, and the deconstruction of “if you kill them, you’ll be just like them”.

A transmasculine and vincian MC. A bisexual MC. A queerplatonic relationship between three major characters, one of the MCs included. An aro/ace major character.

A cast made up of entirely dark-skinned characters.

❧Trigger Warnings

Typical fantasy violence

Blood and gore

Childhood abuse

Physical and mental abuse/trauma

Panic and anxiety attacks

Queerphobia

Racism and xenophobia

Sexism

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what-do-1000-swords-look-like · 2 years

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I am getting back into my Jonsa feels, man. Hardcore.

In the very same episode that Dany saves Jon beyond The Wall and he bends the knee you have these back to back sequences:

1) Jon & Jorah:

youtube

Here, the convo starts where Jon talks about serving with Jorah's father. He then offers Longclaw back to Jorah, who politely declines and offers the sword back to Jon, telling him "May it serve you well. And your children after you."

Important things to note:

"Were you with him at the end?" "I was a prisoner of the Wildlings." - interesting turn of phrase there Jon (makes me think of 8x05-8x06 btw) -- "I hate that he died that way." (again, this makes me think of 8x06)

"My father was the most honorable man I ever met. He was good all the way through. And then he died on the executioner's block." "Your father wanted to execute me." "I heard." (this makes me think of Dany telling Jon the same thing about Ned in 7x03)

"He changed the pommel from a bear to a wolf but it's still Longclaw." -- this is part of a subtle setup for the Targaryen reveal imho, but also showing us that regardless, he's still the same man he was before he knew that info or ever went to Dragonstone -> which is proven by the next thing Jon says: "Lord Commander Mormont never thought you would come back to Westeros. But you did come back. It's been in your family for centuries. It's only right for you to have it." (this makes me think of Dany and her birthright, no one thought she'd come to Westeros even after they heard she was alive and amassing strength across the sea & then it makes me think of Jon's claim to the IT and "I told you. I don't want it" that he says to Dany in 8x04 vs Dany's "I was born to rule" said to Jon in 7x03)

"He gave it to you." "I'm not his son." "I shamed my house. I broke my father's heart. I forfeited the right to claim this sword." -> while this isn't an exact word-for-word about Dany (especially since she doesn't technically shame her house or break her father's heart though she definitely took it further than Aegon or Aerys ever did), especially with how Jon's story in the series ends, it still can be linked to that whole rival claim to the IT scenario between her and Jon & even minutely to Jon's bending the knee & giving the North away - either way, the really important theme here is family, Targaryen, Stark, Mormont, etc. Jon is being given a family heirloom, a legacy, that he feels he didn't earn and has no right to, but is being entrusted with it. Sounds familiar to what he will give up in the end of the episode, doesn't it?

And that comes into play with the next part, where Jorah then tells Jon to keep it and mentions the children. Something Jorah absolutely does not need to mention here. He could have left it at "May it serve you well" but they purposely threw in this extra line. Because then they show us how Jon reacts to it. And what do we get? A deep breath, as if he feels the very weight of the decision he has to make. You know where else we see that deep breath?

Later on in the same episode, after he's bent the knee and Dany has left his room. This isn't something he wanted to do, but the line Jorah said is driven home. There won't be any children in the future (his or anyone else's) if the Night King is not defeated. And after he saw Dany and her dragons in action, he made the difficult decision to give her what she wanted so he could get her, her two remaining dragons, and her armies up North. And while they are missing Viserion in this equation now, Jaime said it himself in 7x05: "We've seen what one dragon can do. Imagine three." And we indeed see the dent Drogon and Rhaegal make in 8x03 as well as the destruction Drogon alone causes in 8x05. This scene in 7x06 may have read that Jon realizes he is starting to have feelings for her but that is not why he bent the knee. Nor is it because he feels guilty over Viserion. He wasn't responsible for himself being Beyond the Wall; Dany herself was. Which is why, besides her obvious feelings for him, she flies to save him.

2) Sansa & Arya:

youtube

The very next scene is at Winterfell, Arya standing on the scaffold and watching the courtyard below as it snows, reminiscing. Sansa joins her and Arya begins to tell her of a memory of Ned clapping for her as she discreetly shot arrows with Bran's bow. I often wondered why Arya chose this particular memory to regale Sansa with besides the obvious mention of Ned (and the upcoming banding together to kill Littlefinger & "the pack survives" moment) & how it relates to the Robb scroll. But now it makes sense.

"Father used to watch us from up here. He wouldn't say much. You probably don't remember. You were inside knitting at the time." "I remember." -- The chasm between Arya and Sansa is at its greatest length, worse than when they were younger and used to fight. They don't know who the other is at this moment, and after all they have been through on their own separate journeys, they're not sure they can trust each other. Arya is sus that Sansa is the same ol' Sansa while Sansa is not sure she can trust Arya to not put her in danger. (this is brought home by the lines "Anger makes people do unfortunate things." "Fear makes people do unfortunate things." - because it shows clearly what the motivating emotion is for each sister in this particular episode)

"Finally, I hit the bullseye. It could've been the twentieth shot or the fiftieth, I don't remember. But I hit the bullseye. And I heard this." *slow claps* "I looked up and he's standing right here, smiling down at me. I knew what I was doing was against the rules. But he was smiling, so, I knew it wasn't wrong. The rules were wrong. I was doing what I was meant to be doing and he knew it." -- to me, this absolutely isn't just about Arya and what she became or a pleasant memory for her to indulge in, it plays into not only what Jon does by the end of the episode, but also is a bit on point for Sansa as well (for what happens in 7x07 and later on in 8x04) -> Jon doesn't want to "manipulate" someone "kindly", he thinks that everyone should want to help stop the Night King since it will affect the future of the whole world, especially this woman who says she is born to rule Westeros, who says she wants to help people, and has "made impossible things happen". He refuses to bend the knee because like he tells Dany in 7x04 "My people will never accept a Southern ruler." But Dany believes it is Jon's pride standing in the way of giving her what she wants and even says as much, which is reiterated by Tormund in this very episode. But we know it's not Jon's pride that stops him; it's the trust the North has put in him to lead them & he takes that very seriously. And based on what Kit said around the time of 8x01's production, Jon knows Sansa won't be happy about this development either and he fully expects her resistance. So Jon has to break the rules in order to do the right thing. The rules aka keeping something hidden from the audience in season 8 as he goes about his business aka not bending the knee to Dany right away despite her claim to the IT -> there has not been a Queen of the North for some time, if ever (sorry idr if this was mentioned in the books or not), and by her becoming Queen it essentially "breaks the rules", when in the beginning of the series the only way for her to become Queen was by marrying Joffrey. And while yes, Ned's line of "someone brave and gentle and strong" was meant for a future husband of Sansa's, it can also be applied to herself.

Here's how it relates to Jonsa: Ned. Ned is the connecting link here (and truthfully, has been since their reunion in season 6). This is why all of the Ned/Cat parallels & callbacks. Jon & Dany were essentially two sides of the same coin, going through similar journeys and meeting towards the end before going in other (but somewhat similar directions). Jon & Sansa have always been paralleled but they are not two sides of the same coin, their stories actually gel together even before they reunited and continue to do so in the last seasons that seems to show them as one. Working together, facing the same direction, and having the same goals: family, Winterfell, the North. And talking about these parallels, if Sansa learned to play the game and fools the so-called Master of the Game in this very season, you can bet that Jon used his learning experience being undercover in the Wildlings and is using it for something. "Everything before the word but is horseshit." And then to Dany: "I would kneel but--" Again, it all comes back to Ned for Jon and Sansa this season. Which then leads to the decision Jon is forced to make in 8x06 which is all Ned-related as well.

Then, as the scene continues, Arya confronts Sansa about the scroll and she says: "They forced me to do it." "Did they?" "You don't know what it was like." "I would've let them kill me before I betrayed my family." It's no coincidence that this is the scroll Arya has found this episode, that it has to do with the Lannisters and Ned, and that this scene is happening between the two sisters, in the very same episode Jon has to make this decision that weighs on him so heavily. Jon and Sansa are being paralleled yet again this episode. Because the show is trying to tell us that Jon is about to be in a similar situation that Sansa had once found herself in, that Dany is no different to the Lannisters (though we eventually find out she is more deadly and way more powerful with her dragon's rage and her destiny in mind). That Sansa is actually right to be worried in 8x04 and that when she sees even Tyrion is afraid of her, she is scared for Jon. This is cemented by Sansa's line of: "They told me it was the only way to save Father." & then Arya: "I remember you standing on that platform with Joffrey and Cersei when they dragged Father to the block."

(Tyrion is there with them btw and ironically, this is Varys' execution for being a traitor; Drogon is in place of Ser Ilyn Payne)

(Tyrion is here too, as is Drogon & Grey Worm who are both suspicious of Jon at this point; Tyrion is arrested as a traitor & jailed)

"I was there standing in the crowd by Baelor's statue."

"Did you come running to the rescue? Did you fight off the Lannisters and save Father?" "I wanted to."

And the scroll that Arya reads to Sansa: ""Robb, I write to you with a heavy heart. Our good king Robert is dead, killed from wounds he took in a boar hunt. Father has been charged with treason. He conspired with Robert’s brothers against my beloved Joffrey and tried to steal his throne. The Lannisters are treating me very well and provide me with every comfort. I beg you: come to King’s Landing, swear fealty to King Joffrey and prevent any strife between the great houses of Lannister and Stark." (Robb, who Jon is also paralleled to at times, who Sansa takes up the mantle from and parallels herself & the 2nd wolf in her crown is meant to represent as per Michele Clapton)

It not only sounds eerily similar to what Tyrion wrote to Jon in 7x02 (though tbf it's way more subtle and is in typical Dany rhetoric fashion) but also the message that Jon is constantly repeating to anyone who will listen: "She is our queen." "She's not her father." "She will make a good queen. For all of us." Because this is what he was told many times in many different ways before he bent the knee to Dany. What he knows Sansa and the North need to hear.

"I didn't betray him. I didn't betray Robb. I didn't betray our entire family for my beloved Joffrey." Jon who is seen in Ned's and Robb's gear; Sansa who is angry with Jon for bending the knee & asks him point blank "Did you bend the knee to save the North or because you love her?" -> "Do you have any faith in me at all?" - Jon

3) Jon & Tormund:

youtube

Then we get the random convos but that actually aren't that random.

"Gingers are beautiful. We are kissed by fire." - while Tormund is indeed a ginger, interesting that this comes up in conversation literally after the past two scenes being back to back; & of course the whole lucky kissed-by-fire bit comes up again but is contrasted by the dialogue partner being Sandor who does not have any positive view of fire and for good reason

"Did you trip into the fire as a baby?" "I didn't trip, I was pushed." - to me, this makes me think of two things: 1) kissed by fire is lucky -> red -> Sansa & burned -> pain -> Dany; 2) Jon has grown up a Stark his whole life & wanted to be a Stark, he didn't choose to have the Targaryen background that he does & I think this is part of what he struggles with so much, right up to 8x06

"I have a beauty waiting for me back at Winterfell. If I ever get back there."

Again, why is this line being thrown in there? In order to introduce Brienne into the convo, it could have been said another way but no they purposely chose this wording to be in this scene after those other 2 & I firmly believe this is in relation to Sansa because Jon is hoping to get back to Winterfell for the battle but there is no guarantee thanks to this mission and of course Dany's imprisonment before that.

"I want to make babies with her." "How did a mad fucker like you live this long?" "I'm good at killing people." - this makes me immediately think of 7x03: Dany - "We all enjoy what we're good at." Jon - "I don't."

4) Jon & Beric:

(same video above)

"You don't look much like him." "Who's that?" "Your father." - again, we come back to Ned. Not only because we get the whole Targaryen reveal soon (which is cemented by "I guess you favor your mother") but also because of the choice Jon will have to make next season which echoes Ned's and once more comes back to Sansa.

"We both serve the same Lord." "I serve the North." - once again, we are told point blank who Jon really serves which should make the audience suspicious when he does a sudden 180 at the end of the episode, especially when he uses the "but"

"We're soldiers. We have to know what we're fighting for. I'm not fighting for some man or woman I barely know so they can sit on a throne made of swords." "So who are you fighting for?" "Life. Death is the enemy. The first and the last." "But we all die." "The enemy always wins and we still need to fight him. That's all I know. You and I won't find much joy while we're here. But we can keep others alive. We can defend those who can't defend themselves." "I am the shield that guards the realms of men." "Maybe we don't need to understand anymore than that. Maybe that's enough." "Aye. Maybe that's enough." - this immediately brings me back to 7x03 with "No offense, Your Grace, but I don't know you." & Missandei's "We didn't choose her because she's the daughter of some king we never knew." (7x04) -> this whole dialogue right here between Jon & Beric shows exactly the choice Jon made. It was always about the Night King for him. Just like with the wildlings, he did what he had to do. That doesn't mean he didn't come to care for Dany in some way, especially when he found out she was his last remaining family on the Targaryen side (I'm remembering Aemon's words "no family to guide her or protect her"), but he didn't bend the knee because he loved her or started to have feelings for her or because he felt guilt over Viserion or because he genuinely believed Dany would be a good queen. He did it to save the North and protect the world, to be that shield once more. That's what it was about for him. And that's why he's so bothered by the possibility of Sansa not having any faith left in him, by Lyanna Mormont's ripping him a new one. This is why that deleted scene where Jon was slightly amused at the North's chilly reception of Dany.

And then of course, "You and I won't find much joy while we're here."

(and in this scene, notice how he does the same deep breath from 7x06, the same burden on his shoulders but this time in the form of his banishment to the Wall after having to make the decision he did earlier in the episode)

"But we can keep others alive."

"We can defend those who can't defend themselves."

(not to say that Sansa couldn't defend herself but against Dany/Drogon, the Unsullied, and the Dothraki - that wouldn't have been good odds to put it lightly. - also the beautiful thing about this season for these two: not only does Sansa save Jon in 6x09 but she does what she couldn't do in 1x10, she tries to save Jon (aka Ned) & in a way does (though he still gets banished, but this was the option Ned wasn't allowed though he chose it) but she 'broke the rules' aka told his secret in order to protect him, did a dishonorable thing which is her telling the secret despite her promise, and wanted to save him which she goes to KL to do which we see in the Dragon Pit scene in 8x06 & hear about from Tyrion in the later jail scene). And in season 1, Sansa told Ned's secret for selfish reasons. Here, she did it for the right reasons, even if Jon "can't forgive her" just yet for it. (though the hug scene shows us that he's not angry enough to not say goodbye to her before he's gone) In this aspect of the series, for these two on this front, it really did come full circle.

And as cheesy as it sounds, I like to think of Ned somewhere slow clapping and smiling, because they all worked together and the pack survived the winter that came. Jon was smarter than Ned and Robb; he listened. And Sansa saved herself from "Joffrey/the Lannisters" in the form of Jon as well as Ned; she learned.

#jonsa #jonsa meta #jon x sansa #got #game of thrones #gotposts #yep i'm back on my jonsa bullshit #and i am loving it #metaposts #jonsaposts

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istumpysk · 2 years

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ASOS: Bran IV (Chapter 56)

NO BRAN!

The dream he'd had . . . the dream Summer had had . . . No, I mustn't think about that dream. He had not even told the Reeds, though Meera at least seemed to sense that something was wrong. If he never talked of it maybe he could forget he ever dreamed it, and then it wouldn't have happened and Robb and Grey Wind would still be . . .

Thanks to Summer, Bran knows Robb and Grey Wind are dead.

He doesn't know about Catelyn. :(

+.+.+

The Nightfort had figured in some of Old Nan's scariest stories. It was here that Night's King had reigned, before his name was wiped from the memory of man. This was where the Rat Cook had served the Andal king his prince-and-bacon pie, where the seventy-nine sentinels stood their watch, where brave young Danny Flint had been raped and murdered. This was the castle where King Sherrit had called down his curse on the Andals of old, where the 'prentice boys had faced the thing that came in the night, where blind Symeon Star-Eyes had seen the hellhounds fighting. Mad Axe had once walked these yards and climbed these towers, butchering his brothers in the dark.

Some of these stories will be covered in greater detail later on, so I'll hold off until then.

The rest (Danny Flint, King Sherrit, and Symeon) mostly feel like worldbuilding. I don't think we have to worry about any character in the series serving as a current day Danny Flint.

+.+.+

All that had happened hundreds and thousands of years ago, to be sure, and some maybe never happened at all. Maester Luwin always said that Old Nan's stories shouldn't be swallowed whole.

You hear that? We have to hunt for the important stuff.

Take note of swallowed.

+.+.+

Bran forced himself to look around. The morning was cold but bright, the sun shining down from a hard blue sky, but he did not like the noises. The wind made a nervous whistling sound as it shivered through the broken towers, the keeps groaned and settled, and he could hear rats scrabbling under the floor of the great hall. The Rat Cook's children running from their father.

This chapter is dominated by the Rat Cook, but I think there's another rat hiding between the lines.

+.+.+

"But there are wildlings. They killed some man and they wanted to kill Jon too. Jojen, there were a hundred of them."

[...]

The direwolf had killed three of them, maybe more, but there had been too many. When they formed a tight ring around the tall earless man, he had tried to slip away through the rain, but one of their arrows had come flashing after him, and the sudden stab of pain had driven Bran out of the wolf's skin and back into his own.

[...]

Late that afternoon Summer returned from wherever he'd been hiding, dragging his back leg. He ate parts of the bodies in the inn, driving off the crows, then swam out to the island. Meera had drawn the broken arrow from his leg and rubbed the wound with the juice of some plants she found growing around the base of the tower. The direwolf was still limping, but a little less each day, it seemed to Bran.

Summer sustained the exact same injury as Jon. Not sure what to make of that.

+.+.+

Once the direwolf bolted through a dark door and returned a moment later with a grey rat between his teeth. The Rat Cook, Bran thought, but it was the wrong color, and only as big as a cat. The Rat Cook was white, and almost as huge as a sow . . .

Summer catches a rat that's less Rat Cook, more big grey cat. Maybe he caught it in a canal.

+.+.+

There were a lot of dark doors in the Nightfort, and a lot of rats. Bran could hear them scurrying through the vaults and cellars, and the maze of pitch-black tunnels that connected them.

They're everywhere! Even the maze of pitch-black tunnels!

+.+.+

"Twice as old as Castle Black," Bran said, remembering. "It was the first castle on the Wall, and the largest." But it had also been the first abandoned, all the way back in the time of the Old King. Even then it had been three-quarters empty and too costly to maintain. Good Queen Alysanne had suggested that the Watch replace it with a smaller, newer castle at a spot only seven miles east, where the Wall curved along the shore of a beautiful green lake. Deep Lake had been paid for by the queen's jewels and built by the men the Old King had sent north, and the black brothers had abandoned the Nightfort to the rats.

Harrenhal is built on the shore of a beautiful green lake?

Even if Daenerys doesn't destroy the Red Keep (she does, I'm making a point), it's clear Bran can't rule from a castle like that, with all its icky history. Knock that shit down, and start again. Same with the Nightfort.

Edit: Now that I think about it, Harrenhal has some pretty icky history as well. Makeover, plz.

+.+.+

"There are ghosts here," Bran said. Hodor had heard all the stories before, but Jojen might not have. "Old ghosts, from before the Old King, even before Aegon the Dragon, seventy-nine deserters who went south to be outlaws. One was Lord Ryswell's youngest son, so when they reached the barrowlands they sought shelter at his castle, but Lord Ryswell took them captive and returned them to the Nightfort. The Lord Commander had holes hewn in the top of the Wall and he put the deserters in them and sealed them up alive in the ice. They have spears and horns and they all face north. The seventy-nine sentinels, they're called. They left their posts in life, so in death their watch goes on forever. Years later, when Lord Ryswell was old and dying, he had himself carried to the Nightfort so he could take the black and stand beside his son. He'd sent him back to the Wall for honor's sake, but he loved him still, so he came to share his watch."

"There are ghosts here,"

Harrenhal has ghosts too, Bran.

Seventy-nine deserters. Is this important? I don't know. The only thing I can think of is Stannis occupying this same castle, and likely experiencing more desertions in the future.

+.+.+

"What did you see?" her brother Jojen asked her.

"I saw the haunted forest," she said in a wistful tone. "Hills rising wild as far as the eye can see, covered with trees that no axe has ever touched. I saw the sunlight glinting off a lake, and clouds sweeping in from the west. I saw patches of old snow, and icicles long as pikes. I even saw an eagle circling. I think he saw me too. I waved at him."

Did Varamyr wave back? I guess Mance is getting closer.

+.+.+

The gathering gloom put Bran in mind of another of Old Nan's stories, the tale of Night's King. He had been the thirteenth man to lead the Night's Watch, she said; a warrior who knew no fear. "And that was the fault in him," she would add, "for all men must know fear." A woman was his downfall; a woman glimpsed from atop the Wall, with skin as white as the moon and eyes like blue stars. Fearing nothing, he chased her and caught her and loved her, though her skin was cold as ice, and when he gave his seed to her he gave his soul as well.

He brought her back to the Nightfort and proclaimed her a queen and himself her king, and with strange sorceries he bound his Sworn Brothers to his will. For thirteen years they had ruled, Night's King and his corpse queen, till finally the Stark of Winterfell [Brandon the Breaker, the King of Winter]* and Joramun [The King-Beyond-the-Wall]* of the wildlings had joined to free the Watch from bondage. After his fall, when it was found he had been sacrificing to the Others, all records of Night's King had been destroyed, his very name forbidden.

"Some say he was a Bolton," Old Nan would always end. "Some say a Magnar out of Skagos, some say Umber, Flint, or Norrey. Some would have you think he was a Woodfoot, from them who ruled Bear Island before the ironmen came. He never was. He was a Stark, the brother of the man who brought him down." She always pinched Bran on the nose then, he would never forget it. "He was a Stark of Winterfell, and who can say? Mayhaps his name was Brandon. Mayhaps he slept in this very bed in this very room."

*my edit

Were you looking for answers? I have no real thoughts, only minor observations.

Old Nan is wrong here, according to The World of Ice and Fire, the Stark who stopped the Night's King was named Brandon. I doubt two brothers had the same name.

Kind of cool the wildlings and Starks band together with the objective of freeing the Night's Watch from bondage. Hard to not think of two characters in particular when you see the names Brandon the Breaker and Joramun.

The book seems to be suggesting the Night's King ("his very name forbidden") is the same person as Melisandre's boogeyman, the Great Other ("the Other, whose name must not be spoken").

Something about that doesn't make sense though. The Night's King was the thirteenth Lord Commander, yes? Well, the Night's Watch was created and the Wall built for the sole purpose of stopping the Others. They existed before the Night's King.

Other than that, I've got nothing.

For funsies, George R. R. Martin on the Night's King:

As for the Night's King (the form I prefer), in the books he is a legendary figure, akin to Lann the Clever and Brandon the Builder, and no more likely to have survived to the present day than they have.

+.+.+

The Reeds decided that they would sleep in the kitchens, a stone octagon with a broken dome. It looked to offer better shelter than most of the other buildings, even though a crooked weirwood had burst up through the slate floor beside the huge central well, stretching slantwise toward the hole in the roof, its bone-white branches reaching for the sun. It was a queer kind of tree, skinnier than any other weirwood that Bran had ever seen and faceless as well, but it made him feel as if the old gods were with him here, at least.

Is a weirwood without a face a friendlier kind of tree? No people eating? Sounds like the skinny tree Bran grew to play telephone with Jon.

+.+.+

The well was the thing he liked the least, though. It was a good twelve feet across, all stone, with steps built into its side, circling down and down into darkness.

Getting a bit weird now. Remind you of anything?

We've done this before with the rat Arya under the Red Keep.

From somewhere far below her, she heard noises. The scrape of boots, the distant sound of voices. A flickering light brushed the wall ever so faintly, and she saw that she stood at the top of a great black well, a shaft twenty feet across plunging deep into the earth. Huge stones had been set into the curving walls as steps, circling down and down, dark as the steps to hell that Old Nan used to tell them of. And something was coming up out of the darkness, out of the bowels of the earth … - Arya III, AGOT

Couple of notes:

Arya hears Illyrio & Varys at the bottom of her well, doesn't engage.

Bran hears Samwell & Gilly at the bottom of his well, meets them.

Arya descends her well, and exits the Red Keep.

Bran descends his well, and crosses beyond the Wall.

Before she gets to the well, Arya has a run-in with dragon skulls.

After he descends the well, Bran has a run-in with a spooky weirwood.

Both are hearing rats everywhere! :D

+.+.+

Bran did not like the shadows either, or the huge brick ovens that surrounded them like open mouths, or the rusted meat hooks, or the scars and stains he saw in the butcher's block along one wall.

Far, far, far below, they heard the sound as the stone found water. It wasn't a splash, not truly. It was more a gulp, as if whatever was below had opened a quivering gelid mouth to swallow Hodor's stone.

Lots of swallowing and mouths in this chapter, and I've yet to cover the worst one.

I don't like it.

"Under the sea the old fish eat the young fish," the fool muttered at Davos. - Davos V, ASOS

+.+.+

When the flames were blazing nicely Meera put the fish on. At least it's not a meat pie. The Rat Cook had cooked the son of the Andal king in a big pie with onions, carrots, mushrooms, lots of pepper and salt, a rasher of bacon, and a dark red Dornish wine. Then he served him to his father, who praised the taste and had a second slice. Afterward the gods transformed the cook into a monstrous white rat who could only eat his own young. He had roamed the Nightfort ever since, devouring his children, but still his hunger was not sated. "It was not for murder that the gods cursed him," Old Nan said, "nor for serving the Andal king his son in a pie. A man has a right to vengeance. But he slew a guest beneath his roof, and that the gods cannot forgive."

Hey, this might be an important story.

Frey Pie theory: Wyman Manderly orders the killing of three Freys (Rhaegar, Symond, and Jared), bakes them into three meat pies, then serves them at Ramsay's wedding.

The real question is when does Walder Frey get a taste, and how does Lady Stoneheart factor into this, if at all.

+.+.+

Outside the wind was sending armies of dead leaves marching across the courtyards to scratch faintly at the doors and windows.

I won't highlight every example, but the wind is doing a lot of talking in this chapter.

This wind isn't Bran though.

+.+.+

He remembered what Old Nan had said of Mad Axe, how he took his boots off and prowled the castle halls barefoot in the dark, with never a sound to tell you where he was except for the drops of blood that fell from his axe and his elbows and the end of his wet red beard. Or maybe it wasn't Mad Axe at all, maybe it was the thing that came in the night. The 'prentice boys all saw it, Old Nan said, but afterward when they told their Lord Commander every description had been different. And three died within the year, and the fourth went mad, and a hundred years later when the thing had come again, the 'prentice boys were seen shambling along behind it, all in chains.

More worldbuilding? Is this something? Ilyn Payne vibes. Ghost in Winterfell vibes.

+.+.+

That was only a story, though. He was just scaring himself. There was no thing that comes in the night, Maester Luwin had said so. If there had ever been such a thing, it was gone from the world now, like giants and dragons. It's nothing, Bran thought.

Bad news, Bran. Giants and dragons live, and the Others come in the night.

+.+.+

Back in Winterfell, Sansa had told him that the demons of the dark couldn't touch him if he hid beneath his blanket. He almost did that now, before he remembered that he was a prince, and almost a man grown.

+.+.+

She heard the sound at once, he could see that on her face; the echoing footfalls, the faint whimpering, the heavy breathing.

[...]

I can't let her fight the thing alone, he thought. Summer was far away, but . . .

. . . he slipped his skin, and reached for Hodor.

It was not like sliding into Summer. That was so easy now that Bran hardly thought about it. This was harder, like trying to pull a left boot on your right foot. It fit all wrong, and the boot was scared too, the boot didn't know what was happening, the boot was pushing the foot away.

That is incredibly loaded language. Oh, Bran.

Bran, Bran, Bran.

+.+.+

"From Craster's," the girl said. "Are you the one?"

Jojen turned to look at her. "The one?"

"He said that Sam wasn't the one," she explained. "There was someone else, he said. The one he was sent to find."

"Who said?" Bran demanded.

"Coldhands," Gilly answered softly.

Who cares, I want to know who sent Coldhands, the children or Bloodraven?

+.+.+

"There's a gate," said fat Sam. "A hidden gate, as old as the Wall itself. The Black Gate, he called it."

[...]

"You won't find it. If you did it wouldn't open. Not for you. It's the Black Gate." Sam plucked at the faded black wool of his sleeve. "Only a man of the Night's Watch can open it, he said. A Sworn Brother who has said his words."

Something tells me you had to say those words in front of a tree, not in a sept. Who all knows about this?

+.+.+

"Was he green?" Bran wanted to know. "Did he have antlers?"

The fat man was confused. "The elk?"

"Coldhands," said Bran impatiently. "The green men ride on elks, Old Nan used to say. Sometimes they have antlers too."

Pardon?

Dough-soft and slump-shouldered, his broad face tattooed in a motley pattern of red and green squares, Patchface wore a helm made of a rack of deer antlers strapped to a tin bucket. - Davos V, ASOS

That's from two chapters ago, how is that a coincidence?

Whatever, I'm moving on, this can't be anything. And if it is, I don't care.

+.+.+

"The Wall. The Wall is more than just ice and stone, he said. There are spells woven into it . . . old ones, and strong. He cannot pass beyond the Wall."

He's got that in common with dragons.

Spells woven into it, like Dragonstone.

+.+.+

Sam was staring at him. "You're Jon Snow's brother. The one who fell . . ."

"No," said Jojen. "That boy is dead."

"Don't tell," Bran warned. "Please."

Sam looked confused for a moment, but finally he said, "I . . . I can keep a secret. Gilly too."

Too bad it's well established Samwell can't keep a secret. Is that another Sansa parallel?

Three times he had sworn to keep the secret; once to Bran himself, once to that strange boy Jojen Reed, and last of all to Coldhands. - Samwell IV, ASOS

I'll bet anyone he breaks.

+.+.+

Gilly looked around. "Craster used to tell us tales of castles, but I never knew they'd be so big."

It's only the kitchens. Bran wondered what she'd think when she saw Winterfell, if she ever did.

Pretty sure I know what that means.

+.+.+

He could see the door, though. The Black Gate, Sam had called it, but it wasn't black at all.

It was white weirwood, and there was a face on it.

A glow came from the wood, like milk and moonlight, so faint it scarcely seemed to touch anything beyond the door itself, not even Sam standing right before it. The face was old and pale, wrinkled and shrunken. It looks dead. Its mouth was closed, and its eyes; its cheeks were sunken, its brow withered, its chin sagging. If a man could live for a thousand years and never die but just grow older, his face might come to look like that.

The door opened its eyes.

They were white too, and blind. "Who are you?" the door asked, and the well whispered, "Who-who-who-who-who-who-who."

"I am the sword in the darkness," Samwell Tarly said. "I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers. I am the shield that guards the realms of men."

"Then pass," the door said. Its lips opened, wide and wider and wider still, until nothing at all remained but a great gaping mouth in a ring of wrinkles. Sam stepped aside and waved Jojen through ahead of him. Summer followed, sniffing as he went, and then it was Bran's turn.

Weird, that creepy tree sounds just like Bloodraven.

Eaten by a weirwood's mouth. More things I don't like.

Sam stepped aside.

First Jojen.

Summer followed.

Then it was Bran's turn -> hold on, something happens.

Meera never mentioned.

+.+.+

Hodor ducked, but not low enough. The door's upper lip brushed softly against the top of Bran's head, and a drop of water fell on him and ran slowly down his nose. It was strangely warm, and salty as a tear.

Hodor hits the door's upper lip.

Who's crying? Or is it blood?

Final thoughts:

That will be Bran's last chapter until ADWD. Booo.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #asos #bran iv

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vannyandthejets · 2 months

Text

The Wolf and the Wildling

Chapter Six: Daryl

༄ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Stark!OC

༄ Season: 1

༄ Warnings: swearing

༄ Word Count: 5.9k

༄ A/N: Enter Carol in her plotting and scheming era woohoo who cheered?

This chapter took so long, but I think it turned out halfway decent all things considered. So sorry we haven’t gotten into any fighting yet but I promise it’s coming. I know we’re all dying to see Daryl fight like a wildling yeahhhhhh.

White hot rage coursed through Daryl’s veins. In all his years he had never felt an anger so intense, and it was all the fault of a boy of one-and-six who, in truth, had no idea what he had done by executing Lord Eddard Stark.

Daryl remembered then why he was in the middle of all the Flea Bottomers in the first place. Arya. She was almost within his reach.

He continued shoving through the horde of filthy citizens until he reached the statue where the youngest Stark daughter had perched herself only a moment before. She was no longer there and nowhere in his sights. Twice in a span of less than a minute had he failed to save Adara’s family. The more his mind considered this notion, the heavier the weight felt on his chest. How have I managed twice to let her down so swiftly?

When he looked back to the horrific scene, Adara was still on her knees. The color was drained from her face, her jaw slackened, and she stared as if her eyes were focused on nothing. Sansa laid beside her after fainting at the sight of her father’s head being showcased to the onlookers by Sandor Clegane. Daryl’s fists clenched. It was bad enough having to watch the Hound restrain Adara and prevent her from getting to her father, but after witnessing the way he callously paraded Ned Stark’s head, Daryl knew he would kill the man who would do such a cruel thing to Adara and Sansa, so undeserving of such a taunting.

He thought back to Fawn, who was waiting patiently outside of the city. He could hardly believe the direwolf had taken the journey with him, but Robb had insisted, and Fawn practically busted down the door to her cage as though she knew exactly where she was going. She tracked ahead of Daryl for the entire trip, only stopping to hunt or sleep, and almost did not listen when Daryl told her to stay behind upon their arrival near the city gates. He had a hard time believing the Stark direwolves really understood anything about humans, and yet they proved themselves far more intelligent than any other beast he had ever encountered. Fawn loved Adara, that much was certain.

Joffrey laughed and raised his hand once more, indicating he was about to speak. The people hushed just as quickly as they had become restless.

“Now that the traitor is dead, we must revel in this triumph! Ser Negan, please come forward!” The young king gestured to his left. All heads turned, including Daryl’s, to the daunting man making his way to the steps of the sept.

Ser Negan was every bit the Clegane he was rumored to be, though Daryl was surprised to learn he wasn’t as tall as his brothers. While he was still several inches above most of the men surrounding him, the Hound had to have at least six more inches on his older sibling.

The man they called the Blade smiled smugly during his ascent to kneel before King Joffrey. His was a maniacal grin that made Daryl angrier by the second. He appeared to enjoy the spectacle he was a part of.

The Blade sported the golden coat of mail and armor of Lannister that indicated he was another man in service to the most powerful family in Westeros. His hair was shorn in a fashion similar to that of the Mountain’s, yet his stature was lean in a way similar to the Hound’s. Daryl didn’t miss the way Ser Negan stepped in the puddle of Ned Stark’s blood and guffawed with Joffrey when they both made the realization.

Adara seemed to break from her trance when Ser Negan approached, helping Sansa to her feet and holding on to her sister’s arm for dear life. It was all Daryl could do not to rush the steps and take the both of them then and there.

“Ser Negan Clegane has returned to us after his long hiatus. He has been away in the service of my grandfather, and now that he is back, he has asked us to procure for him a bride,” King Joffrey announced. One of the men who, only moments earlier, was begging Joffrey not to kill Lord Stark leaned in and whispered in the boy’s ear, but the king swatted him away. “Nonsense, Lord Baelish. Why wait for a formal meeting in the Great Hall when we can make the announcement right here in the wake of the death of Ser Negan’s late father-in-law?”

Daryl didn’t miss the subtle hint. Late father-in-law. It couldn’t be.

Adara shoved Sansa behind her and began whispering to her, but Daryl could not make out any of the words.

Joffrey turned to the Stark sisters. “Lady Adara, come here.” There was poison in his tone. Every word he spoke to her was laced with disgust, something Daryl was all too familiar with each time he heard a kneeler voice their derision for wildlings.

He felt the anger bubble up inside himself once more, this time reaching for his sword but stopping short when a woman’s voice found his ear. “If you want to save them this is not the way.”

She had short grey hair and the blue eyes of most southern women. Her purple satin robe was indicative of some form of wealth, though Daryl knew better than to trust clothing to tell him anything about someone in King’s Landing. Rick told him time and time again that nobody was honest in the capital. After witnessing the King himself lie and behead a man he vowed to show mercy, Daryl understood just how right his friend was.

Adara took wary steps toward King Joffrey and Ser Negan. The young man put a hand on her back. Daryl detected the fear plain as day on her face. Whatever transpired between the last time he had seen Joffrey as a prince and now King had been enough to scare the wits out of her.

“My mother and counselors have advised me to see to the betrothal of Ser Negan of House Clegane and Lady Adara of House Stark, joining their houses and forging alliances that will aid both the North and the South for generations to come!”

Though Sansa wept in the background, Adara’s expression hardened. To the untrained eye one might assume she was apathetic about the arrangement, but Daryl’s entire life beyond the Wall had been one of training to sense fear. It was radiating off of her in waves, and he refused to stand there while she was thrown to the dogs.

“You’ll get yourself and the Stark girls killed if you charge those steps, Daryl.”

His head whipped towards the stranger once more, and he scowled. “Who the fuck are you and how the hell do ya know my name?” Daryl let himself speak before he could think to disguise his accent. The woman smirked. “Being in the service of Lord Baelish provides me with a wealth of knowledge. Judging by that peculiar accent of yours I would guess knowledge is not as easily distributed beyond the Wall.”

Before he could snap at the woman, King Joffrey spoke again. “Lady Adara may not be the traitor’s true daughter, but Robb Stark finds value in her all the same. My mother claims killing her would do us no good, so she will spend some time in the dungeons while Ser Negan fights for us. Once the war has been won and her family decimated, she will marry him.”

With nothing more than a look, two members of the Kingsguard seized Adara by her arms and ripped her from Sansa, practically dragging her away from the Sept of Baelor and out of Daryl’s sight. He could have sworn then that he heard Fawn begin to howl somewhere beyond the city gates.

He nearly went after her, but the mysterious woman put a hand on his arm. “I know where they are going to keep her, and I know how to help you get her out of here. Do you want to save her, or do you want to jeopardize all three of Lord Eddard’s daughters’ lives with your wildling temper?”

Daryl watched Sansa beg and scream for them to bring back her sister. The woman tugged on his arm. “I can help you save her.”

Sansa collapsed to the ground again with tears flowing like rivers down her cheeks. With one final desperate look in the direction Adara had been taken, he nodded to the woman and allowed her to pull him into the crowd.

The woman led Daryl through the streets of Kings Landing, stopping only when someone shot out in front of them. Her movements were fluid as though she’d made the journey a thousand times, waving to the people she knew, straightening herself and smiling when someone scowled at her.

When they finally reached a large, ornate building with an intricate wooden door, she stopped and turned to him. “You have to pretend to be a customer.”

She spoke as if he was supposed to understand her plainly, but when she read the blatant confusion on his face, she rolled her eyes. “This is a brothel, Daryl. You are not supposed to be here, so I’m taking a great personal risk letting you in. You have to pretend to be a customer.” Her eyes darted to a woman in a sheer suggestion of a dress leading a man into the brothel. Daryl understood then and grunted in reluctant agreement. If you Old Gods are real, do me this one damn favor and keep Adara’s ears far from my whereabouts. He remembered his best friend back home and fought back a smirk. Tormund, too. He’ll never let me live this down.

The strange woman took Daryl’s hand in spite of his flinching and pulled him into the same door the previous customer entered. He noted the sigil on the sturdy wood: a bird of some kind. To his surprise, the brothel looked nothing like what Daryl expected. It was an expensive, ornate interior. Tapestries lined several of the walls. Where the fine fabrics stopped, curtains and elaborate artwork took their places. Many of the tables in the common room were covered with fruits, cakes, and gaskets of wine. A harpist sat in the corner playing a song Daryl recognized only because he could recall Mance Raydar singing it in his tent.

I loved a maid as red as autumn

with sunset in her hair.

Adara’s hair was the sunset Daryl watched each evening in Frostfang. Her eyes were the deep grey of the storm clouds that followed him when he hunted in the deepest parts of the mountains. The touch of her hand on his cheek was the soft brush of heat from all the fires he’s built to keep the worst of winter at bay.

It truly hit him in that moment, what Adara’s situation was—her father was dead, and she was forcibly betrothed to one of the most dangerous men in the Seven Kingdoms. She would be held in the capital dungeons and be subjected to the gods only knew what. The thought made him feel ill.

“Daryl,” the woman’s voice broke him from his trance. He scanned his surroundings, realizing he was in an entirely different room. It was smaller and less extravagant but still on the lavish side as far as Daryl was concerned. It was an office; he could tell that much. It reminded him of Mormont’s office if only the man had not been so accustomed to a life without color.

“I had to bring you somewhere that we would not be followed. The only people allowed in this office are the ones I permit.” As she spoke, the woman poured wine into two cups and held one out to Daryl. He took the cup from her, but he did not drink, instead eyeing her cautiously.

She frowned before downing her wine in one large swallow. “If my goal was to kill you, you would already be dead.”

Daryl slowly brought the cup to his lips, but stopped himself before he could drink. He couldn’t trust a soul in the city, and this woman knew he was a wildling. He would be a fool to drink her wine or anyone else’s. He sat the cup down on the nearest table. “Who are you?”

“My name is Carol,” she stated simply before pouring herself more wine. Daryl waited for her to continue, but she only stared at him blankly. What the fuck is it with these kneelers and their mind games?

“Carol…? Are you from a House?” It was the only way Daryl knew to identify anyone. He missed home for that reason. Everything there was so simple. You came from one of several clans and—for the most part—you didn’t need to know anyone outside of your own clan. Beyond his side of the Wall it became far too complicated.

Her laugh was dry and felt as if she were annoyed by the conversation. “House Peletier was gone long before you even knew what was on this side of the Wall. Lord Baelish took me under his wing when I was younger. I’ve been with him ever since.”

Daryl rested his hand on the hilt of his sword more so out of comfort than momentary need. He recalled Rick’s many warnings, several of them about the man they called Littlefinger. “I was told I can’t trust Lord Baelish. Guess that means I shouldn’t trust you either if you’re so close with him.”

“A wise caution,” Carol admitted. “He is an influential man, which is why being in his good graces can be of significant benefit…particularly as it concerns a certain northern lady facing an arranged marriage to a man who will likely become her worst nightmare.”

Daryl wanted desperately to shake the information out of her, but he somehow managed to remain calm despite his lack of patience. “So you’re tellin’ me Baelish wants somethin’ from me?” He could not imagine what that would be. He hardly had a possession to his name.

The harpist in the next room stopped playing, allowing Daryl to note just how loud the brothel was. The sounds of passion came at him from every direction. He was surprised he had only just taken notice. It took everything in him to keep his composure in spite of is discomfort at sounds he hadn’t heard in years.

Carol crossed her arms over her chest. “You will owe Lord Baelish a debt. When he calls upon you for a favor, you will answer emphatically.” She reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out a sealed scroll bearing the same emblem that was carved into the front door. “I’ll help you reach the dungeons and retrieve Lady Adara, but once it’s time to flee the city, you’ll be on your own. Written on this scroll are the directions that will lead you out of King’s Landing. Do you accept that my help means you will be indebted to Lord Baelish, and that hereafter denying him of your favor may result in unnamed consequences?” Carol held the scroll in one hand and held out the other towards Daryl.

“How do I know this ain’t some kind of trick?” He questioned, doing his best to ignore the heat creeping up his neck and into his cheeks with each moan emanating from the walls.

The smile that spread across Carol’s face appeared so sincere that he was almost fooled into thinking she was actually amused. “If you want to try your luck without me, be my guest. You saw what King Joffrey did to the most righteous man in Westeros. What do you think he would do to the wildling in watchman clothes attempting to swipe all of his bargaining power right out from under him?”

Daryl did not have to consider long. He knew she was right. He had no other options. He couldn’t run the risk of encountering the Hound or the Kingslayer with Adara by his side. He was confident in his own fighting skills, but if multiple men charged him at once, it wouldn’t be long before both their heads were posted beside Lord Stark’s.

There was one thing Carol had yet to mention, but Daryl refused to ignore it.

“Sansa. How do we get to her room?”

Carol began to shake her head before Daryl had finished speaking. “We cannot spend long inside the castle. We’re already risking enough just discussing taking Lady Adara, and Lady Sansa’s chambers are in an entirely separate area. One or more of us would end up dead.”

Daryl’s grip on his sword tightened. “Why the hell would you offer any of this if it means I gotta leave Adara’s sister with that murderous little—“ Carol was quick to interrupt him, stepping into his personal space and staring directly into his eyes with a flare of irritation. “Use whatever minute amount of intelligence you possess for just a moment, Daryl. You will already be risking life and limb just to find Lady Adara, but then you must see her safely out of this hellscape of a city and somehow make it all the way back to Winterfell in the midst of what will soon be a war between the North and South. Not to mention, now that Lord Stark is dead, she very likely has guards following her day and night as well as standing outside her door. I don’t doubt you’re a capable fighter, but you do not want to take your chances with these knights, not when they could outnumber you in seconds and certainly not when you’d be risking lives more precious than your own.”

Daryl knew she was right again, as much as it pained him to admit it.

“She won’t be safe here.” He made one last futile attempt, but Carol shot him down. “She’s marrying the King. Distressing as he may be, he’s all the protection she could possibly hope for. She will never want for a single thing and nobody will be able to reach her within those walls. With war on the horizon, who knows if you’d be able to say the same thing for her if you took her to Winterfell?”

Carol sighed. “Do I need to go on? Tell you how dreadful it would be taking both girls on the run? Tell you how you taking Sansa would mean every single southerner—and probably even a few northmen—would be hunting for you to reap whatever reward King Joffrey would surely offer for your capture? I know you care for Lady Adara, but the consequences for taking her will be nowhere near as dangerous as they would if you took her sister.”

Daryl knew Adara was not seen as much of a value as her sister. Robb Stark said as much when he’d passed through Winterfell on his way to the capital.

“My mother doesn’t care for Adara, as I’m sure you’ve observed,” Robb stated bluntly as they strolled through the godswood.

The boy had aged since the last time Daryl saw him, and it looked as if it had been years. He worried for his father. From the frantic way everyone in the castle was behaving, Daryl could tell they were all gravely concerned for their lord.

Daryl shrugged, though he did take notice. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that was any indication he could possibly slander the boy’s mother.

“She is my sister as much as Arya and Sansa. She is also one of my most trusted friends, and my father means everything in this world to me. I will not ask you to stick your neck out for us, but I do ask that you make sure they are all right. Find them, reach them somehow, and tell them we will get them home.”

Since his arrival at Winterfell, the incessant howls of Fawn crying for her mother followed Daryl wherever he went, and he could hear her still in the godswood. Robb cringed at the sound.

“Take Fawn with you. She only leaves Adara’s room to hunt. She hardly eats or sleeps. She’s no good to anyone if she starves herself to death,” said the young Lord of Winterfell. “She may one day be all that stands between Adara and those who wish her harm.”

Daryl was of half a mind to wonder aloud how he would fair traveling with a massive wolf by his side, but he held his tongue on that matter. “As you command, m’lord.”

Robb shook his head. “Call me Robb, please. You’re doing my family an incredible service. We are beyond formalities now.” Daryl only nodded in response.

They circled back towards the entrance of the woods. Robb ran a nervous hand through his curls. “My mother means for me to ask you if you’ll be fighting for us, ser. As a man of House Grimes I’m inclined to presume you will.”

Another ‘ser’ that did not belong to him. Daryl was beginning to wonder if he should just parade as a knight during his Westerosi vacations. “I’m no knight, m’lord. Robb. But I am loyal to House Grimes. As soon as I see that your sisters and father are all right, I’ll meet you on the battlefield. You have my word.”

There he was in King’s Landing as he swore he would be, and none of them were all right.

He couldn’t save Lord Eddard, but Daryl owed it to Robb to do what he could for his sisters, and no matter what Carol said to try and convince him otherwise, that included Sansa. He would just have to keep that to himself until a moment came where he could reach her.

He stared into Carol’s eyes, searching for any sign of deceit or falseness. If she was trying to trick him, he wouldn’t find the evidence in her face. Rick’s caution against trusting the people of the capital city played in Daryl’s head once again. He then recalled the fear in Adara’s eyes as her impending nuptials were announced and she was hauled into the dungeons.

It doesn’t matter if she’s trickin’ me or not. This is my only chance.

He held his hand out to Carol. “All right. You got my word; I’ll do whatever Baelish wants. Tell me the plan.”

Another rat scampered across Daryl’s foot, but he kicked it off before it could weasel into his breeches. He coughed and grunted when the stale air of the narrow tunnel filled his lungs for the hundredth time. “When was the last time anyone’s been in here?” He ducked even lower in response to the ceiling slanting closer to the ground. Whoever uses these tunnels can’t be much bigger than a child.

“This labyrinth is utilized more often than you think. Lord Grimes did tell you there are many secrets in this kingdom, did he not?” Carol spared a glance back at him, a small smirk on her face that Daryl could just barely detect in the meager candlelight she held in her left hand. “How else do you think these secrets are discovered?”

He followed her down another flight of stairs. Stairs. So many fucking stairs. He could go the rest of his days without ever using another set of stairs and lay his grave all the happier.

A faint light appeared around a corner up ahead. Daryl started to unsheathe his sword, but Carol put a hand on the pommel. “No need for blades, Daryl. It’s the Spider, as I told you it would be.” Just as she finished, a man rounded the corner with a torch in his hand. He was the same height as Carol but with a stout build. His head was remarkably devoid of a single hair and he wore dark robes with a hood sitting behind his neck. The eunuch’s smile was uncanny to the description Rick had given him. “Lord Varys smiles as if he already possesses every secret about you…even ones you yourself do not know.”

“Daryl Dixon. Lady Adara has spoken so very highly of you. Such a pity she boasts of a man she does not truly know,” Lord Varys teased. Heat crept up Daryl’s neck and he scowled, this time reaching for the dagger on his hip he found at Castle Black. The smug smile never left Lord Varys’s face as he spoke. “There’s that wildling temper I’ve heard so much about. I would not be so hasty with your weaponry just yet, my friend. You may find yourselves rather lost should a hotheaded dagger tragically slip its way across my throat.”

Carol glared at Daryl. It was enough for him to reluctantly sheath the dagger and follow them both through the tunnel.

After what felt like ages, the tunnel opened up to where he could almost stand straight. Lord Varys stopped at a wooden door a few inches shorter than Daryl’s eye line. The Master of Whispers motioned for him to come forward.

Daryl took careful steps to avoid cracking the scattered bones of rodents on the floor. When he reached the door, Lord Varys handed him the torch. “The castle dungeons are comprised of four levels. Since Lady Adara is marked a traitor’s daughter, she is being kept in the black cells, the third level that we are at now. The only light these cells see are the torch lights brought in by gaolers. There are two on duty tonight: Dwight and Simon. I dosed their wine with milk of the poppy so you will have enough time to go in, retrieve Lady Adara, and get out. You will go back through this door and follow the exact directions laid out for you in the scroll Carol provided.”

He paused to place an iron key into Daryl’s hand. “To open the cell. Good luck.”

Daryl only had a few seconds to process the instructions before Lord Varys opened the door. He frowned and looked between the two strangers who’d led him to the black cells. If this is a trap, I swear by the Old Gods I’ll kill both of you, he thought and nodded briefly before ducking and moving into the darkness.

The black cells were named aptly, for they were shrouded in darkness. Even with the light provided by the torch, Daryl could only see five feet forward. The air was foul and heavy and reeked of decay. He forced himself not to dwell on why that was as he slowly stepped through the dank hall.

Daryl heard nothing but dripping and the squeals of rats for several minutes before a small voice whispered somewhere in the distance. He pulled his sword from the scabbard. It had not occurred to him until that moment that the Spider could have lied about the sleeping gaolers. They could be awake and waiting on him somewhere in the blackness. The whispering could even be members of the Kingsguard ready to behead him the moment the light hit their white armor.

Daryl cursed himself for being so foolish. He was walking into a trap created by people who knew what he was, who knew that Rick had been helping him.

“It will all be okay, Kelly. I promise you I will figure out a way to get us out of this. I swear it on my life and on my honor as a Stark.”

The voice stopped him in his tracks. Daryl thought he might have imagined it, but that couldn’t be. He spent so many nights at Castle Black trying to remember that voice and could never recreate its beauty. It was Adara’s real voice.

He nearly broke into a sprint, ready to kill any man who tried to stop him from reaching the voice. Daryl glanced into each cell as he ran past. While most were empty, every so often he saw a pair of eyes watching him go by.

At the first sign of red his eyes found, he planted his feet to the floor. Behind the bars of the cell he was facing, three women were curled up as far from the door as they could get. Between the two he didn’t recognize, Adara sat with her head on the shoulder of one of the women and her arm laced through the arm of the other.

All three of them looked up at the same time. The two unfamiliar women gasped and recoiled at the sight of Daryl, but when Adara met his eyes, her own filled with tears. “Daryl? Gods be good, I’ve truly gone mad.”

Daryl let a chuckle escape his lips. “It’s me. I’m really here and I’m getting you out of here, m’lady.”

His nerves were so stricken upon seeing her again that he momentarily fumbled with the key before aligning it with the cell lock. He barely had time to open the door before Adara leapt into his arms and threw her own around his neck. He didn’t hesitate to envelop her and pull her as close to him as their bodies would allow, though he took care to keep the torch at length.

Her quiet sobs were muffled by Daryl’s shoulder. When he released her, Adara sniffled and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. “I can’t believe you’re here.” Her glassy eyes were like to break his heart. He carefully placed a hand on her face and caressed her cheek. Her skin was even softer than he remembered. “I’m here to take you home.”

She leaned into his touch briefly before turning to her two cellmates. The women were both young and fair with dresses similar to Adara’s.

“These are my handmaidens, Connie and Kelly. Joffrey sent them to the cells with me simply for being my friends,”Adara confessed with a guilt-ridden tone. She looked back to Daryl. “They have nowhere else to go, Daryl. They’ll die down here or be killed once I’m married to Ser Negan.”

Just the mention of the Blade made Daryl want to take Adara and run as far as his legs could carry him. He couldn’t help but picture Adara watching her father die. After such a devastating loss, he refused to allow her to bear any more death. “They’ll come with us.”

Connie and Kelly got to their feet and smiled. Adara’s hands motioned to them in ways he was unfamiliar with, but once she was done, Connie was beaming.

Daryl remembered the gaolers asleep somewhere nearby and reluctantly released Adara from his hold. “We need to move quickly. I don’t know how much time we have before someone finds us.” He took Adara’s hand. “Follow me. Stay as close as possible. Do you have your dagger?”

She used her free hand to lift the side of her skirts and pull the Valyrian steel dagger from a holster on her thigh. Daryl looked to the ceiling in a brief plea to the gods that Adara wouldn’t detect the way every part of his body tensed at the sight of her thigh.

Once she’d readjusted her dress, Adara motioned for Connie and Kelly to follow. “We’re leaving, girls.” They both smiled and fell in line behind Adara and Daryl, signaling their readiness.

Daryl led his party of four back to the wooden door. For a moment he wondered if it would be locked, but to his relief, the door opened with ease. He pushed it as far as it would go and ushered the three women through before ducking into the tunnels once more.

There was no point in using the scroll when Daryl had the directions memorized, so he pulled it from his shirt pocket and handed it to Kelly. “If something happens to me while we’re trying to leave, these are the directions out of the city.” As soon as Kelly nodded her understanding, he started for the first turn they needed to make.

Left, right, another left, down the long corridor to the third archway, second staircase to the right of the next hall.

Adara’s grip on Daryl’s hand was so tight he might have worried about loss of circulation if he hadn’t been so preoccupied with getting out of the castle.

Once they descended the stairs, they came out to an alleyway stinking of feces. The three women scrunched their noses and covered their faces with their sleeves in disgust, but Daryl hardly flinched. If they think this is bad, they wouldn’t survive the smells from the shit holes in camps beyond the Wall.

“Surely this isn’t where you entered to find us,” Adara remarked in the nasal tone resulting from her pinching her nostrils.

Daryl chuckled as quietly as he could. Even under cover of nighttime he could never be sure there weren’t eyes everywhere and ears everywhere else.

He looked to Connie and Kelly, motioning to the hoods on the backs of their cloaks. “Put those on. The less people notice us, the better.”

Adara’s red hair seemed even brighter in the moonlight, almost a flame brighter than the torch they’d abandoned in the tunnels. As much as Daryl loved it, she stuck out more than the rest of them when so few redheads dwelled beyond the Riverlands.

He removed his watchman’s cloak and carefully placed it on Adara’s shoulders. She threw the hood over her hair and giggled. “I feel like a ranger now.”

Daryl smiled before scanning the alley to make sure it was clear for them to move. “You’re much prettier than any of the rangers I’ve seen.” At that, Connie and Kelly covered their mouths to stifle their own giddy amusement.

Once he knew the coast was clear, Daryl motioned for them to move ahead. Adara led the way through the alley, moving slow enough to let him catch up. Daryl took Adara’s hand again and wove through the winding roads of Flea Bottom with the women in tow.

The city was eerily quiet. Beyond the sounds of dogs barking and the occasional open window letting music into the streets, Daryl could not believe just how quiet it was for a city so full of people. There was no time to question it, though. Whatever was keeping people from noticing them was something to be grateful for. At least, for the time.

Finally, after so many turns that Daryl began wondering if maybe he’d lost his way, they reached the hidden door on the wall that Carol wrote about in the scroll. Forcibly press the brick with seven chips on its face. He did exactly that, and the door opened.

Connie and Kelly went first with Adara close behind them. She stopped in the doorway to look between Daryl and the city. “Is this it? I’m finally leaving?”

He smiled at her with an ease he only experienced when those steel grey eyes watched him with all the earnestness in the world. “You’re finally leaving, and I swear on my life you will never have to come back.”

Adara smiled and followed Connie and Kelly beyond the city walls. Daryl brought up the rear with near complete satisfaction at his success. It was only when he’d closed the stone door and ran with the women for the woods that he realized they hadn’t encountered a single City Watchman.

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waitingforwinterwinds · 1 year

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A Clash of Kings - 13 JON II (pages 185-191)

North of the Wall, the expedition finds only empty houses as they continue their ranging.

Slung across his back in a black leather shoulder sheath was Longclaw, the hand-and-a-half bastard blade the Old Bear had given him for saving his life. A bastard sword for a bastard, the men joked. The hilt had been fashioned anew for him, adorned with a wolf's head pommel in pale stone, but the blade itself was Valyrian steel, old and light and deadly sharp.

Valyrian Steel ⚔️=🥛

None of the villages showed any signs of having been attacked. They were simply... empty. "What do you think happened to them all?" Jon asked. "Something worse than we can imagine," suggested Dolorous Edd. "Well, I might be able to imagine it, but I'd sooner not. Bad enough to know you're going to come to some awful end without thinking about it aforetime."

Edd makes a good point. (Hi Edd.) So. Did they all just pack up and leave, fleeing south from the oncoming threat, or did the Others creep into their minds and make them all just walk away.

"There were no furnishings, no sign that people had lived her but for the ashes beneath the smokehole in the roof." I mean, to me that says people had time to pack up and move their belongings, so likely it's just the evacuation.

"I wish he could carry me with him." "Still?" "Well," said Sam, "yes, but... I'm not as frightened as I was, truly. The first night, every time I heard someone getting up to make water, I thought it was wildlings creeping in to slit my throat. I was afraid that if I closed my eyes, I might never open them again, only... well... dawn came after all."

Pfff, ain't that a familiar anxiety cycle. Things are rarely as horrid as we fear, just initially daunting, but knowing that doesn't make them less initially daunting.

So proud of Sam! But also, don't drop your guard! Get familiar, get comfortable, but don't get complacent. That's how you turn a corner right into a zombie horde! I've seen enough zombie shows to know!

Although I do like that "dawn came after all." Knowing where the series is going, and having the (temporary) apocalypse literally called The Long Night, that's kind of the hope for the end of things. Dawn comes after all. (...BRB having FFXV feels.)

Wow, this was a really short chapter. 6 pages, probably one of the shortest... or maybe it just seems that way since we just had a 20 page two chapters ago.

#a clash of kings #a song of ice and fire #jon snow #a chapter a day reading #acok #asoiaf

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ao3-feed-sterek · 10 months

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Where The Wildlings Labor

by KaliopeShipsIt

“Forgive me, your Highness, but it appears as though the Royal Consort has gone into labor!”

Stiles’ head snapped up from where he’d been studying the proposed amendments to the trade treaty that he’d been arguing over with the Calaverian delegation for the past hours.

“Thank you, Erica. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Your Highness, what-“ Sir Brunski began, giving Stiles an alarmed look full of indignation and disbelief when the young king unceremoniously pushed his chair back, ignored his trade advisor and addressed the Calaverian ambassador directly.

“My apologies, ambassador, but I’m afraid I shall have to leave you in the very capable hands of Lady Martin for now. There will be plenty more opportunities for us to debate the taxes imposed upon the trading of oil, silver, and copper, but I’m afraid there’s only opportunity to witness the birth of my heir.”

Words: 7611, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of To Wild Hearts Calls the Moon

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Additional Tags: Mpreg, Pregnant Derek Hale, Omegaverse Omega Derek Hale, Omegaverse Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Boypussy Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Royalty, King Stiles Stilinski, Prince Derek Hale, birth scene, Mention of Male Lactation but not explicit, Gender politics, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/48557581

#Sterek #Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski #Stiles Stilinski #Derek Hale #ao3feed #fanfic #IFTTT

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pinkykats-place · 2 years

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Sansa Stark x Stannis Baratheon

AO3 Fanfic Recommendations

Game of Thrones

Art not mine - vincha on DeviantArt.

Disclaimers!

None of the stories linked below are mine.

Please read AO3 tags!

This pairing is an older male and younger female. Mature content between a couple with a significant age gap.

Would That She Would Cleanse Me

by LadyTP

Summary: AU outcome of the Battle of the Blackwater with victorious Stannis Baratheon. Among many other worries, the fate of a certain highborn captive of the crown falls on him. Lady Sansa Stark is but a child...or is she? And what to do with her?

Complete | 12 CH | Mature Content

The True King Vignettes

by ShipMaester

Summary: An Alternate Universe story where Stannis Baratheon is victorious at the Battle of Blackwater Bay and other AU scenarios. This series of vignettes is primarily a vehicle to ship Stannis and Sansa Stark with acknowledgement of pre-ship between Sansa and Sandor Clegane.

Complete | 25 CH | Mature Content

The Lady of Storm's End

by Sarah_Black

Summary: Sansa was supposed to marry someone brave, gentle and strong. Lord Stannis Baratheon was not what she had in mind.

Or: The one where Sansa is never betrothed to Joffrey, never loses Lady, and only comes to King's Landing to attend King Robert's wedding feast. The king is marrying Margaery Tyrell as Cersei's treason has been exposed and dealt with.

But things are never simple when the Iron Throne is in desperate need of heirs and wildlings threaten the peace...

Complete | 24 CH | Mature Content

The Fiery Stag and The Red Wolf

by HearMyFury790

Summary: When his wife and younger brother died, Stannis was forced to remarry. And that new bride was Sansa Stark. They both do their duty as husband and wife, but when the Lannisters and others try to steal his rightful throne, both Stannis and Sansa face many challenges facing against the lions and their allies.

But they will soon know one truth: Winter is Coming...With Fury.

Incomplete | 15/? CH | Mature

Last updated 2019

Dutiful

by Kat_of_a_Different_Color

Summary: When Stannis Baratheon wins the Battle of the Blackwater, Robb Stark agrees to step down as King in the North on the condition that Stannis wed Robb's sister, Sansa Stark, lately captive of the Lannisters.Sansa has heard mostly negative things of Stannis Baratheon - but she knows that her father thought him an honorable man, no matter what anyone else said of him.Their wedding night, though, does not have the easiest start...

Incomplete | 8/? CH | Mature Content

Last updated 2020

All is Aglow

by spittingfeathers

Summary: As the Baratheon and Stark alliance approaches King's Landing, and her hope of rescue soars, Sansa hears of a plot to use wildfire against the invading force. Her only chance of saving her family and escaping the claws of the Lannisters is to fight back. Cersei and Joffrey would never suspect such a silly girl to be their undoing...

Incomplete | 22/? CH | Mature

Last updated April 2022

Series: Some Let Go and Some Hold On

by undercovercaptain

2 Works

#game of thrones #archive of our own #fanfic recommendation #Sansa x Stannis #Sansa Stark x Stannis Baratheon

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nightswatchdisbandmentera · 1 year

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It’s pretty cool how seeing/watching is an important motif and parallel for all the Stark kids (who are POVs).

Jon

This motif is most obvious in Jon’s arc because not only are observation and perceptiveness presented as some of his greatest skills, but watching is quite literally in his job description (“I am the watcher on the walls”).

His very first POV chapter in the entire series sets him apart as a watcher and observer. He does not join the royal procession but instead sits apart from them, watching them and passing judgements (which are quite correct even if some are wrapped with jealousy). We’re also introduced to Benjen who is one of the first people to remark that Jon is quite observant. This is also the chapter in which Jon makes the fateful decision to join the Night’s Watch, which comes after Benjen praises him for his ability to see past what is on the surface.

Arya’s first chapter then further explores the motif of Jon as a watcher because Jon is seated away from the rest of the boys, watching them and passing mostly correct judgements (e.g., Joffrey being a little shit). Even before that, in Bran’s first POV, Jon is introduced as one of the watchers of Gared’s execution. He also emboldens Bran not to look away, but to watch carefully (interesting how this is later paralleled by Bran returning the favor and opening Jon’s third eye). He later makes the judgement that Gared died in fear (which is quite correct because Ned later tells Catelyn that the deserter was driven “half mad with fear”). It’s also in this chapter that they find the direwolf pups and immediately, Jon’s skill as a watcher is manifested. What sets Jon’s direwolf apart from the rest is not just the snow-white fur, but the ruby red eyes which are not only similar to the weirwood trees (which see everything far and wide) but also greenseer eyes (e.g., Bloodraven and the Ghost of High Heart). Melisandre, a seer of prophetic visions, also has red eyes. So Jon sees in both the physical and metaphysical, which is quite a unique character skill.

And the motif of watching follows him throughout his arc as he becomes a man of the Night’s Watch (he’s a steward whose job is to watch and observe Mormont’s leadership) and then later joins the wildlings (where he has to watch and observe their plans to attack the wall); being a spy requires strong observation skills. He also awakens his warging powers in ACOK which enable him to see through another’s eyes, plus his first wolf-dream has him watching the wildling camp; again, this happens after Jon meets Bran who opens his third eye so he can see. As his powers continue to manifest, Jon is able to watch the other direwolves in his dreams. Plus, he also seems to exhibit the power of prophecy, which is seeing beyond the physical. Jon’s most recent prophetic dream has him standing atop the Wall, fulfilling his duty as a Night’s Watchman.

It’s interesting that watching almost always leads to Jon passing judgements - and the more the story progresses, the bigger his judgements are. His ADWD arc is essentially all his watching thus far being put into action and it seems that he is set to become a major player and not just an observer in TWOW/ADOS.

Arya

Seeing is a very important motif in Arya’s arc because it colors much of her character development throughout the series. Like Jon, she’s constantly put in positions where she’s made into an outcast, which forces her onto the sidelines so she can look and watch more clearly.

Like Jon, Arya’s first POV introduces her as a watcher. She joins Jon as he watches Robb, Bran, Joffrey and Tommen spar with swords. But what is interesting here is that she is presented as a watcher of watchers (she is watching Jon, who watches the boys down below). Both Jon and Arya make important observations in that chapter (e.g., Joffrey having his mother’s sigil placed equally to his royal father’s), but they also remark on their own statuses as outcasts who have been forced out of the main action and can only watch what happens down below (bastards getting only the swords and girls only getting the arms).

Then we have other important moments where Arya has to watch, and sometimes what she watches is traumatic. While down in the tunnels of King’s Landing, she is a passive observer of Varys’ and Illyrio’s plotting. Then we have her father’s execution where Arya is forced to watch as her father confesses to treason. Interestingly, Arya doesn’t actually see Ned’s execution because Yoren stops her from doing so; to parallel Sansa who actually does see it.

We start the story with Arya being someone who can see beyond the surface (beyond class, gender, etc), but this is heightened to an almost traumatic degree as her arc progresses. She is forced to see first hand the devastation of the Riverlands as the War of the Five Kings rages on. And as this is happening, she is forced into becoming more of an outcast (e.g., a slave in Harrenhal). This is also around the time when she begins to have wolf dreams - where she can see through Nymeria’s eyes.

Then she has to go to Braavos where she is trained to see and observe more deeply. She spends a lot of time observing people and then relaying that information back to the HoBaW. Her first kill is made possible by her strong observation and analytical skills. But interestingly, she looses her eye sight as part of her training (but this is when she develops the ability to skinchange into a cat); like the time when Ned was executed, Arya’s eyes being covered lead to greater development. Arya’s name during this period (where he sight is taken away) is Blind Beth.

But Arya is at a time where she isn’t just a passive watcher, but an actor as well. We can see this more pointedly with the theatre troupe she is joining in TWOW where she actually has to act out. But she could also be using her powers of observation as an acolyte of the Faceless Men. Like Jon, Arya is becoming a very powerful player due to her time as an outcast watching from the sidelines.

Bran

I put Bran as third because a lot of his arc parallels Jon and Arya. For much of the first book, Bran is an outcast watching from the sidelines as other players move around in the game.

Bran, like Jon, is first introduced to us as a watcher. Bran watched Gared’s execution and this chapter plants the seed for Bran as someone who does not look away from the ugly things; he chooses to watch as instructed by Jon. Like Arya, the first chapter also has Bran be someone who watches the watcher (namely Jon); he watches Jon watch Theon, for example.

Then Bran’s next chapter places him as a watcher who sees many important (and deadly) things. He sees that Jon is unhappy about going to the Wall. And this is also where his infamous defenestration happens - Bran watches Jaime and Cersei commit treason against King Robert. I think this is a pretty cool parallel with Arya since she observed Varys and Illyrio plot their own form of treason against the Baratheon king.

Though he doesn’t start out an outcast like Jon and Arya were, Bran does eventually become one once he is crippled. This forces him to take a bigger watching role - i.e, watching Robb (and also noticing the distinction between Robb the Lord and Robb the Boy). Bran also awakens his greenseer abilities, and he has several prophetic dreams all throughout AGOT; another parallel with Jon who starts having prophetic dreams in this book.

Though he is crippled, Bran does (briefly) occupy a seat of power as he is made to watch over Winterfell and its people in Robb’s stead. This is also the book in which he becomes a warg (and has his first wolf dream, just like Jon and Arya). It’s also in this book that Bran meets Jon in a wolf dream and tells him that he doesn’t mind the darkness because it gives him the ability to see others while they can’t see him (though interestingly, Jon actually can see Bran - is it because Jon is a watcher too?). Bran also opens jon’s third eye so that he can see much and more; a way in which watching connects these two characters who also seem to share a magical destiny.

Bran later makes his way to the three-eyed crow and is now learning to see more through ravens, weirwoods, and even humans (e.g., Hodor - though this is not something he is being taught). And this is giving him the power to influence others all over Westeros. He reaches out to Theon, Arya, and maybe even Jon at Castle Black. Like Jon and Arya, Bran is not just a passive observer but is becoming quite the active and powerful player.

Sansa

It’s interesting how watching/seeing presents itself in Sansa’s arc because, on the surface, it seems as if she doesn’t see much. But that’s not really true. Sansa is actually very observant - the issue comes with how she interprets what she does see.

Unlike her siblings, Sansa doesn’t really start out as an outcast. Jon is a bastard, Arya a gender non-conforming girl, and Bran a cripple. But like her siblings, Sansa’s first chapter has her watching - first Arya and Mycah then later Joffrey. It’s interesting how Joffrey is a common factor in Arya’s and Sansa’s watching experiences (he appears in both their first and last chapters and his actions are important).

Sansa parallels Arya because she is present at Ned’s execution but where Arya can’t see it actually happen, Sansa does. Then Joffrey forces her to see her father’s people as their heads are paraded stop the walls. It’s after this that Sansa becomes an outcast of sorts in King’s Landing. Joffrey has shunned her and she is subjected to daily abuse (much like Arya in Harrenhal). Because of this, she takes on the role of an observer in the king’s court.

She watches Barristan Selmy’s dismissal, observes Cersei during the Blackwater, watches the event that unfold at purple wedding, watches the Tyrells as they establish power in King’s Landing, and much more. It’s during this period that she starts to make small but important steps as a player (e.g., saving Dontos after watching Joffrey abuse him). As Littlefinger’s bastard daughter, she now watches the inner workings of the Vale lords (and Littlefinger as well). It’s a parallel she shares with Arya since both sisters are being trained to observe others closely. They’re rather complementary arcs: Sansa is at court watching and seeing as the lords play their game of thrones and grab power and influence wantonly, whereas Arya gets to watch and see how this game of thrones negatively affects the small folk. Interesting enough, we get a brief inversion where Sansa gets to observe how the small folk are being impacted during the bread riots and Arya can briefly see how the lords play their game of thrones in Harrenhal.

A difference between Sansa and her siblings, however, is that she is yet to unlock her warging. One could argue that her ability to see in a magical sense had been cut off, but some readers speculate they she might learn to skinchange into birds or the old dog in the Eyrie.

However, like all her siblings, Sansa is now moving from a passive observer to an actor. Her sample TWOW chapter shows us that she is slowly moving into the political epicenter of the Vale. So another Stark kid shifts from being a pawn who can only watch in the sidelines to an active player in the game of thrones.

Other Miscellaneous Parallels

There’s a small link between watching and stewardship - stewardship in the sense of kingship. Jon is a Night’s Watchman and also the Lord Commander - and is linked to kingship often in the narrative. Bran is a greenseer and also the rightful Lord of Winterfell - plus, he’s Robb’s royal heir. These two brothers are also the two central characters in the fight against the Others, and each takes on a role that involves watching and seeing as their main power against the coming winter. For Jon and Bran, their ability to see the physical and metaphysical seems to be connected to whatever magical destiny they have as kings and stewards of the realm and it’s people.

A small but interesting parallel Jon and Sansa have is that they see contempt in Joffrey in their first POV chapters. Jon notices the contempt Joffrey has towards Winterfell’s grey walls as he watched the royal procession, while Sansa notices the contempt Joffrey has towards her at the Trident.

Another parallel that is shared among all the Stark kids is that they watch an execution done in the name of a Baratheon king. Gared’s execution, watched by Jon and Bran, is done in King Robert’s name and Ned’s later execution, as watched by Sansa and Arya, is done in King Joffrey’s. Jon also watched fake!Mance’s execution which is done in King Stannis’ name.

Jon, Bran, and Arya are paralleled in that they are watchers in the shadows or the darkness. Arya is hidden in the shadows as she observes Varys and Illyrio, Jon notes that he is a shadow among shadows watching others, and Bran states that he likes the darkness because it allows him to observe others while they can’t see him.

Lastly, I’ve realized that Jon is a common denominator in Bran’s and Arya’s watching experiences. In Bran’s first chapter, Jon instructs him not to look away; and Bran heeds his advice and watches closely. Because Jon emboldened him to watch, Bran gets to learn the important lesson that a man can be both brave and afraid. Then in Arya’s first chapter, Jon instructs her to look at what is happening down in the yard. And this also emboldens her to see Joffrey for what he is; and she is also able to make important observations on the social divisions that she and Jon are victimized by.

All in all, it’s obvious that the Stark kids had to be observers as part of their training. A time for wolves is coming, and these watchers from the sidelines are poised to become major players.

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #jon snow #house stark #bran stark #arya stark #sansa stark #starklings #my stuff #question for the class #is there a difference between watching and seeing?#and what about looking?

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