#why did they have gendry just sit there and not address him at all like?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

endlessnorth · 3 years

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accio love || requested by @anonymous & @the-end-is-kigh & @what-the-waterbear

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hogwarts!au + fake dating + “wait, no, don’t take kissing away from me.”

“So we walk in, and I kiss you.”

“No, no, no,” Arya says impatiently as she reaches over to swipe one of his Chocolate Cauldrons. “We walk in, and I kiss you.” Her cheeks are still flushed from quidditch practice, her broomstick thrown carelessly on the floor of the boys’ dormitory, and Gendry has to roll his eyes because this is so utterly ridiculous.

“Why does the order matter?”

“Are you the first English witch in generations to compete in the Triwizard Tournament?” she glares at him. “The order matters because I say it matters. And I kiss you, end of story.”

“I’m starting to think this a bad idea,” he grumbles. “Maybe there just shouldn’t be any of that at all.” Gendry’s nervous enough for the Yule Ball as it is; he doesn’t need any extra pressure on him.

“Wait, no, don’t take kissing away from me, that’s clearly the most important part.” He scoffs at Arya; she leans her chin on her hand. “What?”

“You’re not being serious!”

“I’m trying to be.”

“Are you really?”

It’s her turn to be scornful. “Gendry,” Arya complains, her tone a bit indignant. He looks at her archly; she sighs, folds her hands, and sits primly on his ratty comforter - flashing him a smile that he can’t help but mirror. “Come on. Just go over it one more time.”

And, well, he can’t say no to that.

“So we’re there in the Great Hall,” he starts off, “and you’re kissing me…”

–

The castle and its inhabitants transform on the night of the Yule Ball; there’s a kind of enthusiasm and anticipation in the boys’ dormitory that Gendry hasn’t felt since the first quidditch match of the year. The room is a flurry of robes, fussy collars, and envious first-years - Gendry hears a low moan from the other side of the room as Podrick Payne, in an attempt to magically fix his hair, ends up charming away most of his left eyebrow.

“You nervous?” Anguy asks as he tugs a pair of frilly stockings over his legs. Gendry wrinkles his nose at the sight of them, mostly dreading the fact that he’ll have to wear something similar as well.

He fixes his tie and forces his hair to stay down flat in the mirror with a touch of Sleekeazy’s. “Why would I be?”

“You’re going to the Yule Ball with Arya Stark, mate!” Anguy sputters. “She’s the Hogwarts Champion for the first Tournament in centuries, how aren’t you intimidated? And she won the First Task,” he adds, like that’s something Gendry could ever forget.

Although remembering is one thing; accepting, another trial entirely. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so frightened as he was the day of the First Task - watching Arya fly around her broomstick, dodging wayward claws and tongues of fire before swooping in to steal the dragon’s egg is something he hopes to never relive again. She’d nearly had to beat him off her after that, he’d been hugging her so hard. And he’d only stopped because her hair smelled like dragon spit and ashes.

“I was already dating her,” he says eventually.

Anguy frowns at him. “Yes, I realize, and I wanted to ask you - when exactly did that happen?”

Gendry grimaces. Three days after her name came out of the Goblet, he thinks, or about seventy-two hours after Ned Dayne abruptly decided he was in love with my best friend - at which point Arya decided she’d rather have me for a fake boyfriend than that prat for a real one.

He doesn’t have time to unpack all that though, and luckily, Samwell pipes up from the other side of the room.

“Well, I’m nervous!”

“Of course you are,” Grenn says. “Gilly wouldn’t even give you the time of day before this, and now she wants to hold your hand? I’d be bloody stunned too.”

Sam blushes. “That’s not true. She liked me plenty already.”

“And how’d you figure that out? By cornering her in the middle of Potions class? I saw the look on her face when you asked her out, by the way - like she spotted a shriveled newt.”

Gendry relaxes, realizing the conversation is shifting elsewhere. Someone puts the Weird Sisters on the radio; he finishes dressing with Sam and Grenn’s incessant bickering in the background and then walks, a bit self-consciously, down to the Gryffindor common room. Gendry doesn’t see Arya around, but that hardly surprises him. It’s still early in the evening. He’s sure she’ll find him at some point, maybe in the Great Hall.

“Oh, hello!” Gendry hears a voice say as he pushes the portrait of the Fat Lady open. He looks down and sees Sansa there, beaming expectantly up at him. She’s got a pretty periwinkle dress on, her hair all done up in fancy braids.

“Hello,” he replies, a bit startled. “Er, are you here for Podrick? He’s still getting ready, I think.”

“No,” she peeks around him, “I’m looking for Arya. I’m supposed to help her with her hair.”

“With her - you’re going to make her look like that?” Gendry exclaims. Sansa’s eyes widen, and she reaches up self-consciously to touch the complex hairstyle, a flush making its way across her cheeks. “Not - not that there’s anything wrong with that, you look very nice, it’s just-”

Sansa rolls her eyes at him in that way of hers, seeming especially disdainful tonight. “Gendry,” she interrupts him with a sickly sweet smile. “I’m going to go help my sister now, all right?”

“Right,” he says awkwardly, and holds the portrait open.

The Fat Lady titters lightly when Sansa’s gone. “It’s lucky she isn’t her sister.”

Gendry jumps in surprise. He’d almost forgotten she was there. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he says accusingly.

“Nothing at all.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Enjoy the Ball, dear!” the Fat Lady calls when Gendry starts towards the stairway in irritation. “Oh, and remember, there’s a new password after tonight - wattlebird!”

–

Ned Dayne’s dress robes are new, expensive, and dyed a deep lilac to match his eyes. Gendry glances at him, then down at the secondhand robes Anguy lent him. They’re not in bad shape, but they’re a bit old and moth-eaten and don’t fit him quite right around the shoulders.

As if hearing his thoughts, Ned sidles up to Gendry and leaves his date, Myrcella, chatting on the other side of the cloister with her friends.

“Waters,” he says, his voice surprisingly cordial.

“Dayne.”

“Arya isn’t here yet?” he asks, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “I hope she didn’t stand you up.”

Gendry grits his teeth, annoyed even though Ned’s tone doesn’t betray much malice. “She’s just getting ready,” he assures the Hufflepuff. “She’ll be here soon if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried,” Ned says, chuffing himself up a bit. “Actually,” he looks past Gendry’s shoulder. “There she is.”

Gendry’s facing the other way, so he hears Arya before she sees her, her voice raised in tinkling laughing as she descends down the staircase. Still, at the expression on Ned’s face he has to turn - so does everyone else in the cloister, as if pulled by a magic thread.

His first thought is that maybe Sansa does have an idea of how to do things after all. Because Arya looks lovely. Not lovely in the way Gendry usually thinks of her, flushed and smiling at him on the quidditch pitch, or muttering quietly to herself as she leafs through One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, but lovely all the same. Her light green dress sweeps along the floor as she reaches Ned and Gendry.

Upon closer inspection, there are golden leaves and acorns embroidered into the sleeves, and her dark hair - left surprisingly untouched - is woven through with grass.

She says one last thing to Sansa and watches her sister make her way over to Podrick, who has luckily resolved his eyebrow situation.

Arya turns to Gendry with a sheepish smile on her face. She mouths a quick hello to him, looking pleased when he returns the gesture. Then her gaze flicks over to Edric, a small ‘v’ shape forming between her eyebrows. “Hey, Ned.”

He perks up as soon as she addresses him - probably the same way he does every time she turns his way in N.E.W.T. Herbology. Could he be any more obnoxious?

“Hi, Arya! We were waiting for you. You look nice tonight, by the way, and I was-” He opens his mouth to ramble on, but then Arya purposefully talks over him.

“Thanks.” She gives him a slightly uncomfortable smile. “It’s so good to see you. But I thought you were here with someone…?”

“Oh. Yes. Myrcella.” They all turn in her direction, and Myrcella, blushing, waves at them. Gendry thinks that it’s too bad she’s going to the Ball with a ponce like Edric Dayne - Cella is sweet and looks very charming in her rose-pink dress, but she’s clearly oblivious to the fact that Ned doesn’t like her half as much as she likes him.

“I suppose I should go over to her,” Ned says, his voice betraying the fact that the idea doesn’t quite appeal to him. “She said something earlier about wanting to dance.”

“That’s a good idea!” Arya replies with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Listen, the Ball will probably be starting soon…I’ll talk to you later, all right?”

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she confesses to Gendry once Ned has slinked out of earshot. “And I’m sorry I took a while. The dress wouldn’t zip at first, and Meera had to magick it a size larger, and it’s so bloody itchy-”

“It’s okay, Arya.”

“Not really. I feel like an oak tree, with all these leaves and acorns.”

“Well, you look pretty,” he tells her with a hint of stiffness. “Better than either of the dunces from Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, anyways. Or - I don’t know - like a proper Champion.”

Her face softens a little. “Thank you, Gendry. You clean up nice, too. Is that Sleekeazy’s?” she laughs, reaching up to touch his usually tousled hair.

“Yes, it is,” he swats her hand away. “And I spent twenty minutes trying to get it like this, so hands off.”

“Twenty minutes? Really?”

From there the conversation drifts towards schoolwork, eventually devolving into Arya’s description of an elaborate quidditch play she came up with while curling her hair. Once Gendry glances over at Sansa, who raises an eyebrow at him as if to say, I told you it’d be fine.

A few minutes later Headmaster Seaworth breezes by, instructing them that it’s nearly time for the first dance.

“Yes, Headmaster,” they say in tandem. Arya takes Gendry by the arm and pulls him towards the aforementioned dunces from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang - a remark that Gendry feels a little bad about making now, since the Beauxbatons Champion, Daenerys, beams warmly at the both of them. He takes solace in the fact that Durmstrang’s Champion, a boy named Drogo, looks as surly and unfriendly as ever, though he brightens a little when Daenerys turns his way.

“Remember,” Arya whispers to Gendry, “I’ll kiss you when the dance is over.” The student orchestra starts to play, and she steers him forward.

But Gendry can’t help but balk a little, even though Drogo and his date are waiting for them to keep walking. “What, in front of everybody?” he hisses.

“Yes, Gendry,” she says as the set of double doors open into the Great Hall. “That’s sort of the whole point.”

There’s a round of polite applause when the Champions enter the Hall, and though Gendry already knew the Yule Ball would look fantastic, he can’t help but echo Arya’s sigh of awe.

The ceiling has been enchanted so that snowflakes drift down elegantly from a brilliant white sky, vanishing before they reach the floor; the long tables they usually sit at are gone and in their place are elegant round tables, decorated with holly wreathes and fairy cloths.

Daenerys leads the way towards the dance floor, her silver head held proudly high. Naturally, she attracts the most attention, but Anguy spots Gendry and waves at him with a toothy grin. Gendry waves back and then drops his hand back to his black dress robes nervously.

And just as he suspected, Ned Dayne is lingering on the edge of the dais, staring mournfully at Arya. Poor Myrcella.

“Gendry, take my waist,” Arya says as a dance begins.

He blinks at her. “What?”

“Now!” she laughs, and just as the music speeds up he manages to get one palm on her side, the other holding her hand as she spins away from him.

He knows the steps, at least; Headmaster Seaworth had drilled all the boys for hours on the traditional Yule dance, and Gendry had spent many uncomfortable hours in his Transfiguration class practicing with Myranda Royce. Arya though - Arya seems to actually enjoy it. She’s light on her feet and swift and seems to always know where to step, executing the dance more methodically than if it were a pastime.

“You’re good,” he says, a bit surprised.

She arches an eyebrow at him as he picks her up by the waist and sets her down again. “I was always good at dancing.”

Other bedazzled figures join them on the floor, gleaming gowns and shiny coattails whirling every which way. Gendry spots the Headmaster dancing with Madame Melisandre - there’s a dysfunctional pairing he’d never thought to see - and Sansa twirls past them in Podrick’s arms, whispering something to Arya that makes both girls snort with laughter.

The music ends. Somehow they end up crossing paths with Ned and Myrcella. Gendry lowers his eyes to Arya’s, asking a silent question. Now?

She chews her lip, looks at Edric, and then lifts herself up on tiptoe.

Before he can even really process it, his best friend is kissing him. One of his hands moves to her hair. It stays there to cradle the side of her face, his thumb resting right on her jaw.

And this. This is different than watching Arya tell Ned, no I would not like to go out on Hogsmeade weekend with you, I’ve got a boyfriend now; this is different from holding hands between classes; this is different from enduring Sansa’s teasing smirks and giving false answers about their relationship. Even though Arya keeps her lips stubbornly closed, Gendry kisses her back, feeling the heat from her skin and sensing the blush that must be persuasive as his own.

Something longing stirs deep inside him.

He wonders if Arya feels it, too.

She pulls away from him and clears her throat, averting her eyes discreetly to the side. Then she licks her lips and turns towards Ned, anticipating his reaction.

“I - um -”

“They’re starting a new dance,” Arya says neutrally, “you and Myrcella should keep going!” She grabs Gendry’s hand, firmly, and addresses him. “Come on, darling. Let’s go get some punch.”

–

“Darling?” Gendry returns after a moment away, carrying two glasses full of something pale and pink that fizzes slowly at the edges. He offers one to Arya; she sniffs it cautiously. “That wasn’t in the plan.”

“It’s what my mum calls my dad sometimes,” she laughs, “sorry, first thing I could think of.” He smirks and rubs his jaw, feeling the ghost of her lips on his. “What is this, anyway?”

“Punch, as you asked for.” Professor Selmy had assured him of that, though Gendry has his misgivings. They both take a sip. The drink is cold and fruity. It reminds him of his mother and of hot summer days when he was young.

“Squash,” he says absently.

Arya raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Uh, just a Muggle drink,” Gendry explains. “My mum used to make it for me. It tastes a bit like this.” Arya nods in understanding, discreetly rolling up her sleeves so they don’t fall into her cup. She looks a little silly that way, but Gendry’s not stupid enough to tell her.

“Did you want to keep dancing?” she says when her glass is empty. There are plenty of other students on the floor, but a fair amount are just standing around like they are, smiling at the enchanted sky.

“Not really.” Gendry winces. “No offense or anything.”

Arya shrugs. “None taken.” Then her eyes light up, and she grabs his arm. “Let’s go to the courtyard, then.”

“Arry, it’s snowing outside.”

“I’m used to the cold.”

“It must be freezing.”

“If the owls can take it, so can you!”

“It’s your Yule Bale, Arya, you’re the Champion.”

“I don’t mind leaving it.”

And, well, Gendry isn’t the one who had to wait an hour to get his hair and dress done, so he follows her as she sneaks quietly out into the gentle snowfall.

It’s all whiteness out there, the castle blanketed in a layer of snow and ice; Arya’s nose pinks slightly as they seat themselves in the porte cochère of the courtyard. She doesn’t look terribly cold, really, but Gendry still feels obligated to put the outer layer of his dress robes around her bare shoulders, leaving him in a plain white dress shirt.

“Oh, I don’t need it,” she starts, but he waves her off, crossing his arms to ward away the cold.

“Please. All that winter is coming shit doesn’t change the fact that it’s freezing out here.”

“As if I’ve ever said anything to the contrary.” Arya pulls out her wand and moves it in languid, clockwise circles. “Focillio.” A warm glow emits from the tip of the wand, undampened by the snow. Arya murmurs under her breath and the heat intensifies, enough that it illuminates both her and Gendry’s face in ruddy light.

She turns to Gendry and waves the wand in his face. He leans back, a bit afraid she’ll burn his nose off. “Impressive.”

“First-year Charms at work.” She warms her fingers gingerly; they both chuckle, their voices seeming far too loud in the empty courtyard.

Gendry hesitates, watching her profile in the moonlight, so long and reserved and elegant. He hopes his next question won’t irritate her. “So - have you had any luck with the clue?”

“The clue…” Arya frowns, brushing a snowflake out her face. She knots her hands together, her wand balanced between her knees. “Oh. No, not really. But I do have time, Gendry.”

“Not much.” He’s been counting the days on his fingers, the hours she has until the Second Task. “There’s only a few weeks to go now.”

She nods in acknowledgment. “I know that, and I am trying - but what am I supposed to make of it? It’s an egg, and it doesn’t tell me anything, just some bloody useless screaming. And Daenerys and Drogo don’t seem to understand it either, although-” she glances around and lowers her voice. “Daenerys did mention something to me about putting the egg in a bath.”

“A bath?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs. “She told me just this morning, actually. Apparently, something happens when you put it underwater.”

“So she took the dragon’s egg,” Gendry says skeptically, “and bathed it?”

“Yes.”

“It worked. That’s the clue.”

“Apparently. I know it sounds ridiculous.”

“Yeah, honestly, it does.” She’s usually so sharp. “Arya, have you ever heard of a thing called derailment?”

“Shut up.” Arya punches his shoulder, half-defeated. “It could be useful! More useful than whatever I’ve been doing, anyway.” She looks nervous, clouds of white seeping slowly from her lips. “Could we not talk about the Tournament, Gendry? Just for a day, and then I promise you can go back to badgering me about it.”

“Sure,” he says easily. “What else is on your mind?”

“Nothing.” That’s a lie. “All right. Something.” She turns towards him, fidgeting slightly, and it really is too cold out here. “I haven’t had time to thank you, Gendry.”

That, he hadn’t expected. “…for what?”

“For being my date tonight,” she explains, “and for being such a good boyfriend the past few weeks - fake boyfriend, it doesn’t even matter - when that was probably the most stupid, inconvenient thing I could’ve done to drive Ned away. I know you probably hated it. All the pretending we had to do. Plus the dancing,” she adds with a small laugh. “That was probably the worst part, right?”

“I didn’t hate the dancing,” Gendry says uncertainly. “Not really.”

“Well, that’s good.” Her voice is a bit thick. “But I also need to thank you for keeping me company during this stupid Tournament. My dad, when he…well, you know how hard it’s been without him. I only ever wanted to do this for him. I only ever wanted to win for him. And you’ve just been so wonderful.” She shakes her head. “My point is, real boyfriend or not, you’re the greatest person that I’ve ever met. I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone who’s better.”

“You don’t mean that,” Gendry says, more to himself than to Arya.

“Of course I do,” Arya says. “I’d do anything for you. And you’d do anything for me, right?”

That’s almost too simple. “Obviously.”

“Then,” she sucks in a quick breath of air. “Then would you kiss me, Gendry? If it’s all right with you?”

She had spoken so softly, he isn’t sure he heard her. “What?”

“Don’t make me say it again.” On some bizarre impulse, he reaches up, brushes away a stray strand of hair. Lets the soft pad of his thumb gently press on Arya’s cheek. Her eyes flick nervously to his. “I’d just - I don’t know. You did it earlier, and I liked it. Not because of Ned. I liked it, that’s all. I wouldn’t mind doing it twice. If that isn’t what you want-”

She’s rambling again, and Arya does not ramble. Before his mind can catch up to his racing heart, Gendry presses his lips to Arya’s, warm and soft and perfect. It’s not a deep kiss, no tongue, no biting. Just lips. Just lips and the feeling of Arya, of his best friend, of Arya and everything she is and can be.

She pulls away softly, straightening up tall once more. Her cheeks are tinged pink. Her smile has never been brighter.

“Did you really not mind the dancing?” she says inquisitively.

Gendry has to laugh. “I would’ve had to do that either way, Arya.” He leans forward, resting his forehead slightly on hers, and holds her small, small hand. “I’m glad it was with you.”

She nods and covers his palm with her own. Around them, the snow keeps falling.

–

a/n: this is not an ~amazing~ fill but high school finals are approaching (!!!) and i wanted to bang out one more prompt before i’m forced to commit myself to constant studying :/ my request box is always open if you like my writing - happy tuesday, and much love to you all 💖

#gendrya

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a-girl-must-have-a-new-name · 4 years

Text

When Jon had first met Gendry he had taken an instant liking to him. Maybe it was because Starks and Baratheons were always meant to be friends. Or maybe it was because there was something about being two bastards thrust into roles they never thought they’d have to worry about that brought them close. All Jon knew though was that he wanted Gendry by his side. He trusted him as much as Davos and that meant a great deal.

Still it was hard to remember all of that when you catch the man you’ve been calling a friend sneaking out of your younger sister’s bedroom early in the morning. Jon could only watch on in complete silence As Arya his sweet wild young sister pulled Gendry back into the doors threshold long enough to place a kiss on his lips quickly before shutting the door on Gendry’s stupid face. Jon moved out of the way not wanting to be seen, as he had to control his conflicted emotions. On one hand Jon wanted to use longclaw right then and there to run through Gendry. On the other hand Jon knew he was being a hypocrite. Hadn’t he done the same with Ygritte? With Danny? The threat of the white walkers loomed over them and no one could say confidently how long they had for this world so who was he to stop his beloved sister from any happiness she could receive?

Besides he knew Gendry’s worth. He was a good man, a good friend. And he had known of Gendry’s and Aryas’ history. well only a little bit. Neither mentioned much of their time together, only that they wouldn’t have been alive if it wasn’t for the other. But obviously there was more to it than that.

So Jon began watching them. Watched when Arya, who was so different from the little girl he’d left behind. Who seemed to carry all the darkness and secrets of the world on her shoulders, would smile and joke easily when Gendry was around. Jon was glad to see that, that easy happy nature was still in her. He watched how the sullen look that seemed permanently etched on Gendry’s dirty face would instantly melt away as Arya drew close. The looks of adoration and protectiveness he sent her way told Jon all he needed to know. However that didn’t stop him from needing to hear it for himself.

“You, I need to talk to you.” Gendry stiffened for only a minute as he felt the weight of Jon’s hand on his shoulder. Looking around to see the concern etched on his king's face Gendry could only nod in agreement. Instructing the men working tirelessly in the forge to continue on with making the dragon glass weapons, he followed Jon out into the biting cold.

Jon was silent for a while instead of speaking out right he opted to walk with Gendry inspecting the on goings of the castle as he did. Pausing now that they were alone overlooking their surroundings at a gate post Jon caught Gendry smiling to himself.

“What’s got you laughing?”

“Just how similar you and your sister are.” Gendry watched as Jon’s eyes softened, at the comparison of his beloved sister. However Jon held back his smile as he forced his famous scowl and eyed his friend warily

“I hope not too similar, after all as much as I like you Gendry I don’t want you in my bed.” At Gendry's sputtering and choking Jon had to turn away to keep from chuckling.

“I- Your grace it’s not. I mean” Gendry was panic stricken looking around wildly whether for a trap, or even a possible escape route Jon didn’t know but he held back his smile for a few more moments enjoying his friends' panic. However when it looked like Gendry was contemplating jumping over the wall to get away from him Jon finally gave him mercy.

“It’s fine Gendry. Am I happy it happened like this? No. but I won’t try to stop you two. Besides it’s clear to me how close you two are. You said that Arya and I are similar, correct?” at Gendry’s nod Jon continued.

“Yes we are similar, but it’s always been more than that. Arya’s been the one person that I could always count on, the only one I’ve ever been able to be completely honest with and up until now I thought it was the same for her.”

“I-” Gendry was struggling to come up with words however Jon continued on knowing he had to get this off his chest.

“But I know now that it’s not. I can’t begin to imagine what the both of you went through together. Nor what Arya dealt with while she was in Braavos. I know my sister well enough to know that those are things she will keep from Sansa and myself, and won’t dare speak with Bran about. But She trusts these secrets to you Gendry. So I will trust you with her.”

“I promise I have no intention to ever leave her or hurt her again my king.”

“I believe you Gendry and I am happy that it’s you she’s chosen. But be warned if we all survive this, you two will have to tell Sansa about what you two have been doing and I suspect she will be less accepting than I am. At the very least a wedding will be demanded.”

“Oh she knows already.” Gendry spoke with such casualty, Jon wondered if he had misheard him.

“She knows?”

“Yes, she uh- she caught us a few weeks ago.”

“Weeks ago?” Jon wondered just how long he had missed the signs, He tried to ignore the annoying thought that came to him suddenly along with the memory of Ygritte’s laugh, yes it felt like she was laughing at him even now.

“Yes, she actually handled it even better than you, I think the only thing she was truly upset about was the fact that she caught us in the grain room. Complained about contaminating the food preserves.” Gendry laughed as he patted Jon on the back walking away from the stunned man. Not realizing his revelation left Jon mortifyingly paralyzed. It wasn’t until breakfast the next day when Danny questioned why he hadn’t touched his meal, on top of her overall concerns over his general tiredness that Jon could come out of his stupor. Though only because he could hear the low chuckle of Sansa sitting across from him.

He blinked blearily at his half sister, trying to ignore the mounting headache he was becoming oh so familiar with when dealing with Sansa. Who for her own part smiled deviously at him as she passed half of her food over to him.

“Yes Jon eat up, we can't have you losing your strength. Right Arya? It would be horrible for Jon to train today on an empty stomach, yes?”

Arya, who up until that moment was not so secretly flirting with Gendry from across the hall, turned to look at the two of them studying Sansa’s mischief and Jon’s discomfort before grinning wolfishly herself.

“Of course, only some one stupid would train on an empty stomach. Also Jon I know for a fact that this meal was made with a little extra love, so you should really try and finish it.” Jon, who had taken a sip of ale in a feeble attempt to deflect began to suddenly choke, gasping for breath as Arya ignored him and continued. “ Wouldn’t want to hurt the cook’s feelings.”

“They’re right Jon.” Danny addressed giving him a stern once over, “You shouldn’t waste this food. Especially with how little everyone has.” Jon exasperatedly looked around the room. Bran was sitting at the opposite end of the table being of absolutely no help yet looked suspiciously as though he too was in on it and enjoying the show. Looking out into the hall he spotted Gendry, who had clearly been trying to listen in and at least had the decency to blush before shrugging his shoulders as if to say “Eh what can you do?”

Jon feeling like a petulant child brought the gruel closer towards him as he pushed the food around with his spoon waiting for a chance to toss it to Ghost. As he waited he thought that maybe going up against the Night King wouldn’t be so bad, he’d have to be more merciful than this lot.

Arya having had her fun and seeing that Jon was at his limit rose asking Sansa and Danny to join her. Claiming she wanted to train with them for a bit. Both women readily agreed, all thoughts of food wasting forgotten. Relief and gratitude flowed through Jon. This was why Arya would always be his favorite. He silently nodded his head in thanks to her. She winked at him before turning away, as they stood to leave Sansa turned to Jon once more.

“If you must know, I had the bags they were rolling around on removed.” Jon looked skeptically at the bowl before him before turning to eye Sansa. Jon eyed her searching for deception when he felt secure enough that her words were the truth he took a giant spoonful, then another. It wasn’t good at all but food was food. Sansa, satisfied to see her brother eating, began to leave wanting to catch up with Arya and Danny. Only pausing long enough to say one final thing. Mirth glinting in her tully eyes.

“Honestly, Jon it’s not that big of a deal, at least you aren’t Bran, imagine he has to tune them out all the time. Why just the other day he caught them in your room.”

“Excuse me?!” Jon spat out gruel flying across the table as he looked accusingly towards Gendry who had suspiciously disappeared right after Arya. Looking towards Bran only to have his brother stare back blankly at him, giving nothing away. Jon cursed, pushing himself out from the table and away from the hall looking for longclaw. Forget what he had said last night. He was going to kill both Gendry and Arya, favorite sister be damned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I did it! didn’t think I’d get it done to be honest.I won’t lie I’m very happy with the way it turned out. just wanted something light and fun to get me back in the mood again! Hope y’all enjoyed it as well!

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alltheworldsinmyhead · 4 years

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OUR LOVE FULL OF STORMS

gendrya modern marriage/family au // ao3

She has never been a Sansa, but she had it all more-or-less under control. So surely, having a family was supposed to be something else? Surely, there’s someone else to blame, cause it’s impossible that it’s just her fucking up to such a spectacular degree? // After the birth of their second child, Arya's and Gendry's marriage hits a speed bump

And in the sea of our shared life

I try to count the islands of sorrow

And velvet reefs

Of when we were so happy

I can see our trees

Bent by the winds of time

I know so well

Our love filled with storms

It sometimes cuts

Both ways like a sword

And leaves deep wounds on you and me

Living together is hard

Being apart kills me

I think we’ll always be

So tangled up in one another

Shared address, shared kids, our dreams

So help me go back to those days again

- Na Sen, Urszula

ARYA

Nan started teething.

Nan started teething and it was the straw the broke Arya’s back. Because her daughter could not, would not stop wailing every waking minute of the day and because Lucas has, once again, started biting other kids in the daycare, and because her husband seemed to be completely unaffected by the fact that neither he or she could recall when was the last time they had sex – all of that resulted in Arya sitting, fully-clothed, in an empty bathtub and pondering on how this mess is her life now.

Like, there must be some explanation. Chances are though, she will never find it because just as she’s about to bang her head against the tiles, small fists start banging on the closed door.

‘’Mommy? Mommy, Nan’s crying.’’

Of course she is. She hardly does anything else these days.

She can hear it, even though the nursery is on the opposite side of the flat. Thin, piercing shrills, not yet as desperate as to require Arya’s immediate attention… but getting there soon.

A single drop of water drips on Arya’s socked feet. The sink has been leaking for weeks now, but of course, to get Gendry to do anything lately requires at least a formal administrative letter, so it’s bound to continue leaking until she fixes it herself. She could do it, but she won’t, purely out of spite. Between her and her husband, only one of them sleeps more than four hours at night, so she reasons that this exact person should be the one to fix the goddamned sink-

‘’Mommy!’’

‘’I’m coming, I’m coming,’’ she grumbles, climbing out of the bathtub with a sigh. Her breasts hurt like a bitch, which probably means it’s nursing time anyway. One thing she has to give to Nan; her daughter has absolutely no problem with eating regularly.

When she opens the door, Lucas immediately wraps his arms around her leg like a little monkey, effectively immobilizing her for a second.

‘’Let go, Luke.’’

‘’No!’’

It’s his new favorite words, so she probably shouldn’t be surprised.

‘’You told me yourself that Nan’s crying.’’ She says, trying to keep her voice calm, but instead just ends up sounding dead tired. ‘’You need to let me go, so I could take care of her.’’

‘’You’re with Nan always, play with me.’’

‘’Luke, we’ve talked about this-‘’

‘’No!’’

‘’Nan’s little, she needs me-‘’

‘’I’m little too!’’

He’s not, not really; he’s already the tallest in his daycare group and continues to shot up, which makes buying him clothes a never-ending nightmare. But he still has those chubby cheeks and baby curls, and still loves monopolizing attention like nothing else in the world, underfoot at all times. And Arya hasn’t got nearly enough energy to fight him on that, so instead of carrying out with the battle of stamina with a four-year-old, she hoists Luke up and settles him on her hip.

‘’We’ll go to Nan together, okay?’’

‘’And then we play?’’ he sniffles, raising his blue eyes to her and she finds herself mindlessly nodding in confirmation.

She steps on several Legos on her way, but Nancy’s crying so hard now, that she barely registers it. The only things she can really focus on, are the aching pressure in her breasts and the fact that she has just ruined yet another nursing bra with milk stains. Also, Luke’s very heavy in her arms, especially when he stops holding on and just sags like a ragdoll against her with his head thrown back and limp limbs.

She practically drops him on the armchair in the nursery, rushing to the crib. Nan has turned on her belly and her little black head bobs as she’s throwing a fit, her face all red from anger. Arya loves her children more than life itself, but she finds herself, more often than not, lamenting at her choice of their father. Reproducing with someone mild-mannered would surely at least dull her own less-desired characteristics and result in sweet, easy kids, like Sansa’s. But no – she had to go and pick the only guy in the world more stubborn than her. And then allow him to get her pregnant. Twice, as if Luke was not hard enough to handle on his own. The fool-proof tactic, truly.

The wailing dies down considerably when Arya reaches inside the crib and picks Nan up, holding her with one hand and unbuttoning her blouse with another. When she was breastfeeding Luke, she had to stuff her boob inside his mouth as if it was a hamburger and she’s glad that at least she does not need to re-live this experience. Nan latches onto her nipple instantly, making her wince from pain, but at least she’s not crying anymore; her little body relaxes in Arya’s arms and her eyelids shut close. Nan’s an awfully pretty baby and it’s a pleasure to look at her when she’s not screaming; but unfortunately, Arya does not take Luke into account as she drops down on the armchair.

She closes her eyes for a second. Just one, tiny second of bliss. And then-

Nan stops eating and lets out the most horrific, high-pitched yell Arya has ever heard in her life.

‘’Lucas!’’

Oh, she’s angry now. Truly and really.

Her son’s blushing red when he scrambles to the floor in a desperate attempt to run away, but Arya was a fencing champion in college. Her hand shots out and grabs his collar, yanking him back.

‘’Why did you do that?’’ she asks, bouncing Nancy up and down in a desperate attempt to calm her down. ‘’Why did you pinch her?’’

‘’You promised we’ll play!’’

‘’She had to finish-‘’

‘’I don’t like her!’’ Luke stomps his feet down loudly, still struggling to get free of Arya’s grip. ‘’I want her gone! It was better without her!’’

Arya swallows hard, loosening her fingers around the material of Luke’s shirt.

‘’Go to your room.’’ She commands weakly. ‘’We’ll talk about it later.’’

As Lucas runs away, she pushes her nipple back into Nancy’s mouth to silence her and takes a few deep breaths. She could go and punish Lucas, or better, she could go and talk to Lucas. But what she was supposed to say to him? Hey kid, I know that it was easier when you were an only child. But you know what? It was even easier when you were not here at all and it was just me and your dad!

She doesn’t even notice that she’s crying until Nan falls back asleep on her breast.

---------------------------------------------read more on ao3-------------------------------------

#gendrya #gendrya fanfiction #gendrya fic #gendryxarya #gendrya au #asoiaf fanfiction #got fanfiction

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januarywren · 4 years

Text

I just posted a theonsa fic with a hint of jonsa - Jon is a jealous, jealous man. 😶💘 Here’s a link to it on ao3, and I’ll post the drabble below too! Thank you for reading, I’d love to know your thoughts.

The sound of familiar laughter made Jon's stomach roll, as he shoved his plate from him. He had no interest in the feast, nor the Northern women that twittered and passed by him. There was only one that he wanted to take in hand, one that he wanted to whisper and laugh with and wipe sugary powder from her cheeks.

Sansa –

Who hasn't looked at him once, let alone twice.

Jon had little interest in talking to the lords that surrounded him, nor did he wish to think of the coming war. There were moments when he could pretend that Cersei had no influence, and Daenerys no place in their world. There were moments still when he imagined that the White Walkers had never existed at all, leaving him to stay by Sansa's side.

He wanted to kneel at her feet and give her everything the Boltons and the Lannisters had taken from her and rest the crown on her head. He wanted her to have everything and never feel as if she had nothing again.

He wanted her to feel safe, and sound.

There was a time when Jon had concerned himself only with his sister turned cousin; the only woman to fill his heart with courage and show him the value of honeyed words. He never imagined he would be in the same room yet be far from her as if she had wandered far past the Wall. She hadn't called for him nor opened her rooms to him, as she had in the beginning; no, it was like there was never intimacy between them at all.

Jon felt his heart quicken at the thought of how she'd accepted him as a Stark, regardless of his true blood. It was the acceptance that Catelyn had denied him, and he felt free from the shame of illegitimacy and having no place in Winterfell. Sansa accepted him, welcomed him even - where had it all gone wrong?

Arya slammed her tankard beside his, ale sloshing over the brim.

“Arya!” Jon barked.

For once he had little patience for his favorite sister –

His only sister, a voice that he knew well, whispered. It was a voice that he feared, the voice of the flames that tumbled and leaped inside him. “That face you’re making reminds me of a horse’s arse,” Arya said loudly, thinking little of the glances they received from the lords around them.

The halls of Winterfell were home to the Starks again, as Jon and Arya saw their troops return to their homes, after the death of the Night King. Theon had stayed behind, guarding Sansa and the rest of the women and children that stayed at Winterfell.

Jon and Arya had stumbled into the courtyard with blood on their furs, and the stench of war around them. They were hungry and cold, like the men that followed behind them, yet they were safe and sound once more. Sansa had received them with open arms once more, with Theon, of all people, beside her.

A man that Jon knew the same as his own name and distrusted the same.

“Theon,” Jon said, his lips curling about the name. It was one that he wished he never had to say again, regardless of how the man had begged forgiveness for his sins.

His betrayal, to all of them.

“When did this happen?” he asked his sister, nodding toward the high table where Sansa resided. Theon was beside her, with his dark curls tamed and gaze meeting hers. They were as close as they could be, without Sansa sitting in his lap, and his arms wrapped around her. Theon bowed his head when Sansa whispered something into his ear, and Jon flinched at the sheer intimacy between them.

They made a pretty picture, one that taunted and tugged at his insides.

It’d taken mere days for Jon to observe firsthand how Theon clung to his queen's skirts, following her through every hall and room as if he were a Stark in truth. He was Greyjoy, one that had been given away without promise of future kingship.

He wasn’t fit to sit at her table, he had little place residing within Winterfell’s walls.

Jon gritted his teeth, as he felt Sansa's gaze flit to his before she looked away. Nothing was the same between them after the Dragon Queen had entered their lives.

His aunt –

Jon was torn between laughter and despair, as an anguished cry rose in his throat. He felt an ache in his chest when he observed Sansa, and how she’d closed herself away from him. If things had stayed as they were before, Jon would have remained at her side.

At the head of the table, with her hand clasped in his beneath the table.

“He makes her happy,” Arya said, addressing his earlier question. She pursed her lips as she leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table and holding her head in her hands.

She had never been close with her elder sister, yet upon their return to Winterfell, Arya felt herself wanting to know Sansa as she never had before. (And Gendry’s suggestion that she should had nothing to do with it. Nothing.)

“I don’t understand it myself, but Sansa…Sansa isn’t like us, you know. She needs someone with her.”

“Doesn’t she have Brienne?” Jon replied, the words tasting like ash on his tongue. He had little desire to look inside himself and ask why he loathed the sight of Theon beside Sansa, or why he dreamed of her at night. He didn’t want to think about how he’d traced the shape of her lips with his tongue, or how silky her fire-kissed hair felt against his skin.

They had only a handful of nights together, yet it meant more to Jon than any other he had known. That he had loved. He swallowed at the thought, and drank from his tankard, ignoring the burn in his throat.

There were countless things he longed not to remember, nor to forget.

“It isn’t the same,” Arya said, “Brienne is nothing like Theon, and you know that, Jon,” she muttered beneath her breath. She couldn’t help but think her brother had spent too much time with the Dragon Queen, with his brain shriveling inside him.

And Jon found himself nodding, with the bile inside him mounting. “Aye,” he acknowledged, forcing the words from his lips, “I do.”

(By the Gods, he didn't wish to.)

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samaraclegane · 5 years

Note

Okay umm I have a prompt... Arya finds out she's pregnant.

author’s note: …is it weird if i say i’ve already thought about this. just a little i swear! but anyway, regardless of MY issues, here’s your prompt in action anon. hope it doesn’t disappoint!

-she can’t believe it.

-it’s just her luck, to have this happen now, of all times. it would be her, wouldn’t it?

-she’s been a woman for some time now. a rather late bloomer (in all things, not only this), she first got her moonblood in braavos, and had to deal with it all herself.

-the fact that her mother never had the proper chance to teach her all about it probably didn’t help. her mother, a lady herself of course, had bore five children, and so arya knew she must have known all about it. she had heard bits and pieces when sansa had received the dreaded talk, but hadn’t had it herself as she was too young in her parents’ eyes to know of such things.

-arya couldn’t blame them entirely. she had gathered more information, she knew how it worked and why, and she knew of ways to prevent it. but then, in the heat of the moment, she had forgotten it all - everything she had collected thrown out of the window of her mind - and she’d lain with gendry, carelessly and brilliantly.

-she did not regret this. given a hundred more chances, she could not say she would choose to not seek out gendry and make love to him. only now, with hindsight, she would most certainly have considered the repercussions of such actions, and taken defenses to prevent this from happening.

-now, though, she knows. a woman’s intuition, perhaps, because as she’s missed her blood this rotation, something is far from right. she’s panicking, of course, but not for the reasons many ladies might be.

-she isn’t necessarily afraid of what it means. seven hells, she’s been stabbed in the gut and bled out enough times to know what pain is like, so the birthing process itself does not frighten her. the idea of carrying a child is new, most foreign, but not something that upsets her.

-most of all, a highborn lady such as herself might fear what the father’s status may do to her child’s reputation. gendry was a bastard, albeit the bastard of king robert, but a bastard all the same. she knew this, yet it did not frighten nor deter her.

-women she had known had lost babies, both intentionally and unintentionally. she saw the distraught the latter went through, and even some times the former. she knew from the instant she realised she was pregnant that she could not terminate it, even if it inhibited her.

-what she disliked the most about the newly learned fact was the implications it would have on her utility in the coming wars. she had just recently helped defend the crypts with her brother and his men. she knew, not to be big-headed, that she had aided them in a crucial time. what was to become of them, should she be too far along to help? what then?

-her panic settled in and she first sought council from the only person in winterfell she felt could be wholly trusted with such dangerous information, except for gendry himself.

-she found her sister in her quarters, readying the plans she and jon had concurred with. she heard the door that signaled her sister’s entrance, and so set down her work and welcomed arya.

-arya remained stilted, fearful, and downright lost as to how to begin such a conversation. though she trusted sansa with her life, she had never expected to have to spring such news on to her. in fact, she had always anticipated the alternative happening. after all, sansa was the daughter that dreamed of golden-haired babies and a protective, strong husband - not arya.

-”arya?” sansa called to her, brow furrowing as she analysed her sister’s dazed look, “arya, are you feeling alright?”

-arya met her sister’s blue eyes, and saw the warmth behind the icy stare. she swallowed past the lump in her throat, and managed to form the key words.

-”i’m pregnant.”

-sansa’s stance immediately changed. she did not become standoffish, though she became more serious than she had been. she dropped her gaze to arya’s belly, then brought it back up.

-”you’re certain?”

-realistically, no woman could ever be certain of a pregnancy until she gave birth and held the child in her arms. however, being a sure as she could without being in that situation, arya nodded limply, head feeling as though it could fall from its place at any moment.

-sansa nodded back, in acknowledgement. she paused only briefly, and then said, “we won’t tell the others, at least not now.”

-”thank you.”

-arya could not say why she was thanking sansa, because she knew beforehand that she would not betray her. however, hearing the words aloud, knowing that her secret was open yet safe for the time being, made her feel overwhelming gratitude towards her sister.

-”gendry?”

-arya almost fell over. had she misheard? no, certainly not, because there was one of sansa’s rare smirks, stretched wide over her porcelain skin. she watched arya, awaiting an answer that her sister was sure she already knew, based solely on her question.

-”yes,” she responded, unable to withhold the small smile of her own that began forming, even despite her initial shock.

-”good,” sansa nodded at her, then gestured towards her stomach. “now go and tell him.”

-it took arya no more than this single order to obey. she retreated back out of the room, sparing a second to smile thankfully at sansa who returned the gesture. she thought to herself absently as she made her way to the forge, where she expected gendry would be at this time of day - and, come to think of it, any time of day.

-along the way, she began wondering how the pregnancy would change her, and the world and people around her. she could remember how her mother changed around babies, both her own (arya was too young to remember bran’s, though she remembered snippets of her mother with rickon) and those of ladies around the city.

-it seemed that, even in these ultimate trying times, there was some good to be found in the unexpected event.

-once outside of gendry’s workstation, she stopped a moment to breathe and recollect herself. yet again she had spared no thought as to how she would deliver the news, which she supposed was a rather important aspect as she was now going to tell the father of the child himself. oh well…

-she crept inside of the forge, hearing the smashing of heated metal and the roaring flames of a hot fire. she instantly felt the warmth and understood why gendry had no issue working in such a place, when the world was so cold. she smiled softly - so unlike her usual self - when she spotted him, working on yet another dragonglass dagger.

-she moved to stand some distance away, taking a moment to admire him before he sensed her presence through unintelligible means. he turned around to face her, and she did not miss how his eyes glistened as he did so.

-”arya,” he breathed as he began setting down his things hastily, then enveloped her into his arms. did he know already?

-”gendry,” her voice returned, just as airy, with an adoring tone to it. she both loathed how feeble it made her seem, but loved how sincere it was of her. it was admittedly a nice change after having to feign constant nonchalance in the house of black and white.

-”you look determined, m’lady,” she twinged at the memory of what he had said all those years ago, about them never being family. she felt suddenly dejected, but did not let him see. “might i ask, what is your mission?”

-she knew he was being insincere in his tone and manner of speech, but the atmosphere simply felt wrong to tell him such life-changing, world-shattering news. she ignored his question and took herself to sit on a nearby bundle of something or other, wrapped up neatly in a bag. it was far from comfortable, but it was sufficient.

-gendry followed close behind her, immediately sensing something was wrong. “arya?”

-he kneeled before her, trying to have her meet his eye, but she refused. after all, how could she do such a thing, when she hadn’t even thought how to approach the topic? this was their child, and she swore she wouldn’t throw the information into a conversation without at least some consideration of how to address it.

-he took her hands softly, running his blackened thumbs over her knuckles. he almost looked like he wanted to bend down and kiss them, only he refrained. she could not say why he did so.

-”arya,” he repeated her name, as though it were a mantra, “could you talk to me?”

-it wasn’t aggressive. he wasn’t trying to irk her, as he had done for so much of their relationship. his voice was earnest, and this made her finally look up at him. she knew she looked sheepish, guilty of something, but he soon understood when she spoke, uttering only two words in a tamed little voice.

-”i’m pregnant.”

-she had said it before with conviction, knowing it was something she wanted her sister to know. but now, the more she considered the impact it could have on gendry and his work, and his willingness to fight and risk any of their lives in such a way, the less and less she wanted to tell him at all.

-it was when she hit the point of considering telling him much later on in her pregnancy that it was some other man’s that she knew it was time to act, and frankly. that was why she had told him, overcome by some greater conscience, and now awaited his response.

-”you’re…” his eyes were wide, and his thumbs had stopped dead in their tracks, though he had not dropped her hands. “really?”

-her eyes moistened and she smiled, not through happiness nor sadness, but something entirely other. she nodded to him, holding his gaze, “really.”

-he paused, then his eyes dropped. as sansa had done, he looked at her stomach, and she could practically see his mind whirring. she rather humorously considered that, if this was the reaction she would get every time, she might reconsider revealing the pregnancy at all, at least until the birth.

-then, her hands were dropped.

-her heart fell with them, fearing the worst had happened, but when there was a new warmth pouring into her belly - eminating from the palms of the smith’s hands - she physically relaxed. she began smiling as he felt for a sign of movement.

-”you can’t feel anything this early, you know-”

-”we’re bonding,” gendry stated seriously, and arya barked out a laugh.

-”you’re mad,” she said lovingly, “absolutely mad. you know that, gendry?”

-he looked up at her, eyes all gooey like sansa’s had been, all those years ago, when she looked at the prince - like she loved him, and he loved her. he outlined her face with his eyes, then brought his hands from her belly to cup her face sweetly. he tipped up on his heels, bring his face before hers.

-”so are you,” he said, and continued, “then we’ve got a good chance that they’ll be too, yeah?”

-he kissed her without a verbal response, but she took the time to think of what he meant. in her worry, she hadn’t taken any time to consider the child as it was: a public declaration of their union. whether it would be a bastard or not arya did not care, as she wondered more whether it would have his hair (most probable) or hers, and whether it would swear as much as she did, and whether it would enjoy weaponry as they both did.

-her train of thought reached an abrupt end when he pulled away, still maintaining a hold of her face. he held her gaze, and she spoke her thoughts aloud, in a hushed voice.

-”you’re not allowed to play favourites,” she threatened jokingly, and stole his hands’ place on her stomach, replacing his with her own. he followed the movement, but did not make a motion to move her.

-”as you wish,” he said, and pulled her back in, tucking his face into her neck and breathing, like a pillar of solidity for her to rest all her qualms on.

-unexpected? most definitely. a little inconvenient with timing? yes. something she’d never thought she’d ever want? absolutely. but with this man, nothing she feared seemed so bad.

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dragongoddess13 · 5 years

Text

Marvelous Maisie Month Part III

Delayed Reaction

It was the last time she would ever listen to Sansa. She couldn’t believe she had actually believed her sister. Despite all evidence to the contrary, she had actually believed that Sansa was trying to help her, that she was finally willing to be the sister Arya never felt Sansa wanted to be to her. She would never make that mistake again.

Arya’s story was a tale as old as time. She and her best friend, Gendry Waters, had been inseparable for years. Since they were in grade school and at some point in their friendship, Arya suddenly realized that some of the weird feelings she had when he was around were because she liked him as more than a friend. The problem was, Gendry was a safe port in the stormy sea that was her life and she was hellbent on not fucking that up. So she buried it all deep down inside her and locked it away with all the other things she refused to address (like the distance she felt from her siblings sometimes, or how she felt like a disappointment to her mother, or how she always felt out of place in her own skin and all her personability was just her way of covering that up). But as they got older it became harder and harder to push it away. Gendry was growing into an attractive young man. There were girls lusting after him all the time. A day doesn't go by that one of their classmates doesn’t try to flirt with him, or ask him out, and Arya knew if she didn’t say something she would have to start distancing herself from him to protect herself from the inevitable pain of watching him with someone else.

It was Sansa who convinced her that he felt the same and that she should say something to him. She pushed Arya for months to tell him how she felt. At first she was suspicious. She and Sansa barely tolerated each other on a good day, she couldn’t imagine why she would want to help her now. But the more she pushed the more Arya started to think, hope, that she really wanted to help, that she really wanted to be her sister despite years of telling her otherwise. So, she listened. She told Gendry how she felt and she watched the shock filter across his face, her hope fading with every second too long it took for his to answer. She silently begged him to say something, anything, but when he did, she wished he hadn’t said anything at all.

Thank you. Who says thank you when their best friend admits they’ve had a crush on them for years. Gendry Waters that’s who. Big, stupid, Gendry Waters, who was fit and handsome and popular despite his quiet, broody nature. Gendry Waters who called her Arry and laughed at all of her stupid jokes and never took her shit and always gave back as much as he took. Gendry Waters who was there for her everytime she felt like the world was caving in around her, who held her while she sobbed after she was stood up for her first date. Gendry Waters, the boy who made her feel like she wasn’t some ugly toad her parents got stuck with, who reminded her that she wasn’t weird for not liking the things her sister did. Gendry Waters, who carved out a place in her heart when they were six years old and he helped her defend one other their classmates, a boy who would become just as good a friend, from a bunch of bullies.

Gendry Waters who said thank you when she told him that she’d had feelings for him for years and was too afraid to tell him. Who stood there dumbly before even saying that much.

“Arya?” Sansa’s voice filters through her bedroom door before it opens enough for to poke her head through. Arya looks up, glaring at her sister, tears staining her face. “Of seven, what happened?” she continues, opening the door enough for her to step in.

“Get out.” Arya grinds out through clenched teeth.

“What…”

“I said get out!” she yells. Sansa stands in the doorway, eyes wide. “I trusted you! You said he felt the same. I fucking trusted you!” Arya jumps up from the bed, storming toward the door. She shoves Sansa back. “I thought you finally wanted to be my sister, I thought we were going to be okay now, I thought you really wanted to help and I trusted you. I’ll never make that mistake again.” she doesn’t wait for an answer, slamming the door in her face. She moves back to her bed, collapsing on the mattress face down. It’s not long before she hears Sansa again.

“Arya please, open the door. Tell me what happened.” she calls through the old wood. “I swear, he does, everyone can see it. Please just talk to me.”

“Go away!”

And she does. Arya spend the next few days avoiding everyone. She refuses to answer her phone, especially when Gendry calls, she won’t eat dinner with the family, she won’t even talk to her father or Jon about what happened. She just needs to get through a few days and then she’ll be off to camp for the next month. She’ll go away and everything will blow over and maybe when she gets back they can pretend she didn’t make a fool of herself in front of her best friend; that she didn’t trust the sister that’s spent almost all of their lives wishing Arya had never been born and reminding her that she didn’t belong. And through all of this she doesn’t let herself think about the fact that Sansa started crying when she said all of those things because that would mean acknowledging that maybe Sansa did want to help and she just misread the situation. Like everything else she would lock it up and bury it deep, letting it fester until she couldn’t even look at it anymore.

xXx

Arya spends the first week of camp in a funk. She goes about her activities, but the friends she made years ago, the last time she was here, don’t know what’s happened and they can’t help her if she won’t talk to them, and she doesn’t. She just wants it to go away and she’s convinced herself that talking about it will only make it worse.

Gendry hasn’t tried to call her since the morning she left and she tries not to dwell on the pain that thought brings her. So she pushes it aside and just takes everything one day at a time.

One movie night two weeks into her stay, she begs off early to use the showers in private. It’s rare anyone gets the opportunity and Arya likes to take advantage when she can. She takes her time, enjoying the warm water and letting all her troubles wash down the drain. When she finishes, she dries, wraps her towel around her and steps out of the stall, only to yelp in surprise when she finds someone leaning against the sink.

“Gendry?” she asks confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you?”

“So you drove all the way up here?” she sounds incredulous, but there’s a little part of her, a part that sounds suspiciously like Sansa, cooing over how romantic that is.

“What else was I supposed to do? You won’t answer my calls.”

She deflates a bit, rolling her eyes and stepping passed him. “Why would I, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Nothing… Are you kidding me? We have a lot to talk about.” he replies, turning to face her as she steps up to the counter. He watches as she grabs her brush, running it through her wet hair.

“No, we really don’t. I don’t need to hear anything, okay? Just go home and when I get back we can just pretend it never happened.”

“I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen, I want to talk about this.”

“We don’t need to talk about it.” she insists. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say about it. Okay, I get it, you don’t feel the same, I’ll get over it, let’s just move on.”

“No.”

“Why not?” she asks. She’s bordering on whining now, but she can’t help it. She just wants this conversation to be over. She wants him to leave her to brooding so she can work on forgetting the biggest embarrassment of her life.

“Because I do feel the same way.” he tells her, he practically shouts it at her and she’s so surprised she struggles to process what he’s just said.

“What?” she breathes.

“I said, I do feel the same. I like you too. I have for awhile I just didn’t realize it until you said something and I had the chance to think about it.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think I understand.”

He sighs. “Okay, so...I’ve always known you were special to me, there’s very little I wouldn’t do for you. If you called me tomorrow to help you hide a body I would be there in a heartbeat, no questions asked. I hated watching you date other people, and I told myself it was because I didn’t want to lose my best friend. And when I was the one with a girlfriend and anytime anything good happened to me, you were the one I thought of to call first, not them. I thought it was just because you were my best friend, but… after what you said, when I couldn’t think of anything else to say, I really thought about it and I realized that’s why. That’s why I didn’t like any of your boyfriends and why you were always my first call, for anything. I feel the same way.”

She doesn’t think about it, she just reacts, colliding with him, her lips on his and her hands coming up to grip his face. He responds in kind, hands on her hips, fingers digging into her skin through the towel. He’s got her back up against the counter in one second and is lifting her to sit on the counter in the next. Her legs are around his hips, keeping him boxed in against her.

He pulls away to catch his breath and she follows instinctively, latching onto the side of his neck. “Fuck Arry.” he curses, tugging at the ends of her wet hair to pull her back. “I think we should slow down a little.” he chuckles at her pout. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better. I mean I’m in a towel, it doesn’t get any easier than this for you.”

He looks pained at her words, looking her over in said towel. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he leans against the counter, hands on either side of her. She grins at the effect she has on him.

“Two weeks.” he says. “I’ll pick you up from the bus stop.”

“Don’t be late.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” he tells her, kissing her hard. He trails his lips to her neck, sucking a mark into her skin and grinding up against her until she panting, on the verge of begging. He pulls away abruptly, stepping back. She’s flushed and short of breath, her eyes glazed over in lust. “Two weeks.” he says, before turning on his heels and bolting out of the showers.

#gendrya #gendrya au #arya x gendry #gendry x arya #gendry waters #arya stark #angst with a happy ending #marvelous maisie month #dragongoddess13

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coffeexwhiskey · 5 years

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Fancy Dresses and Kisses

“You look good,” his blue eyes shined as he glanced over her from head to toe. They shared a quick peck on the cheek and gave each other a warm hug.

“Thanks, so do you,” he froze for a moment, staring at her and she too stopped after realizing what she said. Then they broke into laughter together.

“Thanks?” he replayed playfully.

“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you for a while,” she unconsciously gripped on her pink dress as he talked about where he had been filming for a series. She wasn’t really paying attention to his words. She bobbed her head as if she was intently listening to him when really her mind was thinking of how she missed his blues eyes when she’s with him, or the way he mindlessly licked his lips when he’s excited to talk about something, or how his jaws clenched when he tries to remember some story or information. His hands moving about as he explained his future projects to her. The small smile never leaving her face.

“That sounds wonderful, Gendry,” she stretched a hand to pat his arm, oh how his muscled arm felt good on her palm. It reminded her of that night she ran her hands over them when they were filming their scenes for the movie, that’s why they were in this big, fancy hotel – celebrating the premiere of their movie together. Though her role wasn’t that big, she was grateful she had the chance to share some scenes with his leading character where they even got to share some kisses for the movie; once or twice.

Somehow, it was no surprise that they were on the same film together again. They both have the same agency, making it easier for them to bump into each other, attend the same events and be on the same projects together, making it harder for her to stop herself from questioning her thoughts for him.

“Yeah yeah, it was. You should try it. Skydiving’s a whole new experience,” his grin was enough evidence of how much he enjoyed it. But before she could reply, a photographer had approached them asking for pictures. They posed together for a moment, his arm lightly wrapped around her waist as they smiled for the cameras as more press came close to them. Because most questions were addressed to Gendry, she meekly excused herself saying that she had to greet the other casts and crew. She caught sight of her sister, who happens to be one of the set designers for the movie and walked over to her and took many photos that night, a hobby she just started. She thought that it’s the best way to collect memories, something her mother had once said to her.

The night went on with more pictures, more press and more drinks. She’s had a long day. She was just in the North earlier that day, filming for another movie and now she’s in King’s Landing for this premiere. And before heading out for the red carpet, she had to submit her paper for uni. I’m a fucking Superwoman, she thought as she took her heels off and walked up to the elevators, calling it a night.

She texted her assistant telling her that she can handle her self for the rest of the night and that she should call it a day too. She also sent a text message to her sister;

Arya: Up in my room. Too tired to stay long. Night.

Sansa: Delayed flight’s a bitch. You should rest. Catch up tomorrow?

Arya: Brunch? Can’t do dinner, my flight back up North’s at 8 in the evening.

Sansa: Sure. See you. Good night.

As soon as she was up in her room, she threw her heels in the corner where her luggage were scattered and quickly peeled her pretty dress off. She sat in front of the vanity and removed her shimmering make-up. Staring at her reflection, she wondered how all of it can be a fairy tale one moment with fancy dress-ups, elaborate press and socialites and then everything’s plain and simple as soon as she took off her dress, erased her make-up and let herself be swallowed by the silence of her hotel room. She went to the bathroom and took a long warm shower making sure every little hint of the hairspray was washed off, scrubbed her skin until there was no more sticky dried sweat left. After drying her hair and body, she dressed herself in her comfy pajamas and combed her hair as she went about her things. She was about to walk to her bed and continue the book she was reading on the plane when a knock echoed inside the room.

Wondering who might be visiting her at eleven in the night, she walked cautiously towards the door and stood on her tiptoes to peek on the peephole. Her eyes widen as she gasped and landed her bare feet flat back on the floor. She quickly unlocked the door and smiled at him.

Barefoot, in grey t-shirt and sweatpants, Gendry stood with a box wrapped in green paper, complete with a ribbon. He rubbed the back of his neck and with a sheepish smile, he stretched the arm with the gift to her, “Hey, I have something for you,” he said bashfully.

Arya narrowed her eyes at him, “Are you walking around the hotel, handing out gifts?” she asked.

“Actually, no. I couldn’t find you again at the party so I thought you might be in your room. You left quite early,” he still had his arm stretched, urging her to take the gift.

She eyed the present for a moment before taking it from him, “Thank you,” she mumbled. “Well, you look like you also left the celebration quite early,” she gestured to the t-shirt and sweat pants.

He grinned guiltily at her, “Yeah, I just don’t like hanging around in crowds, you know.”

Arya nodded understandingly and remembered something, “Oh, I also have something for you,” she opened the door wider and walked inside.

Gendry followed her, closing the door behind.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she motioned for him to sit on the couch as she searched for the item from her bags, “I’m sure yours is here, somewhere,” she murmured.

After a minute or two, she finally took a silver box from one of her luggage and handed it to him.

“What is it?” he asked as he reached for it.

“It’s a gift, Gendry. Open it,” she also took the gift he gave her and sat beside him on the couch and they both opened their gifts at the same time.

“It feels like Christmas,” Gendry chuckled.

“Tell me about it.”

Arya tore the green wrapping off and opened the box carefully. She pulled out a canvas. It wasn’t too big or too small. It can perfectly fit on her bedside table in her apartment.

“Gendry,” she gasped, staring at the picture she was holding. It was a painting of the two of them from one of the scenes in the movie where she was looking out in the forest and he had his eyes on her.

“Had a friend of mine paint it for me. Do you like it?” he asked anxiously.

Arya’s eyes softened as she looked up to him, “I love it, it’s beautiful. Thank you,” she scrambled on the couch to give him a thankful hug and he squeezed her just as tight.

“You’re welcome,” he chortled at her. “And thanks for the.. ummm,” he motioned for the pen he was holding.

“It’s a fucking vintage Cross fountain pen, Gendry,” Arya sounded a bit offended.

Gendry laughed that crinkly smile of his, making Arya hitch a breath, “I know it’s a Cross pen. Thank you,” he pecked her cheek as he studied the pen, “You even got my name engraved on it.”

“And my initials too,” Arya pointed at the cap. “Now everytime you sign an autograph, you’ll have to remember me,” she japed.

“Oh there’s no way in hell I’ll be using this that often.”

“Then when are you going to use it?”

“Never.”

Arya grunted in disbelief, “Wow, you just wasted my money.”

“Maybe I’ll use it for something special.”

“That’s good enough for me,” she said, standing up to the hotel fridge in the room. “Anything I can get you?”

“Whatever you have will do.”

She took the chilled wine and two glasses from the mini bar and popped the bottle open. Handing one glass to him, she raised her glass, inviting for a toast, “To art.”

“To what?” Gendry asked, baffled.

“To art,” she repeated with a sigh. She pointed at the painting and pen on the coffee table.

Gendry rolled his eyes but raised his glass as well.

After a moment of silence, their glasses half full of wine, Gendry cleared his throat, “You’re in uni right? Drama?”

“Dramatic Literature,” she corrected.

“I see. So it’s like the perfect combo for drama and literature.”

“Kinda like that. More on theater and creative writing,” she explained and pouring herself more wine.

He nodded.

“Guess that’s where you learned it,” he mumbled to himself not expecting her to hear.

“Learned what?”

Gendry hesitated for a second, looking away from her but said it anyway, “Drama kiss,” he said lowly, embarrassed.

Arya stopped midway from drinking her wine. “What?!”

“Drama kiss,” he said again.

“Drama kiss?”

“Yes.”

“What’s drama kiss?”

“The kiss you do when you kiss in front of the camera or on stage,” he said obviously.

Arya didn’t answer to that. She spoke again as Gendry refilled his glass, “Then what do you mean I learned that?”

He huffed and explained, “I meant you learned how to do a drama kiss in university. Because you’re studying, whatever it is you’re studying.”

“Dramatic Literature,” she emphasized every syllable.

“Yes, that.”

They went silent again.

Both emptied their glasses and Arya poured them more wine.

“They don’t teach you that,” she spoke softly.

“They don’t?” he sounded disbelieved.

“No. And what’s the difference between a drama kiss and a real kiss, anyway? It’s just the same, a kiss.”

Gendry’s laugh made her more annoyed at him. She hit him lightly in the arm to stop him from laughing.

“Sometimes I forget how young you are,” Gendry said in between laughs.

“Well I’m sorry grandpa,” Arya retorted.

When he was done laughing, still flushed on the cheeks, he playfully bumped his shoulder to Arya’s.

“I’m just joking,” he said. “What you did when we filmed our scene was a perfect example of a drama kiss,” he explained.

“Isn’t that how you kiss?” Arya confusingly asked.

“Is that how you kiss your boyfriend?”

Arya shook her head, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Well I’m sure you’ve had boyfriends before. I mean, you may be young but you’re not a kid or something,” he said carefully.

Arya heaved a sigh of annoyance, “Well I don’t always lock lips with my boyfriends.”

“Copy that,” Gendry mumbled and downed his wine, quickly refilling it.

“Why are we evening talking about this?” she asked wearily.

“What I was trying to say is,” Gendry started nervously, “with the way you kissed me dramatically, I can tell you’re a good kisser,” he finished his wine, slowly.

Arya’s head snapped to look at him. He was looking more flushed that earlier. Probably the wine. Or is he embarrassed for saying that?

Carefully, Gendry turned to look back at her. His eyes were darker than the usual light blue, hazed. Arya could hear her heart pounding loudly. She felt the warmth inside her body and her pulse palpitating and yet she could feel the cold breeze from the air-condition.

Gendry had looked at her this way before, whenever he complimented her; either be her looks or her acting. And she’ll never forget how his eyes dilated when he held her face before kissing her in front of the cameras.

That’s how his eyes are right now as he reached for her cheek with his warm hand and leaned in to close the distance between them.

It was a drama kiss. It started that way. She tried to push the thoughts in her mind that’s reminding her that this is not right, because it can be right and it felt right.

How can this be wrong?

She’s single and so is he. It was plastered on every tabloid almost two years ago when the news spread out that his long-time girlfriend broke their engagement. It was obvious that he didn’t take it well. Gendry took a break from acting for over a year, and this movie that they’re working together happens to be his comeback project.

She knows of his reputation; caring, empathetic and a gentleman, a hardworking bloke who’d do anything to make others happy. She witnessed it all whenever they worked together.

No, there’s nothing wrong with this.

Not when Gendry licked her lower lip asking for entrance. Not when their tongues danced around each other, and especially not when he sucked on it making her moan.

She could tell he’s smiling through the kiss. Backing away slowly, she opened her eyes only to be met by his blue ones. He’s still smiling. Not a big smile, but a nervous one.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured and bashfully hid his face.

“Me too.”

He snapped his head back at her, looking guilty, “No. I-I started it… I’m so-“

“Still I kissed you back,” Arya replied, confidently. “I guess that was not a drama kiss anymore,” chuckling, she took the bottle in front of them and finished whatever was left of their wine.

“That bad?” she heard him say awkwardly.

She laughed harder this time, shaking her head, “If what you’re asking is the kiss, then no. That wasn’t bad I guess. But kissing you-“ she couldn’t finish her sentence. It was her turn to hide away from him by covering her face with her unkept hair.

“So the kiss wasn’t bad but because it was me, it was bad?”

“No, that’s not what I meant! It’s just we’re-“

“We’re friends,” he finished for her. Arya was still hiding her face. “Friends kiss you know.”

Arya shook her head, “Yeah but-“

“But not when they like each other?”

Well that finally made her face him again.

He was watching her intently, an arm resting on the back cushion of the couch.

“It’ll only make things awkward and complicated, right?” he continued.

Arya just gaped at him, speechless.

When she never said anything for quite some time, Gendry shook his head and breathed deeply. He stood from his seat and said, “I think I should just go. Night Arya.”

And without another look to her, he walked towards the door of her hotel room.

“Wait!” she called out. “Wha-What did you mean?” she asked cautiously. She could tell that he’s a bit uncertain on how to answer her question.

“What I meant to say is that I like you. And I can tell that you like me too-“

Arya opened her mouth to answer but he was quick to stop her despite not looking back at her.

“And don’t try to deny it. I’m sorry that I kissed you because I made it shittier and I know it’ll affect the way that I’ll treat you,” Gendry answered with his back still facing her.

Without a word, Arya leaped to her feet, ran to him and took his arm to make him face her.

With no warning, she stood on her tippy toes to reach his lips and lock them with hers, arms circling his neck as she felt his own wrap around her waist.

“Let me make it way more shittier,” she whispered in his mouth.

So the sayings were true, “takes my breath away” and “sweep you off your feet” have literal meanings to it.

She only realized it when Gendry slowly loosen his grip on her body to place her back on the ground and then he pulled away from her, the both of them giggling as they try to catch their breaths.

Only when Gendry looked terrified and wiped them away with soft strokes on her cheeks did she realize that there were tears on her eyes.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, still holding her close to him.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged but she had a grin on her face.

Gendry grinned along with her, pressing his forehead to hers making her close her eyes. His blue ones are too electrifying to stare back at the moment, her heart couldn’t take it.

Cause of Death: Heart attack, all thanks to Gendry Baratheon’s tantalizing eyes.

She breathed deeply, smelling his fresh manly shower scent. Sandalwood, she thought.

“Well I hope it’s something good,” he spoke softly.

“What?”

“I hope the reason for those tears is good, seeing how we are at the moment,” he replied, backing away from her as she opened her eyes.

Arya chuckled, “I think it is.”

She dragged him back to the couch, the two of them sitting on opposite ends. They were quite for a time when Arya noticed the pen, “Wow. You totally forgot about my gift.”

Gendry was confused but then also saw the forgotten pen on the table, “Sorry about that,” he rubbed a hand on his nape, “Will never forget about this again.” He took the pen and placed it back inside the box. He took the canvas that was also on the table and studied the photo, “I love this scene. It was the first scene we had to film and we couldn’t stop laughing.”

“We were too embarrassed.”

“Awkward,” he replied.

“Who wouldn’t be? Our first scene together, we had to kiss.”

“That’s why I love it,” he went to give her a quick peck as she felt herself blush at the sweet words and kiss. “Are you going back up North?”

“Tomorrow. In the evening,” she watched as his face washed with melancholy while he sat comfortably beside her. She knows how he’s feeling.

“I don’t want to be a prick and assume things between us,” he said without looking at her. “I’m a bit traditional, Arya.”

Her silence made him continue on, “I want to court you properly and not just skip to titles and fucks, if you know what I mean.”

Arya couldn’t stop her grin when he said ‘fucks.’ She took his hand to hers. He looked her in the eyes with a hint of embarrassment and hope and most of all will.

“I’d like that,” she said softly. “But it’ll be hard.”

“I know.”

“I’m also a bit soppy, just a warning,” he laughed at her.

“I don’t mind soppy,” he rubbed his thumb on her knuckles, “We’ll find a way to keep this as private as we can, that way it’ll be way more soppy.”

They both laughed this time.

“Sure. Can we start now?” she asked hopefully.

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ardentmuse · 5 years

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Hello, my little love bugs!

2k followers is fast approaching and I am not willing to wait for it! So we’re having a celebration now.

As many of you know, toddle started daycare, which means I have 4 hours every morning just to myself. So for the next week, I am devoting all of that time to writing. And with The Good Place coming back so soon, why not do some prompts based on the wittiest, silliest, most gut-wrenchingly romantic dialogue on television? AND why not add two new fandoms while we’re at it, just to get some good stuff goin’!

The Rules:

Must be following me (@ardentmuse)

Must submit me an ask with a number of a prompt and a character

Must like this post

Should reblog, but obviously live your own life, run with your blog aesthetic and just be happy

Only one submission per person, please!

Block “#ardentmuse almost 2k celebration” if you don’t want to see these for whatever reason (though I promise they will be good. My story with the most notes ever - over 1.5k now - was from one of these challenges)

Each ask will become a reader-insert imagine. Aiming for ~1k words for each of these, but we’ll see where the spirits take me.

Note that as I am going to be devoting all my writing time for the next week to this, I am not setting a hard cut off regarding number of submissions, but do know that I won’t be addressing these forever. Once the new Good Place season starts, I’m going to be washing my hands of whatever requests still sit in my inbox.

Character list and prompt list below the cut.

Hugs, Lia

Characters:

Note: all responses will be reader inserts (no x ships). Also, this list is off the top of my head so if I missed anyone that you really want to see, let me know.

Kingsman:

Harry Hart

Merlin (Hamish Mycroft)

Eggsy Unwin

Tequila

Whiskey (Jack Daniels)

James Spenser (Lancelot)

Roxy Morton

Harry Potter:

Bill Weasley

Charlie Weasley

Percy Weasley

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Ron Weasley

Harry Potter

Neville Longbottom

Draco Malfoy

Sirius Black

James Potter

Remus Lupin

HPHM:

Bill Weasley

Charlie Weasley

Talbott Winger

Barnaby Lee

Felix Rosier

Marvel:

Bruce Banner

Tony Stark

Peter Parker

Thor Odinson

Steve Rogers

Scott Lang

T’Challa

Game of Thrones:

Jon Snow

Robb Stark

Ned Stark

Tyrion Lannister

Jaime Lannister

Sansa Stark

Margaery Tyrell

Theon Greyjoy

Gendry (Waters)

Podrick Payne

Sandor Clegane

Petyr Baelish

Good Omens:

Aziraphale

Crowley

The Prompts from The Good Place:

https://ardentmuse.tumblr.com/post/187504106261/collectiveyou-hi-guys-im-broken-ya

Hi, guys! I’m broken.

Ya basic.

I was dropped into a cave and you were my flashlight.

Humans only live 80 years and they spend so much of it just waiting for things to be over.

I promise I’m worth it.

Kill me. Kill me. Kill me.

I gotta stay jacked. It’s who I am.

You know, sometimes a flaw can make something even more beautiful.

This is a real low point. Yeah, this one hurts.

I never thought I’d be the one to say it, but this is getting out of hand. I think we gotta go to the cops.

Well, I’ve narrowed it down to two possibilities: yes and no.

Well, I’m sure you’re busy, you probably wouldn’t want to talk to me. I get it, I wouldn’t either. I’m as dull as a rock. Ugh, even that analogy was boring. I’m sorry, I’m so dull, and I’m ugly. I’m like a rock. Ugh, stupid! Stop talking about rocks!

She’s so pretty, like Nala from The Lion King. And she talks so smart, like, um, Nala, from The Lion King.

It’s devastating. You’re devastated right now.

Okay, bud, whatever’s going on right now, just shove your feelings way down deep, plaster on a fake smile, and pretend like you’re having fun. Okay?

Ugh, of course your hugs are amazing.

Long story short, it was all a dream.

Right now I’m just a girl, towering over a boy, asking him to admit he loves me.

Pay it forward.

Now I’m living my truth and creating my bliss.

I am attractive, yes.

I don’t think this can be solved with a book.

Searching for meaning is philosophical suicide.

Now I’m bored. Walking is dumb.

You’re awesome! Be nicer to yourself.

I would say I outdid myself, but I’m always this good. So I simply did myself.

Lies are always more convincing when they’re closer to the truth.

Why do bad things always happen to mediocre people who are lying about their identities?

Rule number one– I get to do whatever I want, and you all just have to deal with it.

Principles aren’t principles when you pick and choose when you’re gonna follow them.

It’s a rare occurrence, like a double rainbow.

We are not in this alone.

Pobody’s nerfect.

Yep, shouldn’t have said that. Regretted it immediately.

You’re kind of, you know, turtling.

You and I are very different.

I’d say it’s like 50 million simultaneous orgasms, but better.

… I can work with that.

But then I remembered that I’m a naughty bitch.

Oh come on! You and I both know I’ll never read those.

What’s the secret? Is the secret more books? How many more books do I need?

Cool stance. Counterpoint: Get over yourself.

I’m outtie. See you in hell.

That broke me. I’m – I’m done.

I am your hottest friend!

You’re barfing Wikipedia over everyone to avoid talking about your feelings.

No matter what he does, we will find each other. And we will help each other. Because we’re soulmates.

I’m going to hug you because I love you. And because you feel just as alone as I do.

That’s insane. But it’s also like the eleventh most insane thing to happen today so who cares.

A: That’s not a question. B: So you agree, it’s a fact.

#harry potter imagines #kingsman imagines #marvel imagines #game of thrones imagines #good omens imagines #mcu imagines #harry potter x reader #kingsman x reader #marvel x reader #game of thrones x reader #good omens x reader #ardentmuse almost 2k celebration #reader insert #x reader

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kitten1618x · 5 years

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GoT Afterthoughts ep. 08x02 ‘A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms’ (Jonsa Edition)

Guys this episode was sooooooo good! Okay, okay, okay, let’s unpack here! I have lots of thoughts and since this isn’t broken up into parts, this is going to be a long post, so I’m gonna drop this bad boy under a read more.

We begin in the Great Hall. It appears Jaime is on trial. Queen Dany sits at the head of the table—and imagine having the fucken audacity to sit in Winterfell — in Rickard fucken Starks seat—and in front of his grandchildren, talking about the extermination of Aerys Targaryen like he was some noble king that was just slaughtered by the big bad kingslayer, and NOT the murderous fucken mad Targ king, whom crimes’ you just recently apologized to Jon for, and called him evil to conveniently set yourself apart from him—or did you just forget all that, Dany? Hmmm? IMAGINE the big hairy pair you have to have to actually sit in between the Starks in their own home and utterly disrespect them like that—all while claiming to be in love with one of them? Wow. Just wow. And no, I’m not even sorry for that amazingly clunky run-on sentence, either.

I see that Jaime still has no interest in setting the record straight on why he killed Aerys Targaryen. It appears only Brienne will truly ever know about the millions of people he saved that day in doing so. Jaime stands his ground, though, and gives up Cersei’s plans. Tyrion tries to stand up for him, but Dany cuts him off at the knees (no pun intended), embarrassing him in front of everyone, as per ush.

For a moment her and Sansa have common ground. Sansa doesn’t trust Jaime either because of the wrongs he committed against her family. Jamie won’t apologize for any of it— their houses were at war. But Brienne vouches for him—my courageous, yet shy bb (God, I love her), and Sansa relents, her mind changed when Brienne says she’d fight beside him. Sansa trusts Brienne with her life, therefore Brienne trusting Jaime with hers is good enough for the Lady of Winterfell.

Dany is clearly not pleased with this turn of events. She turns to Jon, addressing him as Warden of the North and asks him what he thinks — assuming he will take her side, but—

He does not.

Dany finally relents as well, grounding out a “very well” between clenched teeth, as Tyrion breathes a sigh of relief that his big bro will not be extra crispy or original recipe’d today. GreyWorm returns Jaime’s sword—rather forcefully, knowing his queen is displeased—as Jaime thanks Dany for her uncharacteristic mercy.

Scene Highlights:

Bran blurting out “the things we do for love” and leaving Jaime shooketh

Sansa immediately standing up and leaving without waiting to be dismissed by the queen, and Jon ducking his head to avoid eye contact and then dipping as soon as Dany turns to face him.

Which takes us into the corridors of Winterfell and Dany resorting to her favorite pastime when she’s angry about things not going her way: berating her Hand in front of everyone. Luckily for Tyrion it’s just Jorah and Varys to witness it this time. Once again she accuses him of treason, and Tyrion is pretty sure that his time as Hand in her service is fast dwindling.

We jump to the forge where Arya stands back admiring Gendry work his magic—a callback to their time at Harrenhall in their younger years. They have a little flirty weaponry banter, and Arya wants to know what the AotD are like. She utters the iconic ‘many faces of death’ lines from the trailer while she impresses Gendry with some dead ass accurate blade throwing. He’ll be getting right on making her that weapon, by the way—and probably walking a little funny while he does it. 😉

Jaime seeks out Bran in the Godswood. He apologizes for what he did and tells Bran he’s not that person anymore. “You still would be if you hadn’t pushed me out that window, and I’d still be Brandon Stark.” Wow. Jaime wants to know why Bran didn’t tell them what he did, and Bran basically tells him it’s because they need him. When Jaime inquires “what about afterwards?” Bran drops an ominous “how do you know there will be an afterwards?”

We jump back to the Winterfell courtyard, where the Lannister brothers are catching up and commiserating about being in Winterfell again. Dany is different, Tyrion tells Jaime, and Jaime doesn’t seem so convinced. Tyrion wants to know if Cersei lied about the baby, and Jaime tells him that was true (as far as he/we know, people). But what I REALLY love about their conversation is this part:

J: She’s always been good at using the truth to tell lies. Don’t be too hard on yourself. She’s fooled me more than anybody.

T: She never fooled you. You always knew exactly what she was, and you loved her anyway.

The funny, or actually ironic thing about this conversation is they’re talking about Cersei, but if you flip the dialogue between the Lannister brothers here, the same could be said for Dany—especially the bolded part. Think back to the things Tyrion said to Jorah when he kidnapped him back in season 5 — he was confused by Jorah’s blind loyalty, too. How the mighty have fallen, Tyrion.

They move their conversation up to the battlements, where Tyrion finds the silver lining that at least he won’t die at Cersei’s hands, and perhaps once he’s torn apart by the dead, he’ll march to Kings Landing and rip her apart too. But he’s talking to himself, because Jaime is too busy watching Brienne supervising the training of her ranks just outside the gates.

And my Braime heart is siiiiiiiinging!!!

He joins her below, and she calls him out for acting weird and not insulting her as per ush. lol It’s really just an adorable little love spat — complete with awkwardness and frustration and plenty of UST. And as the music lulls romantically, he basically admits that she’s the reason he’s here and even though he’s no longer the fighter that he used to be, he‘d be honored to serve under her command if she’ll have him—which is basically fucken a straight up declaration of love, okay? He literally just said—complete with puppy dog eyes—“I love you.” CHANGE MY MIND!!

Brienne is taken aback by this declaration of love and is at loss for words — and so she ducks out, leaving him to watch after her forlornly. And my Braime heart is still siiiiiiiinging!!!!

We head back inside of Winterfell, Dany is alone in her chambers — and they aren’t the Lord’s Chambers, that’s for damn sure. She’s not having a very good day, and her expression here certainly reflects that. Jorah enters, asking her forgiveness, reminding her that forgiveness is important. This leads into a conversation where he basically asks her to take it easy on Tyrion and give him another chance.

While book!Jorah might be a creep, I truly adore show!Jorah, who laments that when he found out Dany gave Tyrion this position, it broke his heart, but he still believes that Tyrion was the right choice; he’s smart, he owns his mistakes and he learns from them.

What I find odd is Dany’s reply: “You’re advising me to forgive the man who stole your position?”

Wait... what? When did Tyrion do that? I recall Dany proudly pinning that golden hand pin on a very humbled Tyrion in the season 6 finale—not some rabid dwarf attacking an unsuspecting Jorah and wrestling the position from his gnarled greyscaled hands—and what-the-ever-living-fuck kind of crazy ass dialogue are they giving this girl?

Jorah has one other suggestion for her, if she’ll allow him such liberties. Annnnnd now the Sansa/Dany scene makes so much more sense. Dany didn’t seek Sansa out of her own accord to try and bridge the icy gap between them because she’s just so humble and wonderful and loving and good!!!! !!!! !!!! It was actually Ser Jorah’s idea.

So Dany takes him up on his suggestion and seeks Sansa out, finding her in the library with Lord Royce. But ahhhh this scene is just so fucken good, so let’s unpack it, shall we?

Dany enters and asks that they speak in private, and Sansa cedes to her wishes, dismissing Lord Royce.

D - I thought you and I were on the verge of agreement before... about Ser Jaime.

S - Brienne has been loyal to me always. I trust her more than anyone.

D - I wish I could have that kind of faith in my advisers.

Here she takes a low blow at Tyrion again, but Sansa defends him.

S - Tyrion is a good man. He was never anything but decent towards me.

D - I didn’t ask him to be my hand simply because he was good. I asked him to be my hand because he was good and intelligent and ruthless when he had to be. (See, I told y’all Tyrion didn’t steal the position... and yes, I’m being petty lol). Dany steps closer into Sansa’s space as she continues. He never should have trusted Cersei.

S - You never should have either.

Sansa drops a truth bomb, insinuating (rightly) that Dany shares the blame here, and Dany doesn’t like this at all. She swallows, containing her anger and paints on a fake smile in her irritation at Sansa’s words.

D - I thought he knew his sister.

S - Families are complicated.

Dany smiles at that and pulls up a seat, indicating for Sansa to do the same.

D - Ours certainly have been.

S - A sad thing to have in common.

D - We have other things in common. We’ve both known what it means to lead people who aren’t inclined to accept a woman’s rule. And we’ve both done a damn good job of it, from what I can tell...

Sansa smiles briefly at this. Clearly, Dany is using the compliment strategy again, but not so shallowly this time. Even if she truly believes this, the commonality of them both being women ruling is where this similarity ends. We’ve seen how differently they run things via season 7’s blatant comparison of ‘the three queens’. Sansa stores food, Cersei steals it, and Dany burns it (and yes, I’m going to keep bringing this up). But honestly, who could forget?

vs.

D - (cont.) ...and yet I can’t help feeling like we’re at odds with each other. Why is that?

Sansa takes a deep breath but doesn’t reply.

D - Your brother?

Yeah y’all, they really did that. But again I say, no love triangle brewing here, folks.

S - He loves you, you know that? *(I’ll address this in a minute)

D - That bothers you?

S - Men do stupid things for women. They’re easily manipulated.

D - All my life I’ve known one goal. The iron throne. Taking it back from the people that destroyed my family, and almost destroyed yours. My war was against them until I met Jon. Now I’m here, half a world away, fighting Jon’s war alongside him. Tell me, who manipulated whom?

Y’all are you serious?!?!? This entire fucken monologue is like literally POLITICAL!JON — I mean, it’s like D&D are literally fucken trolling this relationship so hard. Nothing like hiding some shit right out in plain sight for all the world to not see it. *And if you think for one minute that Sansa is not playing the game here, and that she actually did a complete 180, then I don’t know what to tell you other than, just wait and see.

There was a reason that they cut that office scene between her and Jon in the last episode, and after mulling it over with a few of my comrades, I think that it’s possible that Jon came clean and brought Sansa in on it. They have been a unit since they reunited, and a major part of Sansa’s hostility in the last episode was because she felt Dany was encroaching upon that, and she was losing Jon. Romantic or platonic, no one can deny the dynamic is there between Jon and Sansa. I happen to think it’s romantic, and I will die on this hill—but political!jon and jonsa aren’t mutually exclusive!!! !!! Okay, back to our dialogue.

S - (releases a small laugh and looks down—and I can’t help hearing Catelyn’s voice in my head: ‘you always look at your feet when you lie’) I should have thanked you the moment you arrived. That was a mistake.

D- (reaching down and placing her hand atop of Sansa’s). I’m here because I love your brother, and I trust him. And I know he’s true to his word. He’s only the second man in my life I can say that about.

S - Who was the first?

D- Someone taller.

They both giggle. I assume the other man she’s talking about is Drogo. In any event, I feel Dany is being truly sincere here. This is why people (her stans and the GA both) have a hard time seeing the darkness in her—because one minute she’s sitting narrow-eyed at a table, fighting off a tantrum while she drones on about her father—the fucken mad king—and how her and her brother fantasized about what they would do to the man that murdered him (one can only assume she wasn’t implying knitting him a sweater and mittens), and the next minute she’s all gentle heart and eyes and soft tones about loving and trusting Jon, and giggling with his sister about her ex being much taller than him. I get it. I really do.

But here’s the thing about political!jon that the antis and the jonerii always get wrong—at least the version I subscribe to (and yes, there are several variations of it because we aren’t a hive-mind like we’re always accused of being): Jon has every intention of fulfilling his pledge to Dany and whatever that entails—which is why he keeps trying to convince everyone that she’ll be a good queen (including himself). But he doesn’t love her. He simply used the feelings that he recognized that she had for him, to manipulate her to his cause. This doesn’t mean that he’ll throw her out of winterfell and bone his sister when it’s all said and done—because no, Jon isn’t a creep, but he is actually rather cunning when he deems it necessary.

However, he won’t have to keep up the charade, or boot her ass out of the north, or any of the other things the jonerii accuse us of ‘fantasizing’ about, because Dany is going to go dark, and everyone will see her for what she truly is. So, let’s return to our dialogue so I can get tf off of this scene! lol

~ S - And what happens afterwards? We defeat the dead, you destroy Cersei, what happens then?

D - I take the iron throne.

S - What about the North? (Sansa’s tone drops here as she becomes emotional about her home and her people, the music becomes more ominous as the softness ebbs from Dany’s face). It was taken from us, and we took it back. And we said we’d never bow to anyone else again. (Her tone gets sharper, as she asks again). What about the North?

Dany looks angry now. She’s done playing nice, as she pulls her hand back from Sansa’s. The ominous music drones on as they stare at each other, and the maester interrupts them.~Theon has arrived at Winterfell. The music swells, and Theon looks first to a very visibly emotional Sansa, then Dany, and then back to Sansa again before customarily bowing to and acknowledging his queen. Suddenly Dany gives a flying fuck about her ally and inquires about Yara. Theon explains she’s taken back the Iron Islands in her (Dany’s) name.

“But why aren’t you with her?” Dany asks, confused at his presence, while the music swells again and Theon looks again, to Sansa—and not his queen. Dany of course notices this, and turns to look at Sansa as well, as Theon directly addresses—you guessed it—Sansa, and not his queen: “I want to fight for Winterfell, Lady Sansa. If you’ll have me.”

And oh dear god, I’m so emotional rn, as Sansa’s eyes flood with tears and she runs to envelope Theon in a hug — Theon whom through his own trauma, not only helped to get her away from Ramsay and safely to Jon — but also cared enough for her and the Starks and what he did, to come back and finish making amends!!!! And you know Sansa is so proud of him!!! And I just had a conversation earlier with my bb @scullylikesscience that Theon would likely pledge to protect Bran, and that he will also likely sacrifice himself somehow to save one of the Starks, therefore completing his redemption arc, and I just can’t even rn— 😭😭

Scene Highlights:

Lord Royce leaving only when Sansa dismissed him.

Dany witnessing firsthand the devotion that Sansa and the Starks inspire in people.

Also... don’t forget

We’re back out in the courtyard, where Dadvos is serving up dinner to the Northerners with a side of confidence, and Gilly is advising a woman where to go below in the crypts. A little orphan(?) girl with burns on the side of her face asks Davos where she should go and my fucken heart is shattering again because you know he sees Princess Shireen in her!!!

And Fuck you Bryan Cogman, you’re killing me!!!

She’s not sure where to go because she knows the children are going to the crypts where they’ll be safer, but both of her brothers were soldiers and so she wants to fight too. Auntie Gilly to the rescue: she tells the girl that she’d feel much safer if she was down in the crypts protecting her and her son, and with a purpose, the girl happily accepts her bowl and heads off as Gilly smiles softly at Davos. And god dammit, Liam Cunningham played this scene so well. He literally has me tearing up here!

The horn blows for a new arrival, and Edd is here! The last of the Nights Watch are back together again — and Tormund. lol He glomps Jon, affectionately dubbing him his ‘little crow’, and they let Jon know that Last Hearth is done for and anyone else who’s still out there is pretty much part of the AotD now. They have until sunrise to finish preparing.

And the war council has commenced.~We get a little glimpse of what the NK wants, I guess??? Bran says “he wants to erase this world, and I am its memory.” —but why? And then Sam says something pretty poignant that I want @thelawyerthatwaspromised ‘s thoughts/opinion on: “That’s what death is, isn’t it? Forgetting. Being forgotten. If we forget where we’ve been and what we’ve done, we’re not men anymore, just animals.Your memories don’t come from books, your stories aren’t just stories. If I wanted to erase the world, I may not start with you.”

Pretty sure those that theorized that Sam is writing A Song of Ice and Fire were right, y’all — and with such a ‘poetic’ title, to boot.

They strategize a plan to ferret the NK out using (a volunteering) Bran as bait in the Godswood. Theon volunteers himself and the Iron Born to stay with Bran and protect him (and jfc here comes the end I predicted for Theon and I hate it so much), as Jon shares that taking out the NK will likely diminish the entire army. They cement their battle plans and Dany insists Tyrion stay in the crypts because she intends to keep him on as Hand. Tormund announces that they are all going to die, but at least they’ll die together, and Jon suggests everyone get some rest. Avoiding eye contact with Dany, he utters “your grace,” and then quickly ducks out on her ass again, leaving her looking confused and frustrated.

Scene Highlights:

Jon’s commanding presence in this meeting — even so far as to dismiss everyone, despite the fact that Dany is the queen and supposed to be the one calling the shots. Even her people look to him here for leadership, which is interesting.

Aegon Targaryen and his sister-wives.

Thank you @goodqueenalys ❤️

Alys Karstark making another appearance here, standing beside Theon—yeah, I’m becoming more and more convinced we’re getting a Sansa death fake-out at the expense of this ginger beauty.

We head back out to the courtyard where a lonely looking Missandei attempts to befriend some northern children. Unfortunately, she came with the Dragon Queen, so they want nothing to do with her. Grey Worm joins her and the two make plans to leave for Naath after Dany takes the throne — which means that one of them is probably going to die. Sigh.

Way up high on the ramparts, Sam asks Jon if he’s told Dany yet. He has not, and so Sam prods him a bit — and oh look, there’s Ghost, off to the side looking like they literally photo-shopped him into the scene. 🙄

Edd joins them, and the last of the Watchers On The Wall commiserate, and poke a little fun at Sam. I’m very emotional as Edd says “last man left, burn the rest of us” (which most likely won’t be him) as they pan out to the northern scenery in the distance.

The Lannister boys are reminiscing again, this time by the hearth and are joined by Brienne and Podrick. Momma Brienne allows Pod a half cup of wine (which Tyrion overflows) and Jaime encourages her to join them (smitten fool). She does, as well as Davos and Tormund, too—who is fucken hilarious here as he tries to impress Brienne with one of his tall tales, then sloppily downs his horn of sour goats milk. It’s all rather strange. lol

There’s a brief scene of Arya and the Hound on the ramparts. She wants to know what he’s doing here—when’s the last time he fought for anyone but himself, as to which he replies: “I fought for you, didn’t I?” True enough. Beric joins them and Arya takes her leave, declaring she doesn’t intend to spend her last hours with these two miserable old shits. lol

I’m not sure where she headed off to, but Gendry finds her and presents her with her weapon. Arya wants to know what the red woman wanted with him. He tells her his blood because he’s Robert Baratheon’s bastard — which leads into Arya wanting to know how many women he’s been with. Gendry avoids the question, but Arya persists, many face gaming his ass until he relents. LOL

The number is 3, and Arya wants to be number 4. She wants to know what it’s like before she dies. And holy shit, they went there! They kiss passionately, with Arya taking the lead. She orders him to take his own bloody pants off and takes the bull for a ride—if ya know what I mean... 😉

We return to the group before the hearth in the hall. Tyrion remarks that almost all among them had fought the Starks at some point, and yet, here they all are defending them. But yeah, this story is about a Targaryen restoration.

In their battle banter, it comes up that Brienne is not a Knight—and while Tormund would happily Knight her gorgeous big-womaned ass ten times over, tradition does not allow her to be one because she’s a woman. Oh the irony that the most honorable of them all—the one who actually is a true knight, cannot be named one. Until Jaime says, “hold my beer!” (or wine, rather).

Okay guys, like honestly, this is probably my most favorite scene of the entire series. Everything about it is so beautiful and wholesome, as Jaime declares any Knight can make another Knight and bids Brienne to kneel. She looks to Pod who, with an adoring face, gives her a little nod of encouragement, then she looks to Jaime, and he does the same.

The lovely music, the proud faces of all the men who look on with awe as Brienne kneels and Jaime says the words, pressing his blade gently from one shoulder to the other and makes some fucken Westerosi history when he says proudly: “Arise Brienne of Tarth, a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Guuuuuuuys!!!! Omg!!!! I’m definitely ugly CRYING here!!!! Brienne’s eyes welling with tears, her proud smile, all these men clapping and their proud faces!!! Yeah, this is definitely 10/10 my most FAVORITE ever GoT scene!!! Just beautiful!

We jump back out to the courtyard where a very adorable and yet insanely stubborn little Lyanna Mormont is arguing with Jorah about going to the crypts. She pledged to fight for the North and she intends to, so she bids her cousin good fortune and leaves to take her place. Sadly, I think that she will not make it through the battle for Winterfell.

Sam has come to give Jorah Heartsbane. This is another very loaded and lovely scene, and my heart is pretty heavy, because I’m not very confident that Jorah will make it out of this battle alive, either. Sam tells him: “your father taught me how to be a man. Taught me how to do what’s right. This is right,” as he presents him the sword. Jorah accepts this heartfelt gesture and declares that he will wield it in his memory, to guard the realms of men.

BRYAN COGMAN!!!! I’M COMING FOR YOU FOR MAKING ME CRY ALL DAMN NIGHT!!!!

But seriously, the dynamic between Jorah and Sam has just been so beautiful. And all the antis can fuck right off with their shit-talking of this beautiful and wholesome creature that is Samwell Tarly!

We jump back to the crew before the hearth who are loathe to call it a night. Tyrion wants a song, and we are treated to Pod’s beautiful rendition of Jenny of Oldstones — and this entire montage is so beautiful, as we see how everyone is prepping for battle, spending their last hours with those they love and saying their goodbyes. The desperation in Missandei and GreyWorm’s very passionate goodbye kiss is extremely moving and makes me think this is probably their final kiss goodbye, and Jorah looks so gallant as he swings ‘round his horse, making his father proud and my heart is just swelling with love and dread and ughhhhhhhh!!!!!

At first I was a bit upset that none of the Starks were actually together here, but in my rewatch, I’ve come to understand why a little bit more. It seems as if they’ve all revisited their own life’s journey prior to coming home (in this episode). Jon, on the ramparts with Ghost and his remaining brothers of the Nights Watch. Arya, first sharing a brief moment with the Hound and Beric (brothers without banners), and then with Gendry. Sansa sharing a meal with Theon out in the courtyard in the home that holds both good and traumatic memories for both of them. He redeemed himself through her (as Jon said), and they share a bond of both surviving Ramsay and his horrors.

Bryan Cogman did NOT disappoint with this lovely episode, which has been what we will surely look back on as a bittersweet eulogy of sorts to some of the beloved characters we’ve come to know over the years. Yeah, this was beautifully done.

Ahhh, and lastly, we delve down into the crypts where Jon stands before the statue of his mother. Dany has very obviously (and understandably) grown tired of being avoided and sought him out. When he acknowledges her presence with a brief glance and a very faint smile, she cautiously moves closer and wraps her arms around him. And yep, here it is—the reveal. I honestly thought he would keep it from her as long as he possibly could, but I guess he figures they might all bite it anyway, so fuck it... (i’m kidding!! Or am i??)

Dany is taken aback by his words. She releases a shuddering breath and immediately steps away from him, denying it: that’s impossible. Jon tells her he wishes it were — and I fully believe him. Aside from the full-on identity crisis he’s been experiencing, you all know he has no interest in the Iron Throne... all this man has ever wanted was to protect his home, and the ones he loves.

Dany thinks there’s a conspiracy against her between Bran and Sam—and now Jon’s tone and demeanor have changed a bit. He takes a step towards her and insists that it’s true, calling her Dany because it’s informal and personal, and he knows now that she’s his aunt—that means she’s still his family—and I think he’s hoping that they’ll still be able to find some common ground with that.

But the fact that she’s found actual family—that she’s not really the last Targaryen alone in the world anymore—doesn’t seem to affect her as much as the fact that Jon is the last male heir of their line, and so therefore his claim for the throne overrides hers. A claim he has expressed no want or intent for, mind you. Maybe he intended to tell her no one would have to know, and he’d never contest her claim if she’d agree to leave the North independent when it’s all said and done... who knows? Certainly not Jon, because it’s clear he’s taken aback by her response here.

D - if it were true, it would make you the last male heir of House Targaryen (she grounds out those bolded words through clenched teeth and Kit’s micro expressions are on point—jfc, Watch his eyes!!). You’d have a claim to the iron throne.

And with the final utterance of Dany’s last words, the war horns sound. As if that doesn’t seem like a harbinger of Targbowl?!?!

But I will say, in my honest and most humble opinion, that his delivery here was all wrong. The way Jon lamented the story, it kind of came off as if it’s something he might have known all along... and therefore she most certainly will feel betrayed at this. Especially considering her earlier conversation with Sansa. Which, the crazy ass irony of it all is, with political!jon, he was actually already betraying her—just not about what she’ll think it was. Did I say that right? lol

They join Tyrion on the Ramparts, the dead are here. Jon looks towards Dany, nodding as if to ask if she’s ready, and she storms off ahead of him, anger evident on her face.

Ahhhhhhhhh, I’m really scared for Jon here, guys...!!! What are your thoughts?

Remember to care for yourselves and stay hydrated as we slug through this hellish week!

ty @farmgirlusa for your dialogue corrections.

#got afterthoughts #episode recap #jonsa #political!jon #dark!dany #anti jonerys #anti targaryen restoration #anti daenerys #not really but you aren't allowed to be critical of her if you're a fan and her behavior was so inappropriate this episode #so i guess it's anti #got s8 ep 2 #got s8

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aweseeds · 5 years

Text

Crumbling Westeros

Game of Thrones ends with Bran as King of 6 Kingdoms & Sansa as Queen in the North. But those 6 Kingdoms represent a crumbling Westeros.

Consider the situation from the perspective of the remaining 6 Lord Paramonts:

1) Bran has taken Tyrion Lannister as Hand. Tyrion represents the family that illegally seized the throne & had a series of brutal regimes. Tyrion has been Hand to Joffrey the worst king since Aerys II, then switched his allegiance to Daenerys to fight against the family he once served, & now has changes his allegiance to Bran, after Bran's brother murdered Daenerys when the North was sworn to Daenerys & after she had defeated the North's two great enemies, the White Walkers & Cersei Lannister. To the Lords Paramont, Bran has put a man in power whose loyal cannot be trusted & will serve a king's enemies when it is personally beneficial to him.

2) Bran become king after his brother murdered the queen the North was sworn to serve. So the Starks came to power via treason.

3) Jon committed treason, which he has previously stated has the punishment of death. Jon himself executed men who refused to obey his orders.

4) Despite this, the Starks argued for Jon to be set free. Basically they said the law should not apply to the members of their family.

5) Sansa Stark immediately wanted her own kingdom once Bran was named King & he gave it to her. This gives the Starks two crowns.

6) Bran has given the Reach to a Lannister sellsword after that sellsword participated in wiping out House Tyrell, who had been the Lord Paramount of the Reach for hundreds of years. Bronn has never lived in the Reach & also is made Master of Coin.

7) Bran made Samwell Tarly Grand Maester despite his never earning the status of Maester and abandoning the Night's Watch. Sam also violates the Night's Watch & Maester rules by having a wife & children. Sam is promoted because he was a friend to a member of House Stark.

From the view of the remaining Lords Paramont, this is not a good situation. Bran clearly gives his family huge preferential treatment & great rewards to people that are unearned.

Dorne was the kingdom that fought against joining the 7 the longest. The current Prince of Dorne was sworn to Daenerys, who the Starks murdered. He is likely to insist Dorne get it's independence based on the precedent Bran set with Sansa. That's the loss of one kingdom.

Yara was sworn to Daenerys, she wanted Jon executed, the established legal punishment for his actions. In response, she was threatened by the Starks who essentially said she would be killed if she continued she say that. She is also more likely to insist on the Iron Islands independence based on the precedent Bran set with Sansa & because the Starks cannot be trusted to remain loyal to allies. The Starks have shown they murder an ally after said ally has benefited them by killing their enemies. That's another kingdom lost.

The Riverlands suffered huge from the Lannisters, including during the time Tyrion was loyal to Joffrey & his father, who planned & executed the Red Wedding. The Lannisters were responsible for the murder of Edmure's beloved sister, nephew & king, & Edmure's years of brutal imprisonment. If word gets out that Tyrion released his brother from captivity, the man who forces Edmure to hand over Riverrun by threatening to catapult his baby son into said castle, Edmure will view Tyrion's appointment has an enormous betrayal. The Lannisters also killed his uncle. Despite the Riverlands fighting on the North's side in the Wot5K, they receive no reward. In fact when Esmure tries to address the other lords, he is told to shut up & sit down by his niece.

Despite being related to Bran, there is no reason why he should stay in a kingdom Bran rules. So the Riverlands would likely also want independence. After all the North got theirs again & the Riverlands didn't benefit from declaring a Stark their King. In fact, it got many of them slaughtered. Arya killed House Frey out of personal vengeance. We didn't see her go & free Edmure afterwards. After all, if Edmure, a war veteran who suffered enormously, isn't even allowed the chance to speak in an assembly of the Lords Paramont, why would he think having Bran as King is good?

The Vale was sworn to the North, but they watched Daenerys & her army be essential in defeating the army of the dead & Cersei. The Vale fought to protect the North, which now gets it's independence. Two members of House Stark get crowns, but the Vale got nothing. Key lords & ladies of the Vale saw Sansa lie for Littlefinger, enabling him to escape justice for murdering Lysa, his wife & widow of their murdered Lord. Sansa later took Littlefinger as her advisor, then executed him based on harm he caused to House Stark. Robert Arryn liked & trusted Littlefinger. Even knowing his crimes, he would be wary of the Starks, especially Sansa, who slapped him & who he does not have a good relationship with. He doesn't know Bran at all. So the Vale might want independence since the North got it.

The Reach has no reason to support Bronn & every reason to kill him. His position is all due to his service to House Lannister. They are almost certain to repel against a crown that gives this man such power. They were also sworn to Daenerys, who House Stark murdered, then took her crown. That's another kingdom who wants to break away.

The Stormlands have Lord Gendry, who is a friend of House Stark. But Gendry was legitimizes & given the lordship by Daenerys. We don't know how he feels about Jon's oathbreaking. He might be loyal to Bran, we don't know. His connection to the Starks was through Arya & Jon, who are both gone. We don't know if the Stormlands will support Bran long-term.

We know nothing about the Westerlands beside the fact that the Starks have been their enemies for years. Tyrion was convicted of murdering a half Lannister king. Then the Starks defeated a Lannister queen. The Westerlands have no reason to support a Stark King.

In summation, Bran is ruling over a kingdom that will quickly crumble. The Starks have demonstrated their word cannot be trusted. They swear oaths when it suits them & then murder allies. Bran hasnever been south before or visited any of these kingdoms. He doesn't even have any family support. Arya & Jon have immediately left Westeros & Sansa got her own separate kingdom. He promotes based on nepotism, not merit, as does his Hand. The Lords Paramont have plenty of reasons to demand independence or simply proclaim their independence as the North previously did. If Bran refuses to allow this, it will be another civil war. Bran doesn't even have an army, except if the Houses in the Crownlands support him, which is highly unlikely given he is Northern.

Instead of a healthy, unified 6 kingdoms working together, it with be a bunch of small kingdoms looking out for themselves. Bran isn't bringing people together, he is tearing them apart.

Westeros will be a mess. There was no point in Bran being King. Bran doesn't have a plan of how to rebuild after wars. He is someone with enormous magical power & foresight that he has never used to help anyone. He's just sat back & watched people die. He has no experience in leadership or ruling.

Daenerys & Jon spent seasons trying to get people to work together despite their past wars, grievances, or being from different cultures. Their efforts end up being wasted. It is a very sad thing to see. Thenshow ends on a note that loyalty, keeping your word, & working together is for the stupid. The only benefits are those you grab for yourself. Being deceitful & treacherous makes you a winner.

Westeros is dead.

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gizkasparadise · 5 years

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do u have any ronald crushing on arya/jealous gendry outtakes 👀👀 as always, love the fury thank u for writing it ❤

so not QUITE what you asked for (sorry!!) but the Spirit is there! i had to cut myself off because legit just almost re-wrote all of ch. 22 from ronald’s POV lol

warnings for vague (but probably unsurprising) fury spoilers, a mention of ronnet hitting ronald/ronnet being a piece of shit, and gendry being victim of slander 8(

He hates Gendry Baratheon before he ever meets him. His father’s told them all enough: he’s some grifter from the gutters of King’s Landing, who had kissed enough Targaryen ass to land himself a Lordship. And that’s not even the worst of it all. Ronald had never been to court, but they had a cousin there named Rodolph who always wrote. And Rodolph said Gendry Baratheon’d gone and probably strong-armed Arya Stark into marrying him. They said he dragged her out of the Great Hall, ripped her right out of her betrothed’s arms. The whole court thought him unmannerly and crass and brutish–all the worst parts of Robert Baratheon, as well as his look. His uncle said the only reason the union between Lady Stark and Gendry Baratheon was allowed was because the King was a bastard upstart himself, and the lower born supported their own. Ronald had stared at the wall for that part, fists clenched.

Ronald’s father hadn’t taken any of the news from King’s Landing well. And he took the news about the wedding even less–”bred his bitch soon enough,” had been the exact words. Ronald hadn’t liked that, much. Gendry Baratheon sounded like a piece of gutter shit, but highborn Ladies shouldn’t be called dogs. And it sounded like Arya Stark had suffered enough indignity already.

After the rumors came the announcement that they’d have to host them. Ronald wasn’t privy to his family’s political affairs, but he noticed more ravens going in and out than usual during the month they prepared for House Baratheon’s arrival–east, south, and north. Whatever was happening, his father didn’t like it.

The week before their arrival had been even worse–the general mayhem of preparing for a host of fifty-something men, but also the way his father and uncle had been acting. They were both more short-tempered than usual, slamming doors and throwing books into fires. Ronald made the mistake of asking about one of their conversations and gotten a split lip for his trouble. He stopped asking after that.

The night before they were meant to arrive, father calls him into his solar.

“We can’t trust him, Ronald,” Ronnet says, fingers crossed over his mouth.

Ronald hadn’t been invited to sit, so he just stands behind the chairs across from his father’s desk. “Yes, father.”

Ronnet’s gaze flickers up. “How much do you know of our House’s relationship with the Baratheons?”

“They stole our land,” he says without having to think about it. Ronald doesn’t remember much about his grandfather, for whom he was named, but he does remember the hatred with which he spoke of Robert Baratheon. Nine-tenths of House Connington’s holdings had been dispersed, the majority split between House Mertyns, Rogers, and Wylde. All because Robert had a temper tantrum.

“That’s correct.” His father shifts in his seat. “Because you are my blood, and one day I may legitimize you should I never have a true son-”

Ronald swallows hard.

“-it’s your right to know what this visit means.” Ronnet drops his hands from in front of his mouth. “We have pledged support to Gendry’s claim because Jon demanded it. But our cousin is still in Essos, and did not realize the unfortunate history repeating in the Stormlands. I’ve since informed him.”

Ronald’s not sure what’s meant by all this, but he wisely stays silent.

“I suspect Gendry Baratheon is coming to pillage our coffers and further disgrace our House by taking our status as landed knights. He is here for what could be your birthright, Ronald.” Father sneers. “Lowborns like him care little for honor or tradition. And he’s already proven himself bloodthirsty and soulless by allying with Daenerys Targaryen after she killed half of King’s Landing. I have no doubt he will find any reason to take the Roost from us and give it to one of his cutthroat bootlickers.” He clenches his jaw. “We must not trust this man, or any of his retinue, do you understand?”

“I understand.”

His father leans back and stares at him for a long while, as though trying to see how honest he’s being. Ronald straightens his posture. After a moment, he nods. “While they are here, you are to remain out of sight and mind. No doubt he’d find your mere presence an insult to him, and we cannot give him any excuse to punish our family.”

Ronald grinds his teeth. Of course high and mighty Gendry Baratheon would take any issue with a bastard who did as he was supposed to do and stayed a bastard. “I understand.”

Father looks at him once more, but then waves his hand dismissively.

Ronald tries to smile. “Goodnight, father.”

“Yes, yes. Go now.”

–

The day they arrive, he’s told to stand in the back with the servants–it wouldn’t due to offend the Lord Mighty on High by ruining his view. He’s intent to stare at the dirt the entire time out of defiance, but when people in the courtyard start whispering, his curiosity gets the better of him. Ronald’s not tall, and so he has to shoulder a few people to the side in order to see the party arriving. The first person he sees can only be the Hound– the infamous lapdog of the Lannisters (yet another reason why Gendry Baratheon is scum). He’s a fearsome sight, half his features unrecognizable under the thick webbing of scar tissue. After him comes…a woman? in blue and gold-tinted armor, her face dour and Ronald has never heard of ladies in armor and so he is caught staring for a moment–the same way one might stare at a fire-eater or a juggler or something.

Then comes the man who can only be Gendry Baratheon. Immediately, Ronald thinks his reputation is well-earned. He can’t make out Lady Stark yet, but he can tell that Gendry dismounts his ugly-looking horse and moves forward without offering to help his pregnant wife down from hers. Ronald reluctantly admits that he’s big, his lumbering frame a build found on the villains in songs. The menacing appearance is enhanced by his shortly cropped hair–the sort of style worn by criminals or hard laborers. Gendry frowns when he addresses his father, not even attempting a genial greeting as befitting a Lord. Father was right when he said Baratheon was there to look down at them.

A slight figure steps forward, then, and Ronald’s eyes go wide.

His first thought is that he’s never seen a woman like her. She wears a man’s clothes, hair in an unraveling braid over her shoulder and still slightly wet from the hard rainfall an hour or so ago. When she walks, it’s with an easy grace that reminds him of cats, but there’s something dangerous about her, too. Ronald looks at her waist and sees at least two weapons–a dagger and a sword of some kind. Her grey eyes are striking even from where he stands.

He hears his father greet her as Lady Arya and his mouth goes dry. It’s not fair that she’s in this situation. That she’s to be a mother to this terrible man’s child, instead of with her real betrothed in Dorne.

The usurper lord walks into the gates of his home (without offering his pregnant wife an arm of escort!) and Ronald hates him that much more.

#asks!#the fury #!my post #fanfic #Anonymous

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nyangibun · 5 years

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GoT S08E02 Thoughts

So due to packing and getting my life sorted, I haven’t had time to watch the latest episode until today. Anyway, here are my thoughts on the episode!

Disclaimer: This is a Jonsa/Pol!Jon-goggled review so please just ignore this if you don’t like that stuff. It’s truly easy to just scroll past.

Even though I expected it, I can’t help but feel so disappointed and annoyed by Dani. How can she lack such self-awareness? She’s sitting there condemning Jaime, a man she doesn’t even know, for the crime of killing her father when said father also murdered Rickard and Brandon Stark. She is acting as if she has undergone some tragic loss when she never met her father and Dani’s circumstances were entirely caused by her own family (although being hunted was Robert Baratheon’s). Jaime is not innocent by any means. There are plenty of crimes he committed he could be tried for; however, killing Aerys the Mad King was not one of them.

Dani also can’t just condemn a man for killing her father when her father was out there murdering innocent people, while a season ago asked Jon to not hold the crimes of her father against her. But then she also can’t say that and still go after the Iron Throne. Basically, her logic is all kinds of messed up. What it boils down to is what Dani wants she gets by fire and blood.

Brienne vouching for Jaime was also pretty unsurprising. I expected this too but damnit it still gave me all the Braime feels and I was loving it!

Two things struck me about this scene though and one was that Brienne doesn’t address Dani, their supposed queen, but Sansa. It makes sense because Brienne is loyal to only Sansa and it’s her authority/leadership she follows. And the second was as Brienne was vouching for Jaime, Sansa’s face changes from being angry to immediately compassion and understanding, even to the point where it looked like she was holding back tears. Sansa doesn’t trust easily, with good reason, but the people she does trust, she does so wholeheartedly and with unwavering faith. If Brienne says Jaime is to be trusted, that he is an honourable man who helped save Sansa because of his promise to Catelyn, then there is no reason for Sansa to doubt that. All is not forgiven, I imagine, but if he has protected Brienne and stayed honourable to her mother, that’s all Sansa needs.

I also like that Jon takes Sansa’s side. Although I think another factor of it was also simply what he said: they need all the men they could get. But Jon trusts Sansa’s judgment and if she is willing to pardon him then he will to, and that’s the nature of their partnership/relationship. This dynamic has come up so many times in the past 3 seasons. They fight and bicker but at the end of the day, no matter what, they’re a team.

I wonder if Dani notices this too. Their dynamic is very much Lord and Lady of Winterfell, not in just the way they compliment each other as leaders but also visually. Additionally, this dynamic is also emphasised by the way others address both of them. They look to Sansa first, Jon second and Dani as an afterthought. For instance, after Jaime is pardoned, Sansa ups and leaves right away without excusing herself to Dani. Immediately after she does, Jon leaves. It could be said Jon is avoiding Dani so he leaves right away to avoid her but why have Sansa leave first and him right after? It looks like he is following after her so they can speak in private. The timing of it feels very pointed. If they wanted to point out that Jon was avoiding Dani, there was no need to have Sansa leave first, before everyone else.

The scene with Tyrion and Dani feels very telling. I have always been of the opinion that sometime soon both Varys and Tyrion will become disillusioned by Dani and see her for who she is (Varys is already beginning to, probably). But what happens here is interesting: Dani basically asks Tyrion if he is a “traitor or fool?” He responds that he’s made mistakes, ie. suggesting he is the ‘fool’ and not a traitor. Throughout the rest of the episode, after Dani’s heart to heart with Jorah, she begins to ease off of Tyrion and tentatively trust him again to lead her to the Iron Throne. I feel like this emphasis and the initial question -- all of it is suggesting that Tyrion may, in fact, become a traitor to Dani.

What makes me believe this, even more, is Tyrion’s conversation with Jaime. Although Jaime doesn’t say anything particularly negative about Dani, it is what he’s not saying that’s telling about how he truly feels about her and who she would become as queen. This isn’t the first time speculations over how good of a queen she would be have been brought up around Tyrion. In general, the topic of Dani as queen is a contentious one in any case for many characters in GoT but the fact that it is consistently brought up to Tyrion and he has to consistently defend her feels like it’s leading to a point where Tyrion won’t be able to defend her actions. He has thus far been justifying her decisions, making excuses and trying to convince others (and himself) that she will be a good and just queen, but Dani is going to do something soon that he won’t be able to explain away and that will be when he will have to reevaluate exactly what kind of world he is helping her build.

But moving on... GENDRYA!! I did not expect this and I have doubts this will happen in the books, but shit, we still got Gendry and Arya getting down and dirty and I am here for it! Although with that said, this makes me worry about the fate of Gendry. I saw a post where someone mentioned this episode was the Starks saying goodbye to the people in their past (separate) lives. If such is the case, would Gendry live to see the end of this? I don’t know if Gendrya was ever a part of GRRM’s plans but I do feel that Gendry has a larger role to play. The fact that he is Robert Baratheon’s bastard hasn’t come up as a plot point at all since the Melissandre. He was supposed to keep his parentage a secret but he has willingly blabbed it to both Jon and Arya. There has to be something bigger that will involve Gendry so I don’t believe he’ll die in this battle. I do however think he might die for his parentage. A foil, perhaps, to Jon’s parentage reveal.

Slight brief moment to squee at Proud Mama Brienne watching her son Podrick teaching someone how to fight. The duo I never knew I needed!

I have to say that this episode has been Braime GOLD. Everything about their interactions have just hit my shippy heart in all the right way. Jaime telling Brienne that he came all the way here to “serve under her command” was basically a love confession. Am I wrong? I mean... please.

Maybe it’s my Jonsa goggles, but I can’t help feeling like Dani and Jorah’s scene serves as a direct contrast to Jon and Dani later. Even in Season 7, they highlighted how Jorah and Dani say goodbye versus the lacklustre dismissive way Jon said goodbye to Dani. Here, they show the way Jorah looks at Dani and attempts to get her to listen to him, but you don’t have that with Jon and Dani at all. Their interactions are physical. There is no scene where they sit and talk about their problems, try to help each other/give advice. There is no sense that they are a team, whereas Jorah and Dani are (granted he is her subordinate but so is Jon) and Jon and Sansa are (an equal partnership). It’s just different and it’s obvious it is.

Anyway, speaking of Sansa and Dani. There is a lot to unpack in their scene together. I feel like everything Sansa has had to learn about appeasing her captors has led her directly to Dani. Although Dani is not more intelligent than Cersei or Petyr or even Ramsay, she is volatile and unpredictable, which makes her more dangerous, especially considering the sheer power she wields. Sansa isn’t dumb enough to underestimate her.

When she tells Dani that Jon loves her and men do stupid things for love, it’s actually the opposite. If we’re going by what Sansa has experienced, it hasn’t really been under the vein of “men doing stupid, terrible things for love”, it has been “women doing stupid, terrible things for love”. Cersei, for instance, has done horrible things in the name of love (for her children) and Sansa has seen this firsthand and had to endure those horrible things from her and her children (or rather Joffrey). Then you have Aunt Lysa who has done and would’ve done terrible things to Sansa in the name of love (for Petyr). And who else has Sansa encountered? Myranda. Her love for Ramsay has made her do seriously evil things and Sansa has witnessed and experienced all of this. The only time she has witnessed a man in love is Petyr (and his ‘love’ is questionable at best) but he hasn’t done terrible, horrible things for love. He has done terrible things for himself under the guise of love. Sansa knows this too. So when she is saying this to Dani, I don’t believe that she is actually talking about Jon at all. She is talking about Dani and she is worried for Jon, worried he is being manipulated by Dani and will pay the consequences for her love. Among that worry is also what I believe is jealousy.

Look at the framing of the question. Dani is trying to make peace with Sansa; she is asking why exactly aren’t they seeing eye to eye as women (which is another thing that annoyed me because this idea that women must support all women is dumb and not feminist; women aren’t infallible to being evil or even just disagreeing on fundamental principles & future goals and that’s what you have here with Sansa and Dani). When Sansa doesn’t answer, there is a pause where the camera is focused on Sansa. She is clearly restraining herself. There is anguish there, so when Dani asks “your brother?”, it’s framed in a way that makes it sound like Dani is confronting Sansa about her feelings about her brother. While Sansa diverts the conversation, Dani does nail it on the head. There is tension between them because of Jon. Another point where they seem to be setting up a love triangle.

There are actually quite a few lines from this scene that feels like misdirection and/or hints towards something else. Sansa saying “families are complicated” feels pointed considering how utterly complicated it really is and how clueless they both are to the extent of their complicated families entangled with each other. Then Dani saying “tell me who manipulated whom?” to emphasise her love for Jon felt like one of those tv trope moments like you never say “it can’t possibly get any worse than this” and in the next moment, it clearly does for the main characters. That line felt like that. As does Dani’s whole spiel about trusting Jon wholeheartedly and him being the second man for whom she does trust that way. Saying “he’s true to his word”. It all feels like an ominous foreshadowing. So imo, Pol!Jon is still well and truly alive.

The ending between Sansa and Dani felt perfect to illustrate what I said above about women not needing to support each other to be considered ‘feminists’. Sansa and Dani are both truly strong and fearless leaders who have risen above the men who deemed them unfit for their gender. That is certainly something worth celebrating, but this is where the similarity ends. Fundamentally, Sansa and Dani have two completely, opposing goals and principles. Dani wants the Iron Throne, by all means, necessary and that includes total and complete control over the Seven Kingdoms. Sansa wants independence for her people and the North; for them to never have to bend the knee to a foreign ruler and go fight in someone else’s war. These two objectives conflict and Sansa is smart to remind Dani definitively that this is something she won’t budge on. Perhaps it will invite Dani’s ire in later episodes so maybe not too smart but as a leader, Sansa is making sure her people’s voices are heard.

Moving forward to the next scene, I first have to say that the Theon and Sansa reunion hug was everything I ever wanted from this!! Their friendship has been something I’ve loved in GoT and I’ve been waiting for this for so long. I could feel the emotion between them and I have to applaud both Sophie and Alfie for their performances.

But speaking of the scene itself, there is only one thing I’d like to point out, which is something I already touched upon. When it comes to authority in the North, Dani may have it in title but it’s Sansa who has the true power and authority. Theon greets Dani but he looks to only Sansa for permission to fight and defend Winterfell.

Okay, so the reveal... I saw a lot of people saying that Jenny’s Song being sung in this episode suggests that Jon will give up his throne for Dani. But... no?? That’s not it. There is a beautiful meta somewhere out here about Jenny of Oldstones and her relation to Sansa Stark, so I suggest finding it if you can (or linking it if you have it). But essentially, this is my opinion: Jenny of Oldstones was from the Riverlands and Duncan Targaryen renounced his throne for her. All of the Stark children have a connection to the Riverlands through their Tully blood on Catelyn’s side, but Sansa has always been the Stark child that had the most connection to her Tully side. Visually, she has the Tully look (as did Robb, Bran, and Rickon) but she is also most visually paralleled to Catelyn (as well as quite literally being said to look similar to Catelyn). House Tully’s words “Family, Duty, Honour” are also most embodied through Sansa’s narrative arc. Therefore, this song could suggest instead that Jon, a Targaryen like Duncan, will renounce his throne for a non-Targaryen girl from the Riverlands, Sansa.

I personally don’t think it means he’d renounced his throne for Dani. It doesn’t make sense for a Targaryen to renounce his throne for a Targaryen. Not to mention that Jenny’s Song and the history surrounding it is more than likely a song about the Prince That Was Promised, which we now know is Jon and not Dani. That difference will become a point of conflict between both Jon and Dani, as we are already given a glimpse of when Jon reveals his parentage to her. Dani’s whole identity has been founded on this idea that she was the last living Targaryen, the true heir to the Iron Throne, and when Melissandre came to see her, she also adopted the title of Prince(ss) That Was Promised in her mind. Dani’s foundation relies on being the ‘most special’ but here comes Jon, who is destroying every wall she had built around herself and not in the good way. It is telling after all that after the reveal the thing Dani focuses on isn’t that they are related but rather that Jon now has a claim to the Iron Throne. She is immediately suspicious and paranoid. Remember, Aerys the Mad King was not always mad. He was actually once generous and wise (had a ‘good heart’) but he began succumbing to his paranoia, believing those around him were out for his power and that led to his ultimate insanity. Dani instantly focusing on Jon’s claim to the throne rather than their relation or that she is no longer alone and has family is evidence of her growing paranoia. It had been building over the past seasons.

That is mainly all I have to say but I do want to just point out some stuff I loved:

- The Group Pow Wow!!! Yeah, that was adorable. I love every single character in that room and them all being there together was great.

- Brienne is finally knighted!! Tormund’s proud dumb face and Jaime knighting made my shippy heart cry happily!

- Lyanna Mormont, may I adopt you??

- The Bromance That Was Promised!! Looooove Ed, Jon and Sam so much!

- WE FINALLY SAW GHOST BUT JFC WHAT A SHITTY CAMEO. GIVE ME MORE GHOST!!!!

- Overall, it was not bad. It’s just... we have 6 episodes and for 2 episodes, nothing really has happened except for the reveal. It’s a lot of moving parts which I know is needed but does that mean the next 4 will be super rushed??

#jonsa #jon x sansa #anti daenerys #anti jonerys #Game of Thrones #actuallyjonsa #got spoilers #spoilers #my thoughts #long post

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7deadlycinderellas · 4 years

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If the summer of our lives could just come again, ch20

Ao3 link

Winterfell

Perhaps a week or so after the others had returned to Winterfell, Arya awakes, tossing and turning, after only an hour of sleep.

With a glance at her sleeping husband (who is out like a light as usual), she pulls on her cloak and steps into her boots. She leaves in the direction of the kitchens in search of a late night snack.

The kitchen is quiet, and still, even the fire having been put out after the cook had left for the night. Arya spies a plate of wintercakes that was left out, and reaches her hand out to sneak one from the platter.

She feels her skin prickle, and jumps at the movement in the room when she realizes she’s not alone.

“Seven hells Arya, if you’re sneaking around at night, don’t freak out on other people who are too!”

It’s Sansa, sitting at the cook’s table, munching on a wintercake she’s already removed from the platter. She nudges it across the table in Arya’s direction. She sits and takes one.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Sansa admits, “I have to adjust to the noises here. In King’s Landing I could hear guards in the halls all night and people from the streets. Here the snow makes everything quiet.”

Arya munches her cake for a few moments more.

“Sorry about you missing the wedding. It was Mother’s decision to push it, not ours. Only thing it really changed is that we can share a bed and the servants don’t know how to address him.”

“Do they spend all their free time studying your midsection absolutely certain Mother only allowed the two of you to marry because you’re with child?”

“You know it. Jokes on them, we didn’t even start laying together properly until like two moons ago.”

She’s still not quite sure what brought it on. Maybe it was just the right time, maybe it was the candle light making Gendry look extra handsome, but something that night just made her take his arm after supper and say ‘take me to bed.”

He hadn’t even reacted at first, just gone, “It’s still sort of early isn’t it?”

She stops where they were, and squeezes his arm a bit tighter. Her eyes meet his, teasingly, and his go wide.

With care, Gendry glances one direction down the hall, and then the other. Satisfied that they are alone, with one swift movement he wraps both arms around her waist and lifts her into his arms. He definitely needs both arms to do it now.

“Oh,” Arya says in surprise, shivering at the sudden feeling of his lips pressed against that spot behind her ear, “You missed me.”

When they get back to her chambers, it’s a struggle for them to get undressed because they can’t stop touching each other. She’s so glad she hadn’t let him cut his hair this time.

When she moves to unbutton his breeches and climb on top of him, Gendry grabs both of her hands, and kisses each finger.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, we have a bed and all night. We’re not going to die tomorrow. Let’s take our time and enjoy this.”

And though Arya’s a little miffed, she kisses his wrist and melts into him. He’s right, and he’s true to word. She doesn’t think a single part of her, from the tip of her nose to the arches on her feet, and everything in between, goes unkissed. Despite his gentleness, he can’t hide his eagerness. It’s as though they hadn’t spent the last year sleeping in the same bed and fooling around.

And after some time Gendry finally settles between her legs and enters her with a measured, careful, ease. When he’s completely sheathed, he pauses, though it looks like it takes him much effort, and searches her face for signs of pain. Finding instead, a sunny grin, he slowly slides back on his knees, and Arya, puts her hands on his shoulders and pulls herself into his lap.

It’s rather unfair, she thinks, that it’s so hard to kiss when you’re smiling so wide. But when she comes around him for the first (second) time, she’s smiling like a loon. And also the other two times that night.

And Arya really hopes her face doesn’t spill quite all these details. She’s still not quite sure how squeamish Sansa is about these sorts of things now.

Sansa, for her credit, looks confused.

“Why did you wait so long?”

Arya shrugs.

“Some of it is that this whole thing still makes me feel like a tiny babe sometimes...but mostly because I’m really scared of going into the long night with child.”

Sansa still furrows her brow, “Maester Luwin could give you moon tea.”

Arya nods.

“And he did, but I’ve heard enough stories that it doesn’t always work to make me feel uneasy.”

She does take the moment to smirk at her sister conspiratorially.

“Know what he told me? He told me all of the herbs needed have been seeded to grow throughout Winter Town, along footpaths and between buildings. Had nothing to do with it of course, he told me. It wouldn’t do for a maester of the Citadel to be seen encouraging immorality. But he also said he didn’t want to hear about some crofter’s daughter sticking herself in the womb with a fireplace poker trying to bleed it out.”

“S’pose it’s nice for someone to think of them,” Sansa remarks bitterly, with a bite of her cake. There’s a long pause before her next comment.

“Everyone always talks about it hurting.”

Arya looks at her quizzically. Whatever she had been expecting to come out of her sister, that was not it.

“It hurt some, the time before,” she says slowly, “course, I did sort of throw myself in headfirst without much thinking. It didn’t this time. I think those stories are mostly made up to excuse the behavior of clumsy, oafish husbands who likely care very little if they’re wives enjoy it or not. It’s a pretty delicate process, but I certainly don’t think it HAS to hurt.”

“Unless he wants it to.”

The silence returns. Arya has no words whatsoever for what Sansa went through with Ramsey before, could still picture the scars that dotted her sister’s body even though they were long gone.

Mouselike, Sansa restarts her conversation.

“In the south, I spent a lot of my free time learning to play cyvasse with Lord Tyrion and Princess Myrcella. After Myrcella left for Dorne, he still played with me often.”

Arya raises an eyebrow. She knows all this from the letters Sansa managed to send home over the years, and she wonders where it’s going.

“Sometime this last year I became possessed by the idea that maybe when I had married him before, maybe I should have let him take my maidenhead. Even if I had still run afterwards, Ramsey likely wouldn’t have been interested in a bride who wasn’t a virgin. And whatever faults Tyrion may have, real or imagined, he wouldn’t have enjoyed hurting me.”

“Sansa,” Arya interrupts sharply, “You can’t think like that. You were fourteen years old and a prisoner. Even if he wasn’t as brutal as Ramsey, fourteen year old you would have been terrified and still would have considered it a violation. Whatever feelings you’ve developed for Tyrion came later.”

Arya’s voice softens.

“You were always the one going on about love and romance. It shouldn’t be surprising you managed to scrounge it up out of the ashes.”

Sansa laughs.

“You should hear your own life from the outside. If things hadn’t gone the way they did, there would have been songs about you and Gendry. A pair of lost children find each other on the road, and they turn out to be a lost princess and a king’s bastard? And you find each other again and make love before a huge battle that you not only miraculously both survive, but that you, yourself, had a hand in ending?”

Arya rolls her eyes and changes the subject. She doesn’t want to linger on the bits of her life that were out of one of her sister’s dreams.

“Anything actually interesting happening in the south?”

“Interesting it putting it lightly, it’s a fucking mess down there.”

Arya quirks an eyebrow at her sister’s language.

“What? It’s true. Joffrey is king, even if he’s mostly his grandfather’s puppet. Stannis left the crownlands to aid the wall- Ser Davos was nearly inconsolable to hear that three of his sons left home to join him as well. Iron born ships are attacking Storm’s End for no suitably explored reason. I have no idea what on earth Danaerys is going to do with the place once she gets here. Oh, and Littlefinger is clearly still plotting since he sent that sellsword after us on the Kingsroad but still sent us an invitation to him and Aunt Lysa’s wedding.”

“What?”

Wait.

“Neither of us mentioned that did we?”

Arya’s glare is the only response she needs.

“Well, we were going to have to talk about it with Father and Mother in the morning anyhow, so lets just go back to bed.”

Arya gets up without another comment, but stares after Sansa as they separate in the hallway. Can’t believe her sister’s been home this long and didn’t think fit to mention that they’d been attacked.

The next morning turns into a flurry of activity. There’s more ravens at once than there’s been in ages.

“There’s another invitation to Lysa’s wedding,” Catelyn comments, wondering at her sister’s mental state if she’d forgotten they had already sent one.

“Here’s one from Myrcella,” Sansa adds, “She claims some of the sailors in Dorne have claimed to have seen dragons on the water.”

“Oh,” Ned says, reading his, “It appears Queen Margaery is now with child.”

Sansa lets out a sigh. That’s not going to be fun to handle when Danaerys lands in Westeros. She opens the next raven that has arrived. Reading it’s contents, she tucks it in a pocket. At her parents look, she says.

“Something that might end up being important.”

Bran makes a noise of disgust reading his.

“It’s from the wall. Thorne is declaring Jon dead, lost to over the wall.”

That completely ruins the atmosphere for breakfast. Benjen had been declared much the same in the past year. Commander Mormont would have never left a lost comrade go forgotten, but Thorne did not seem to share his sentiment.

Bran grabs his cane and stands up roughly. Meera jumps beside him.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m sending Septima over the wall. Enough of the wildlings have fled that I’m not too worried about other wargs. If Jon is still alive over there I’ll find him.”

Meera nods, and stands, grabbing his hand, to accompany him. Ned spares a glance at their joined hands and Sansa has to stifle a giggle.

Sansa returns her attention to Ned and Catelyn.

“What are we going to do about Aunt Lysa?”

“I don’t think I can avoid it without a really good explanation, she is my sister after all. And the trip from White Harbor to Gulltown isn’t too long a journey, though getting to the Eyrie is a bit trying.”

Sansa nods, “I’ll go with you then.”

Catelyn looks concerned for a moment, but then nods.

“I can’t accompany you two,” Ned realizes, “Robb and I need to travel to the Dreadfort to deal with the free folk.”

Arya cuts in,

“Yes, that should be a near top priority. The free folk speak civilly of Robb and the way he has dealt with them, but they don’t know you and won’t respect you if you don’t show them the same treatment. They don’t have any loyalty to names.”

“And Mother and I going to the Vale alone might actually work out better for us.”

At everyone’s confused looks, she elaborates.

“I told you. Littlefinger’s prime objective seems to be to seed enough chaos that things implode around him and he can seize control amongst it. If he believes there might be a rift in your marriage-”

Ned and Cat both look uncomfortable at this cold calculation of their situation. Things had been smoothed a bit since they had returned, but it was still not completely healed.

“Then I feel like he might get cocky and I feel I could take advantage of that.”

Catelyn’s eyes stay on her daughter. She speaks of the other man in such a manner that she wonders what he was to her in her other life. She’s so guarded about it.

Well, it seems they’ll find out eventually.

Over the Wall

“That sword has a name you know?”

Ygritte glances at the sword in her hand and then back at Jon. They’d been sparring outside the cave when he’d volunteered that bit of information, after she’d told him that she’d taken to calling her axe Wild Thing. She uses the sword well enough, but goes back and forth when they spar, and she says she thinks she prefers the axe.

“Did the tree tell you that?”

Jon nods. Truly, he had been mostly kidding when he’d asked, but then the weirwood showed him .

“It’s called Dark Sister, it was Visenya Targaryan’s.”

“I guess it’s good to keep it in the family again.”

Jon feels his neck flush, but doesn’t respond. Ygritte doesn’t know too much of the baggage that came with the knowledge that he was a Targaryan, and he is grateful she never feels the need to make jokes about him marrying his sisters.

“One of your sister’s liked swords right? Maybe you should give it to her when you see her again.”

Arya. She’d been eleven with the face of twenty when he saw her last. The tiny sword he’d had made for her all those years ago. She’d be seventeen, or close to, now, he thinks, the blade probably long outgrown. He hopes she still uses it.

“Maybe I will, but for now, you keep it. Wild Thing won’t do a thing against a walker.”

She nods, in understanding. Some of the Others have wandered past the cave entrance, alone thankfully, seemingly. They take turns leaving the cover of the wards to pick them off, though more of them always seem to find their way again, seemingly heading for the Land of Always Winter.

Rowan had advised him some moons ago, for him to ask the weirwood to show him how the others came to be. When it was done, Jon had turned to her in horror. She had merely let her head drop in shame, and he found he had no words to rebuke her.

“We should go back inside,” Ygritte interrupts him, “The sun’s getting low.”

When they return to the camp, they are surprised to find the others crowded around the fire, Gilly sitting across from Aemon, with an incredibly bewildered expression on her face.

“Sweetheart,” she starts, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Aemon has been talking for years, in full sentences too. His little voice is clear.

“Why don’t you call me Sam anymore? It was my name.”

“When did this start up?” Jon asks Gilly, when she turns to greet him.

“I found him wandering by the roots of the weirwood earlier,” Gilly admits, “I have before. I find him there a lot actually, pretending to talk to it, like you do.”

Jon feels a queer sensation in his stomach. Rowan seems to have a similar thought.

“I’m not sure he was pretending.”

Jon turns to Rowan in shock.

“How could he- it took you so long to even teach me simple words.”

“Children are far more adept at learning any sort of language than adults are,” Rowan muses, “A child raised in an environment where they constantly hear more than one language picks them both up with ease.”

She reaches and pats Aemon’s hair.

“And perhaps your son is just very clever at picking these things up.”

“But-” Jon’s mind is racing. He can’t understand why the boy would think his name was Sam. The only Sam he can think of even is the fat boy from the watch.

“I think we are discovering more about the nature of a tree’s memory than was known before.”

Jon thinks on it.

“You think the weirwoods still remember the life you had from before.”

“It makes sense truly, the weirwoods know nothing of time, of past or of future. It’s why they can show you so much of the world.”

Ygritte bursts into the conversation.

“I smashed my skull against the dead stump of the one above us,” she recalls, “That’s when I remembered my before life.”

Rowan’s face turns reverent.

“There’s a reason my people treated the weirwoods as gods. They certainly have sight beyond what either of our people could understand.”

Jon has plenty of time to muse on this, as he eats his supper of venison broth with moss.

Later that night, he leans forward and presses a kiss to Ygritte’s shoulder. Satisfied that she’s asleep, he quietly stands and pulls his boots on.

He can get to the roots of the young weirwood without even a light now, but he brings one anyway just to be safe. Sitting beneath it in the night is eerie, but he still wants to do this.

Touching the base of the tree, he asks it of Samwell Tarly, now.

With his first glimpse, Jon laughs. Sam at the Citadel, sent to train to replace Maester Aemon. It made perfect sense, and he supposes Thorne might have been far too pleased to get rid of him. And even if Sam had resisted, hadn’t wanted to leave the wall under siege and one of his only friends lost on the other side, he would have adapted. He would have found himself in his element.

Jon takes a break after, and with a deep breath, he tries now. He asks of Samwell Tarly, before.

He sees some the same, of Sam in Oldstown. But to his shock, he sees Gilly with him, and her child. None of her sister’s are there, but both of them seem quite fond of Sam.

He laughs. Sam was just the type of person who could wander himself into finding a woman and child, and also find himself in not one but two roles that demanded celibacy.

In some of what he sees though, he sees himself, and it’s the strangest thing that’s ever passed through his mind. Jon hasn’t looked at his own face in ages, and has no idea if he resembles this vision at all. He cut his hair and beard when they became cumbersome, but other than that, he has no idea of his own appearance, or his own demeanor.

He’s jolted back from the vision to discover Ygritte has followed behind him.

“You’re a right fool Jon Snow, if you think I can sleep without you grinding on my arse.”

He rewards her with a sheepish smile as she sits beside him.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she starts, “Coming out here, to ask that thing about your last life, since you can’t remember.”

He laughs. He supposes he is not a subtle person.

“I wasn’t actually.”

That takes Ygritte back.

“I thought about it, and I might if I end up feeling like I really need to know something, but...I think I’m better off not remembering. I don’t think I’m the same person I would be from then.”

Ygritte’s face following this is hard to read.

“I’m not sure you are either.”

She bites her lip before her next words.

“I would have said before that I was in love with you, that that was why I ran so furiously into the battle where I died. I would still say I love you, but it’s different now.”

She takes one of his hands and presses it to her chest over her heart.

“Out here, I actually feel like I know you. I watch you with Rowan and the other women and it’s like you’re unburdened. You barely spoke of your family before, now I feel as though I’ve met them. Out here I’m not worried if you’re still a crow, and you’re not worried that I’ll stab you in the back for a lark.”

“Much.”

She snorts. He hasn’t worried about that in ages.

“I may not be able to say I knew you before,” Jon responds, “But out here I can say I trust you to have my back.”

He reaches out, and slowly pulls her onto his lap, one hand winding it’s way through her bright hair.

“And if you want the honest truth,” Ygritte mumbles, her voice muffled, “I can tell being up here is good for you. You don’t brood nearly as much.”

That makes him laugh, and they sit together like that for a while, before stepping gently along the cave to rejoin the group.

That night, Jon dreams of birds and catapults. He can’t even begin to make sense of that one.

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #gendrya #jongritte #time travel fix it #fic

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heavenlydisaster · 5 years

Text

What We’ve Become (A Gendrya Fic)

Arya had been walking back from the training grounds when the first dragon flew overhead. A sight that would be burnt in her mind forever. All black with red in its wings like the fire that lived in its belly was seeping out. The second dragon was smaller, but no less exhilarating to behold. She had turned then and made her way to the tallest bridge in Winterfell.

She could see the Queen’s caravan, but even from her perch, she was only glimpsing a portion of the armies. Horse lords from the plains of Essos littered the fields with more horses than Arya had ever seen in her life. Along the road, cart after cart of dragon glass was being wheeled toward Winterfell’s forge. The only thing capable of killing the White Walkers beside Valyrian steel and good old fashioned fire. And above the slew of soldiers, the twin dragons circled in big, lazy lopes.

Arya knew she should have been down in the courtyard with Bran and Sansa. She was meant to be down there greeting their new queen. More than that, she knew she should want to be down there. Jon was down there. She hadn’t seen Jon since he’d given her Needle and set off for the Wall. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave the bridge. To tear her eyes from the magnificent creatures that were long thought extinct.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, watching the dragons and eyeing the caravan, but the sun had arched its way high into the sky. Footsteps crunched in the snow behind her. She stilled. She didn’t recognize the footsteps. She kept her eyes trained on the swooping beasts, but her attention was now on her newly arrived company.

“Arya?”

She turned then, at the familiar voice. His eyes were wide as saucers as he looked at her. Arya took him in as well. His hair was longer. His face harder. But it was something in his eyes that caught her interest. He was different. Different like Bran was different. Like Sansa was different. Like she was different. But there was more to him. Something she recognized, but couldn’t place quite yet.

“Is it really you?” He asked, breathlessly.

She smiled. She had to work to put the expression on her face. Had there ever been a time when she had smiled with ease? Jon had always been her favorite. She should be grinning like a fool at the sight of him. But too much had happened for her to smile so easily. She had seen too much. Lost too much.

Jon didn’t seem to notice her struggle. He crossed the distance between them and scooped her up into his arms. He’d gotten smaller. She noticed as he held her. Or she’d gotten bigger. She hadn’t thought so before, but she used to have to jump to put her arms around his neck, now she reached it with ease.

As if suddenly sensing Arya’s internal conflict, Jon released her and stepped back. He was beaming. Smiling with his whole face the way she should’ve been. She mimicked his expression, forcing a lightness she did not feel. One of the dragons screamed in the background drawing both of their eyes back to the sky.

Two dragons, she remembered why that was wrong. The Dragon Queen was meant to have three dragons. Three dragons like the Targaryen sigil. One was missing.

“An army of the dead,” Arya said. She had heard Jon and a small band of warriors had travelled beyond the Wall to capture a Wight. They must be more fearsome than any of the stories would have her believe if they were capable of taking down a dragon.

“I’ll protect you,” Jon promised. “You, Sansa, and Bran I’ll keep you all safe.”

He didn’t understand. She wasn’t asking for protection. She only wanted to know what he knew. He’d fought off the White Walkers more than once and he was still standing. Still, Arya smiled at the sentiment. It was easier this time.

“Maybe I’ll protect you.”

Jon laughed. Five years before, even three years before, she would have gotten angry at his laughing. Arya didn’t get upset when people underestimated her anymore. She could always twist it to her advantage. She could walk freely wherever she pleased and if anyone tried to harm her, they’d be too close to evade her blade.

“You should come down and meet Daenerys. She’s nothing like Cersei, I promise.” Jon said after he finished laughing.

“Maybe later.”

Jon frowned. The old Arya could never say no to him. Poor Jon. He still didn’t know that the old Arya was dead. No matter how hard Arya was trying to revive her.

“You know, if you met her, she might introduce you to her dragons.”

Arya had to admit, that was pretty tempting. She frowned out at the caravan. The dragons were circling each other. They were clearly missing their sibling. They kept letting out terrible cries. To anyone else, they might sound frightening, but Arya could hear the mournful sigh in them. Below, the horse lords and Unsullied were setting up tents. Winterfell wasn’t big enough to house them all within its walls. Such a large sweeping army and they were all here for Daenerys Targaryen. Arya turned to face her brother completely.

“Is that Needle?” Jon asked, nodding to her hip.

Arya’s hand dropped to the hilt almost on instinct. She gave her brother a small smile. She remembered practicing with Micah after Jon had given it to her. She remembered her dancing lessons with Syrio after her father had found her with it. She remembered spearing the stable boy through the gut after her father was arrested. She remembered losing it when the gold cloaks had come for Gendry. She remembered Polliver using it to kill Lommy. Arya curled her fist around the grip.

“I’m not sure which gift was better; the sword you gave me or the lessons father arranged to help me use it.”

Jon’s brows shot up in surprise. “And have you? Used it?”

Arya patted the hilt. Her expression darkened. “Not as much as I would have liked.”

“We’re down in the hall,” Jon said after a beat. “There’s a few more due to come back by tonight. Daenerys’ general, translator, and our new smith are all down with the Dothraki now, but they should be back for dinner.” When Arya didn’t reply, he turned to walk away.

“You’ve seen him.” She said, deciding on that look in his eyes.

“Hm?” He asked, turning back to her.

“The God of Death. You’ve seen him.”

Jon paled. His brow knit together in confusion. “Who told you that?”

“It’s in your eyes.” She decided against telling Jon about her time in the House of Black and White. “I’ve seen that look before. I knew a man who’d been killed and brought back six times by a Priest for the Lord of Light. Who brought you back?”

“A Priestess called Melisandre.” Jon confessed. “That man that was brought back six times wouldn’t happen to be Beric Dondarrion?”

It was Arya’s turn to be surprised. “You’ve heard of him?”

Jon laughed again. “I’ve fought with him. He was with us when we went beyond the Wall. The Priest who brought him back all those times didn’t make it, but Beric is here with us.”

Arya scowled. “I’ll kill him.” She snarled.

Jon put a hand on Arya’s shoulder. “He’s a good fighter. We need good fighters. Whatever squabbles you have with him, stow them away.”

Arya huffed. She could spare Lord Beric. She didn’t have to like it, but she didn’t have to kill him. The Red Witch wasn’t going to be so lucky. Beric may have sold him, but it was the witch that killed him. When she saw her again, as the witch had promised, it would be the same minute that Arya cut the woman’s throat.

She turned back to the dragons. Jon stayed for a few minutes more, but left when he realized Arya would say no more. She stayed on the bridge until the dragons disappeared from the sky, following the sun. She wondered where they had decided to take up roost for the night. Winterfell was not fit to house such large beasts and Arya knew of no caves for them to sleep in.

Her stomach growled and it would seem she could avoid it no longer. She had meant to take a bath after her training session that morning. Sansa had insisted that while she need not wear a dress, Arya must at least be clean for the Queen’s arrival. Arya sniffed at herself. She didn’t smell terrible. Besides she had no intentions of getting close enough for the Dragon Queen to smell her.

Arya turned for the great hall. It was time to go make nice with the Targaryen girl.

“Arya!” Sansa scolded in an impeccable imitation of their mother. “Where on earth have you been?”

Arya stared at her sister stoically until the older girl folded and looked away. Sansa was still scared of her though she did everything she could to hide it. Arya knew just as she knew that Sansa truly had nothing to fear. Arya could no more harm her sister than she could birth a dragon.

“You Grace,” Sansa said, addressing the woman to her left, “may I introduce my younger sister, Arya.”

Arya looked at the silver haired woman. She’d heard tales of the Targaryens all her life. How their beauty was otherworldly. Arya could see now that those tales held true. Daenerys was gorgeous. She had creamy skin to rival Sansa’s. No wonder her sister despised the woman so much though Arya knew it had to do with more than just her looks. Sansa had wanted nothing more her whole life than to be queen. She never would with Daenerys and her dragons around.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Arya.” Her voice was stronger than Arya would have guessed. Strong, but undeniably kind. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Arya flicked her eyes over to Jon. She noticed how close he was sitting to the Queen and remembered how he had called her Daenerys. No title. Arya bit her lip and turned her eyes back to Daenerys. She smiled.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to what I’ve heard of you. And, please, it’s just Arya, Your Grace. I’m no lady.”

An amused smile danced across the Queen’s plump lips. Arya couldn’t blame Jon. Any man would find a woman like her irresistible. What could it be like, Arya wondered, to wear that face?

“Do we need to make room?” Daenerys asked, unaware of the horrendous thoughts happening in Arya’s head. She looked around the long table for a spare seat for Arya. Arya looked beyond Jon for the first time and saw that she recognized one more person at the table. Tyrion Lannister.

“No need, Your Grace, I am perfectly happy sitting down here.” She gave a small bow and turned away. She’d be asking Jon about the imp’s presence the moment they were alone again.

“Should’ve guessed you’d be skulking around here.”

Arya felt every muscle in her body lock up. She turned her gaze up, up, up until she saw his face and could deny it no longer. The Hound was standing in front of her. The bloody fucking Hound.

“You should be dead.” Arya told him as if he had forgotten.

“He should be going hungry,” Jon muttered from his seat. Arya looked at him curiously.

“How was I to know, eh? You and your stupid mission.” The Hound growled.

“You’re lucky Queen Daenerys was there to save our asses.” Jon snapped back.

“Not all our asses, Lord Snow.” Arya cast her eyes on Beric Dondarrion. He smiled down at her. “Glad to see you made it home safely, little lady.”

Arya scowled at him. “Shame you didn’t have the chance to sell me off, too.”

Beric opened his mouth. Arya just knew he was going to give her more yarn about how it was for ‘the greater good’ or whatever. Luckily, Jon stepped in. Probably more to keep Arya from gutting the scoundrel in front of his new lady love.

“Lord Beric, could I see you for a bit?” Jon was around the table and ushering Beric away from Arya and out of the hall.

“Arya!” Sansa hissed at her.

She looked back at her sister. Sansa swiped her hand through the air in front of her neck and mouthed the words ‘cut it out’. Arya rolled her eyes. The Hound stepped around Arya and bowed in front of Sansa and Daenerys. He may have earned his way off her list, but Arya still didn’t exactly like the Hound. He was the antithesis to her father in terms of what a man should be. He wasn’t noble or refined, but he was alive. She couldn’t decide if that made her happy or not.

“Where’s Bran?” Arya asked Sansa.

“Same place as always.” Sansa answered, bored.

Arya took a plate of food and sat down to eat. The hall was brimming with people of all sorts. She finished her first plate and went back for seconds. She hadn’t thought about eating since seeing the dragons. Now she couldn’t get enough. She downed two glasses of ale and sighed, content only after her third helping.

Arya wiped her mouth and stood. She had no desire to stay in present company any longer than necessary. Jon was still away with Beric when Arya made her way back to the long table to say her goodnights. Daenerys smiled at her when she approached again. Arya forced herself to smile back.

“Are you leaving?”

“I have other matters to attend to.” Arya said delicately.

“Are you sure? I would like to know you better. All I have to go on are the stories your brother and Lord Tyrion have told me on our journey here and what little your sister seems to be willing to divulge.”

Arya eyed the imp who seemed entirely too focused on the plate in front of him. Arya smiled at Daenerys politely.

“There really isn’t much else to know.”

“I don’t believe that. You escaped a whole army of men when you were what? Ten? Anyone capable of something like that must have only grown more skilled. And you carry a sword and a dagger. I don’t know many women that do that.”

“Maybe some other time?” Arya said, desperate to leave the hall.

Daenerys’ face dropped. “Alright, then.”

Arya gave a small bow to Daenerys and a nod to her sister before moving for the exit. She only made it a few steps before the door opened and a small troop of people lumbered inside. A dark skinned man with the grimmest face Arya’d ever seen stormed inside followed by a beautiful dark skinned woman and two soldiers. The door shut behind the fifth person.

Arya’s heart stopped. His hair was shorter. Almost nonexistent making his ears stick out comically. But it was him. Arya gave her head a small shake. It couldn’t be him. The witch had killed him. His blue eyes locked on hers. His mouth fell open in surprise. Then, a slow, delicious smile spread across his face.

He stopped a foot or two in front of her, still smiling that easy grin of his and Arya still couldn’t find her breath. She watched every movement. She was sure it was still loud in the hall, but her ears were filled with buzzing. Gendry dropped into a low, ridiculous bow.

“M’lady,” he greeted.

Arya let out a small, strangled noise that seemed to start her breathing again. Gendry straightened back up and looked at her with concern. Arya’s whole body was shaking as she threw her arms around him, hopping up to catch him around the neck. She felt a bit of pride in how strong she’d become when he had to take a step back to keep his balance.

“You’re alive,” she heard herself gasp. “You’re alive. You’re alive! Gendry, you’re alive!” She marveled.

Gendry’s strong arms were around her, squeezing her like they used to. She buried her face in his neck, surprised at the tears she felt on her cheeks. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried.

“You, too, though it’s not so much a surprise. You’ll be the only one of us to survive this mess. I’m sure of it.” Gendry answered, still holding her tight.

“And you!” Arya argued. She had him back! She couldn’t think about losing him again, now.

Gendry set her down, keeping his hands on her arms. He smiled down at her face. His eyes were shining with tears, too, though they had not yet fallen. He reached up with one hand and tugged the ends of her hair.

“Look how long it’s gotten.” He teased. “You almost look like a real princess.”

Arya laughed, surprising even herself and reached her hand up to rub his nearly bald head. “You’ve gone and cut all yours off! Wanted a sneak preview of what you’ll look like in thirty years?” She teased back. She hadn’t teased anyone in years. She hadn’t laughed in longer.

“You come work a forge with hair like that, your head’ll catch fire.” Gendry told her, touching his head, self-consciously.

Arya was still trembling. All she wanted was to hug Gendry again and never let go. It was an insane desire. There was an army of undead soldiers marching for them as they spoke and all she wanted was to take Gendry and disappear into the woods.

“Excuse me.” Arya looked up to see the dark skinned woman standing beside them. “Queen Daenerys would like to speak to you.” She told Gendry.

Gendry looked startled at the woman’s appearance. He looked around, abashedly and nodded. His hands dropped from Arya’s arms and he stepped away from her. Arya’s heart squeezed. She didn’t want him to be even one step away from her. She fought down the impulse to cling to his shirt.

Arya shook herself. It was ridiculous. She was acting like someone gone mad. She glanced up at Sansa who was giving her a smug little smile. Arya scowled at her and turned her back, hurrying out of the hall and well away from Gendry.

So distracted was she, that she didn’t notice the drunken red haired man slumped against the stables. She rammed her face into his back toppling them both into the mud. Arya growled and jumped to her feet. The red haired man didn’t stand back up. Arya had a sudden fear that he was dead. She reached down and pulled him up until he was sitting.

“Hey, hey, are you dead?” Arya demanded.

“Nnno.” The man answered. “Not yet.” His eyes were shut and he was swaying.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Tormund.” He hummed. “You seen a woman around here?”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s a big woman. Like a bear. Big, blonde bear. Lovely woman.” He slurred.

Arya stood up and put her hands on her hips. The filthy drunk was covered in mud and searching for Brienne. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Brienne knew this man in the first place unless it was through combat.

“Arya!” Gendry called behind her. She yelled at herself to behave. It was just Gendry. She didn’t know why she was acting like it was a big deal. He wasn’t a dragon. He was just Gendry.

Just Gendry grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. “Hey, what did you run off for?”

“I didn’t run off. I was already leaving when you came in.” Arya told him coolly.

“Leaving?” Gendry parroted. “Leaving Winterfell?”

“Leaving for bed.” Arya clarified, though she didn’t think she should need to.

“Oh.” Gendry tucked his hands under his arms and tried to hide a shiver. “I just thought….”

“You’re the new smith Jon was talking about, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Gendry laughed. “Well, there’s loads of new smiths right now, yeah? The forge is being added onto as we speak. Jon’s made me overseer. Sounds like a good thing, but any mistakes in the weapons comes down on me now.”

Arya smiled at him. “You can handle it. You’re the best.”

Gendry smiled and looked down at the mud and snow at their feet. He looked back at the hall when the door opened and a couple soldiers filtered out. He cleared his throat.

“Surprised to see the Hound still walking around. I figured he was good as dead the second you laid eyes on him.”

Arya frowned. “Why would you assume that?”

“Well he was on your list, wasn’t he? Joffrey, Cersei, Ilyn Payne, Meryn Trant, the Mountain, and the Hound.” Gendry recited.

“You remembered my list?”

Gendry chuckled. “Arya, you must’ve recited that list in my ear a million times a night. Sometimes when I’m working, I start saying it as I swing my hammer. I heard Meryn Trant was killed in a brothel in Braavos and Joffrey choked to death at his own wedding. You take out the Hound and you’ll be half through your list.”

Arya shook her head. “I already took him off.”

“Why?”

Arya shrugged. “I just did.”

“Well someone oughta kill him after what he did North of the Wall.” Gendry grumbled.

Arya stared at him. “North of the Wall. You went North of the Wall?”

Gendry smirked. “Jealous?”

Arya smacked his arm. “Idiot!”

Gendry laughed. He nodded to the red haired man on the ground behind her. “He went, too. I think you’d really like it up there, you know. It’s all wild and dangerous. We were attacked by an undead bear soon as we stepped foot outside Eastwatch. Oh, you’d love it.”

Arya rolled her eyes. She was a bit jealous, but there was something else. She was angry that Gendry had risked White Walkers and nearly got himself killed before she’d gotten to see him again.

They stood in silence for a bit. There was so much to say between them it seemed neither of them knew where to start. She didn’t know what to ask him first. She wanted to know more about what happened with the White Walkers. She wanted to know where he’d been all this time. How he had survived the Red Witch. Why he hadn’t tried to find her sooner to let her know he wasn’t dead.

“What happened?” Gendry asked, beating her to it.

Arya looked up at him. Searching for clarity. Was he asking why she hadn’t chased after him when they’d tied him up and thrown him in the back of a cart like luggage? Why she hadn’t fought tooth and nail to keep him at her side?

“When I heard about the Red Wedding – about your brother and mother – I kept waiting for news of you. The Brotherhood was taking you to them and I thought if they’d taken you there, you’d be dead. I thought, surely not. Not Arya. I didn’t know your brother, but I knew you and I thought maybe they could get the best of the King in the North, but not my Arya.”

“I got there in the middle of it all.” Arya told him, ignoring the thrill that ran up her spine at hearing him call her ‘his Arya.’ “I couldn’t do anything to stop it, but I saw. I saw when they paraded my brother’s body around with Grey Wind’s head sewn on his body where his head should’ve been. But the Freys didn’t know I was there. They didn’t see me. None of them ever saw me until it was too late.” She finished, darkly.

“That was you, then? The Frey massacre?”

Arya scoffed. “Massacre. They only drank poison. It was a kinder death than any of them deserved.”

Gendry frowned. “How many people have you killed now?” The question was only curious. There was no judgement behind it. Not like when Sansa had asked. Or demanded. Arya shrugged. “You don’t know or you don’t want to tell me?”

“I guess I just stopped counting.”

There was a pause. The silence between them twisted in the air and threatened to strangle the very breath from Arya. She didn’t know if she could handle Gendry being horrified by her. Anyone but him.

“So unladylike.” He said at last.

Arya’s eyebrows shot up and she barked out a surprised laugh. Relief washed over her. She pushed Gendry, lightly. He caught her hand up when she pulled away and gave it a small squeeze.

“What about you? I thought for sure that witch was going to kill you.”

“No.” Gendry said. He flushed, curiously. “She was going to, but she didn’t.”

Arya frowned at his red face, visible even in the low moonlight. Behind her, Tormund let out a laugh that sounded more like he was choking. Arya looked down at him.

“She tied the boy to the bed and had her way with ‘im!” He crowed.

Arya looked back to Gendry for denial. He only burned brighter. Arya felt a crazy, jealous rage in her gut. It didn’t make any sense, the jealousy. The rage she understood completely.

“She put leeches on me.” Gendry muttered pathetically.

“She didn’t kill you.” Arya snapped back.

Gendry was quiet. He shot a withering glare at Tormund on the ground who only laughed harder. Arya was warring with herself. She wanted to leave. To go to bed. But at the same time, she didn’t want to let Gendry out of her sight. Not ever again.

Arya huffed and turned for her room. Gendry’s hand shot out to grab her, but she evaded him neatly.

“Arya, come back!” Gendry cried. “What about Tormund?”

“You like redheads so much, you take care of him.” She lobbed back without stopping.

Also available HERE on AO3!!!

#Gendrya #Game of Thrones #AO3 #fanifiction #gendrya reunion #gendry waters #arya stark

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