#and the fact that /Arya Stark/ is considered to be the current Lady of Winterfell by the majority of Westeros

[fromtheseventhhell]

I can tell I'm Arya-pilled to the max because I'll see other Arya stans talking about the questionable morality of her executing Daeron and I'm just like "That was so Lady of Winterfell-coded"

[catofoldstones]

Why do antis act as if Alayne is a completely different character from Sansa??? Like... that is Sansa, just under a different disguise. It's still her. It's no different than Arya currently with different identities. But the way they talk its as if Sansa suddenly morphed into a different girl and everything about her old identity is now dead and now Sansa Stark doesn't exist.

I really don't know how to describe this but I've seen posts saying things like Sansa is 'too deep' into the Alayne persona and can't go back to her old name. Thats not how this works???

Because it pushes their agenda that Sansa is not a member of House Stark and therefore not important to the story. Sansa forever being Alayne eliminates the threat she poses to Arya becoming the queen in the north and/or Jon, Dany, Arya becoming this ragtag group of ya teenage underdogs who save the world from the Others. It’s the same idea as behind the theory that Sansa is going to die or is no longer a Stark because Lady died.

They also don’t want to see Sansa in a position of power because they still blame her for lying about Arya hitting Joffrey (never mind realising who the real villains here are), and later getting Ned killed by ratting him out to Cersei (which has been debunked time and again). Furthermore, if she is Alayne and not Sansa, then she clearly does not have the Starks’ best interests at heart considering that she is Baelish’s protégé and holds similar motivations as him - which actualises her as a villain. And if she’s a villain, then she obviously can’t be the Lady/Queen of Winterfell, or just someone who deserves a happy ending in the least. Are you looking at the mental gymnastics?

As for Sansa being too deep into Alayne, I can only say that she constantly thinks of herself as Sansa during the Alayne chapters. In fact, she thinks like she is Sansa, not Alayne, no matter how hard she tries.

The Freys had broken all laws of hospitality when they’d murdered her lady mother and her brother at the twins…

Alayne I, AFFC

Before this she’s just reminding Baelish who she actually is saying Bronze Yohn will know who she really is as soon as he looks at her. She blurts out Jon Snow’s name and thinks of him fondly. None of which she would do if she were “in too deep” Alayne. Her pre-released TWOW chapter is littered with her still thinking as Sansa.

She felt alive again, for the first since her father… since Lord Eddard Stark had died.

For just a little while, as she ran, she forget who she was, and where, and found herself remembering bright cold days at Winterfell, when she would race through Winterfell with her friend Jeyne Poole, with Arya running after them trying to keep up.

Alayne I, TWOW

She others Alayne a lot too, as if Alayne is a friend she knows and not her own disguise.

“No, my lady. I am from Gulltown.” And I am not, though Alayne was born there.

Alayne I, TWOW

And these are just some of the examples. Moreover, the recently leaked outline, even in its scarce information, has bashed the final nail in the coffin of this argument and that has obviously caused much anxiety amongst the antis. Never mind it not working like that because these arguments are clearly bad faith and hold no water next to the deluge of evidence saying otherwise.

[agentrouka-blog]

I would (partially) forgive condal & co of their writing crimes against humanity (😂) if they insert whatever house whent theory is because it would be hilarious as fuck (highly doubt it though with how much TB a$$ kissing they are doing).

I may searched about this upon seeing your post and read some reddit posts and saw some TB are calling this TG's delulu fantasy but seriously? It would be TG's biggest mic drop that aha, the current Starks actually have Targ blood, but do they know? Nope. Would they care? They'd probably have one second of existential crisis and an "ew" then going back to being badass and proud Starks and conveniently forget this.

Although it would still be nice that they don't have a shed of Targ in them because their family fought the long night even without dragons so duh they are quite capable and magical in their own right.

But you know, it also reminds me of this quote

"The northern girl. Winterfell’s daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window."

And how Sansa is currently the heir presumptive of Harrenhal as she is sill posing as Baelish's daughter.

But I see this more as an Alys mond also being a foreshadowing to Jonsa than the Starks being A&A's descendants?

(Alayne would not be heir presumptive of Harrenhal because she is a bastard.)

(I also don't see the jonsa in this so much as Melisandre or even Lady Stoneheart.)

But ultimately, I love how it's kind of irrelevant. The magic in that line is already far more interesting on Alys's side than on Aemond's, so if Catelyn's line is obscurely descended through Alys and Aemond, I would consider Alys as a native Riverlander so much more important to it. If there is one thing HOTD did well it's to showcase the fact that the Riverlands are "ancient" and tied to the old gods and the new, same as in the main series. The Ghost of High Heart appears to be an albino Child of the Forest, wreaking havoc with her prophecies in a way that sent House Targaryen spinning off the utter rails (again), sending Rhaegar diving through old Valyrian scrolls and dooming his whole dynasty. This is thousands of years after the Andals destroyed the sacred weirwood groves, and the GOHH is still shuffling around to make prophecies to Arya and Beric like it's no big deal. There's a whole cursed castle built out of weirwood on the edge of a lake with an island no one dares visit where there may or may not be an ancient magical order of green men guarding magic trees. Is that less powerful than what's going on with the "dragonblood" or what's happening in the North, all things considered?

Alys strikes me as powerful in a similar way. If there's magic informing the path of House Stark, it's the magic of the old gods and the Riverlands, and if there's Targness diluted in there, it's no more significant than the remnants in House Baratheon or House Martell or House Velaryon or House friggin Longwaters, or potentially House Hightower, House Tarth, or any further unrecorded descendents.

The Targaryens are a bit of a blip in Westeros, historically speaking. Harren Hoare's cursed legacy architectural project is going to outlast the dragonriders who melted a few of its towers from the way it seems, so... ultimately, it doesn't matter. They came, they self-destructed, and Westeros is carrying on.

[nighttimenarcotics]

Aight so, I just started season 7 of game of thrones and I’ve noticed an interesting pattern

!!spoilers ahead!!

The Starks direwolves names are foreshadowing, and what happens to them reflects the current events in the series

Let me explain;

Lady was the first wolf to die in season one, and it represents the fall of the stark house, see tensions rise and because of unfair circumstances Lady is killed, the following season details the fall of the Stark house, with Ned Starks death. Lady dies because Aryas wolf, Nymeria (meaning warrior queen, we’ll get back to that soon) runs away, on its own this name has no meaning but considering Aryas arch with the Manyfaced God, the his could represent a quite literal loss of identity, I have a feeling now that’s she’s found herself shell be able to find Nymeria again sometime in season 7

The next instance of this is when this happens is with Greywind, Robb Starks wolf. It can be tied to the fate of him and Theon Greyjoy, after Greyjoy betrays him he is left stranded without the forces of the Iron Islands, leading to his death at the Red Wedding. The dismemberment of the dire wolf can also be tied to the unfortunate circumstances that befall Theon after the fact and as a result of the betrayal

Next to die is summer. This one is pretty self explanatory, summer is Bran Starks wolf, and when she dies winter comes, but this can also represent the fact that a Stark, a child of the North and in turn winter itself is also coming home to winterfell

In the case of Ghost, Jon Starks wolf, we see a more literal representation of his fate. He fights white walkers, obviously, but also eventually dies himself before being brought back, making him a ghost walking amongst the living again

Shaggydog is where this pattern kind of breaks but there’s still something to be said about how this happens. Shaggydog is brutally slaughtered by Ramsay Bolton, so is Rikon stark, Shaggydogs owner. They are both taken into captivity and given no chance of survival before being murdered, there could also be ties to how Ramsay also perishes, killed by his own dogs

anyways I googled this afterwards and it turns out I’m right soooooooo, suck on that Game of Thrones , easiest show to predict ever 🖕🏼🖕🏼

[queen-of-andor]

While re reading AGOT JON II I realized how the various sounds play a sutle role in this chapter.

The chapter’s opening paragraph is Jon feeling discomfort to the silence within Winterfell’s castle:

Jon climbed the steps slowly, trying not to think that this might be the last time ever. Ghost padded silently beside him. Outside, snow swirled through the castle gates, and the yard was all noise and chaos, but inside the thick stone walls it was still warm and quiet. Too quiet for Jon's liking.

He’s about to visit Bran for the first - and last - time after the fall and he feels frightened because he has to face Lady Stark in order to do so.

Once he enters Bran’s room - a child who was once bright, cheerful and full of life - the silence continues interrupted only by Catelyn’s unwelcoming words and the howling of Summer.

When he hesitates to enter the door of Bran’s room is like his little brother via Summer is welcoming him to do so:

He stood in the door for a moment, afraid to speak, afraid to come closer. The window was open. Below, a wolf howled. Ghost heard and lifted his head.

When Jon tells Bran that he’s rooting for him to wake up, Summer howls once again:

"Bran," he said, "I'm sorry I didn't come before. I was afraid." He could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks. Jon no longer cared. "Don't die, Bran. Please. We're all waiting for you to wake up. Me and Robb and the girls, everyone …"

Lady Stark was watching. She had not raised a cry. Jon took that for acceptance. Outside the window, the direwolf howled again. The wolf that Bran had not had time to name.

During that scene the silence between Jon and Catelyn is descripted as awkward, which is understanble considering that the grim circumstances their meeting takes place and also the fact that despite living on the same castle usually Jon avoids the places Lady Stark is. 

The unkind, unjustified words Catelyn says to Jon in the end break the uncomfortable silence into something else : the weeping of a mother who is losing her son. And that combined with Catelyn’s horrible words haunts Jon.

"It should have been you," she told him. Then she turned back to Bran and began to weep, her whole body shaking with the sobs. Jon had never seen her cry before.

Right after, as he meets Robb in the middle of Winterfell’s yard, loud sounds are interrupting their goodbye scene. Which is again understantable, as not only Jon but also Lord Stark are about to leave Winterfell so lots of preparations needs to be done. However, it is interesting that given Jon’s current state the noise is linked to his confusion:

Outside, everything was noise and confusion. Wagons were being loaded, men were shouting, horses were being harnessed and saddled and led from the stables. A light snow had begun to fall, and everyone was in an uproar to be off.

Robb was in the middle of it, shouting commands with the best of them. He seemed to have grown of late, as if Bran's fall and his mother's collapse had somehow made him stronger. Grey Wind was at his side.

Robb being part of the noise indicates that while their goodbye scene is sweet that he can’t really connect with Jon at that moment.

Unlike the person who is the third one to receive a goodbye from Jon: his beloved little sister, Arya. In order to say goodbye to Arya, Jon enters the castle once more and goes to an isolated room again but this time the place isn’t linked with awkward silence. How could it be when he’s visiting the person he feels the most comfortable with?

This time the visit is accompanied with happy sounds. Arya laughing with Jon’s joke and later on even Jon - who was half an hour ago terrified- is having a laugh:

"Maybe they should. Have you ever seen the septa's legs?"

She giggled at him.

Arya ran to him for a last hug. "Put down the sword first," Jon warned her, laughing. She set it aside almost shyly and showered him with kisses.

Finally, the chapter ends with Jon remembering Arya’s laughter. This fond image and sound of his little sister is making him feel better and he departs from the place he had lived his whole life to join the Night’s Watch.

The memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north.

[jackoshadows]

Northern Ladies in the books - Maege Mormont, Alysanne Mormont, Lyanna Mormont, Wylla Manderly, Alys Karstark.

Maege inherited the title of head of House Mormont and ruler of Bear Island after her brother's only heir, Jorah Mormont, fled to the Free Cities to escape justice for unlawfully selling poachers into slavery to pay for his debts. She worked hard to regain the family's noble name, and to help the estate recover from the state of near-poverty Jorah left behind.

Maege is a short, stout, grey-haired woman, and a fierce warrior. She dresses in patched ringmail, and her favored weapon is a spiked mace.[3][4] She is dedicated to the old gods, and loyal to House Stark. According to her brother, Jeor, she is stubborn, short-tempered, and willful.

Stannis Baratheon wants the Lord of Winterfell to marry Val the Wildling - making her Lady of Winterfell - to secure peace with the Freefolk. The current candidate for Lady of Winterfell is literally stabbing her suitors in the neck as they try to steal her and Jon Snow is standing around thinking ‘Wow, that’s so hot!’.

Lady Alysanne Mormont is currently marching with Stannis Baratheon and his army in the harshest winter to fight for Winterfell.

Arya is already a Lady of Winterfell. In fact as per the official ASOIAF World of Ice and Fire app, Arya Stark is Princess of Winterfell.

And secondly, there is more than one way of being a Lady of a house in the North. Catelyn was from the south, worshiped the seven and had a septa teaching the girls. Septas like Mordane and Roelle - who tutored Brienne - seem to be terrible teachers to little girls who like different things and destroyed their self esteem.

If Arya grew up with the Mormonts for example does anyone think she would have disliked the idea of ladies?

An older Arya can go home to Winterfell and become the kind of Lady she wants to be.

The fact that Jon compares Lady Alys Karstark to Arya Stark, puts spearwives in charge of defending two of the castles at the wall and trusts Mance and his spearwives to rescue Arya gives us an indication of what he would think about the capabilities of an older Arya as the Lady of Winterfell. She would have his full and total support.

Arya is also very duty conscious like Jon and Dany. She plotted and helped in the freeing of Northern men in Harrenhal, despite the great risk to herself.  If becoming Lady of Winterfell is what is required to rebuild the North and her home after the Long Night, then that’s what she will do. It’s what she wanted to do in AGoT - be a king’s councilor and build things.

She also has a badass hulking huge direwolf - the sigil of house Stark.

Yet Robb only said a quiet word, and in a snarl and the blink of  an eye Lord Umber was on his back, his sword spinning on the floor three  feet away and his hand dripping blood where Grey Wind had bitten off  two fingers.

“My lord father taught me that it was death  to bare steel against your liege lord,” Robb said, “but doubtless you  only meant to cut my meat.” Bran’s bowels went to water as the Greatjon  struggled to rise, sucking at the red stumps of fingers… but then,  astonishingly, the huge man laughed. “Your meat,” he roared, “is bloody  tough. “

And somehow after that the Greatjon became Robb’s  right hand, his staunchest champion, loudly telling all and sundry that  the boy lord was a Stark after all, and they’d damn well better bend their knees if they didn’t fancy having them chewed off - Bran, AGoT

The GreatJon considered Robb to be a Stark after Greywind chewed off his fingers, Manderly wants Rickon AND his direwolf. And the foreshadowing of Nymeria being named after the queen who saved her people.

And oh, Arya sees value in kindness. She shares what little food she has with Gendry and Sam, while starving. She defends the weak, like Weasel and stands up for people like Mycah and even Jon.  Arya cares for the small folk and lowly butcher boys. Arya loves above all her bastard brother, being able to look past class.

She is a loyal to a fault - she does not betray Jon Snow to even their father!

Arya sees the good in people. She’s risked her life saving countless people including criminals. Whereas polite society would shun them, Arya befriends the wharf side scum and prostitutes and fish peddlers.

Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody. This Mycah was the worst; a butcher's boy, thirteen and wild, he slept in the meat wagon and smelled of the slaughtering block. Just the sight of him was enough to make Sansa feel sick, but Arya seemed to prefer his company to hers - Sansa, AGoT

At Winterfell, he always had an extra seat set at his own table, and every day a different man would be asked to join him. One night it would be Vayon Poole, and the talk would be coppers and bread stores and servants. The next time it would be Mikken, and her father would listen to him go on about armor and swords and how hot a forge should be and the best way to temper steel. Another day it might be Hullen with his endless horse talk, or Septon Chayle from the library, or Jory, or Ser Rodrik, or even Old Nan with her stories.

Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father’s table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children. - Arya, AGoT

Most days, she spent more time with the dead than with the living. She missed the friends she’d had when she was Cat of the Canals; Old Brusco with his bad back, his daughters Talea and Brea, the mummers from the Ship, Merry and her whores at the Happy Port, all the other rogues and wharfside scum. - Arya, ADwD

Truly, a people’s princess in all ways that matter.

So Arya can be a Lady of Winterfell like the other Northern ladies, she is also kind and compassionate, sees the value in kindness, has empathy for the Small folk, follows the wisdom of her father - the father for whom the North is currently rising up, loves the smallfolk who love her back wherever she goes and has even enacted the justice of the North. GRRM has written Arya Stark as the future Lady of Winterfell.

And who knows maybe an older Arya will fall in love or have an arranged marriage or fall in love with the person she married. She may even fall in love by the end of TWoW...

Edit: Edited to change and provide the right links/description of Maege Mormont as kindly pointed out by @patate-i-et-patate-a.

[starksinthenorth]

Musings on ASOIAF Ladies and Ambition

I’ve noticed people use “ambition” to describe Sansa and Daenerys as if it’s a bad word or an insult (often called “power hungry”). Yet in the text of the series, neither of them are shown to be ambitious people as a core characteristic. I blame the series for a lot of this, because it failed to explore the internal dialogue of Sansa, Arya, and even Cersei, who ends up more humanized than either of them by the end (because of the maybe baby).

Cersei Lannister is the classic ambitious ASOIAF lady, whose point-of-view is introduced in perhaps the most iconic sentence of any introductory chapter:

She dreamt she sat the Iron Throne, high above them all.

I can’t think of a sentence in ASOIAF that better introduces the internal thoughts and view of its leading character.

In comparison, Sansa’s first sentence is receiving news about her father’s whereabouts, Daenerys is shown her new dress to meet Drogo, and Arya has crooked stitches again. Arya’s works to frame her relationship with Sansa and her internal struggle to fit the feminine Westerosi mold, while Sansa and Daenerys are setting up plot points. None of these interactions signal ambition, bad or good. Daenerys did not arrange her wedding, Sansa is just told the information by her Septa, and while Arya is aspiring to have straight stitches, that’s hardly an ambitious goal for a girl of nine.

Fans rarely, if ever, deny Cersei’s cruel, cold, often stupid ambition. In fact, it’s one of the reason people seem to love her. She’s internally open about what she wants - power - and when she wants it - now:

All of them are burning now, she told herself, savoring the thought. They are dead and burning, every one, with all their plots and schemes and betrayals. It is my day now. It is my castle and my kingdom.

- AFFC, Cersei III

The rule was hers; Cersei did not mean to give it up until Tommen came of age. I waited, so can he. I waited half my life. She had played the dutiful daughter, the blushing bride, the pliant wife. She had suffered . . . She had contended with Jon Arryn, Ned Stark, and her vile, treacherous, murderous dwarf brother, all the while promising herself that one day it would be her turn. If Margaery Tyrell thinks to cheat me of my hour in the sun, she had bloody well think again.

- AFFC, Cersei V

Cersei is the definition of a power hungry lady, scheming and cheating at every point. Yes, Sansa learned from her, but most of Sansa’s internalized lessons of Cersei’s were to do the exact opposite. 

"The night's first traitors," the queen [Cersei] said, "but not the last, I fear. . . . Another lesson you should learn, if you hope to sit beside my son. . . . The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy."

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

- ACOK, Sansa VI

Cersei isn’t the only POV character who views herself outside of conventional Westerosi standards and aspires to something beyond being a wife and mother. Arya Stark has ambition writ clear on the page, though it is not so cold or denying other people their rights or chances. Compared to Cersei, Arya doesn’t want everything, crown and throne and kingdom and all. She just wants something, and even that is denied to highborn women in Westeros. Even when she asks her father about her future, a man who wants to do right by his children and loves them, Eddard Stark is blinded by Westerosi patriarchy:

Arya cocked her head to one side. "Can I be a king's councillor and build castles and become the High Septon?"

"You," Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, "will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon."

- AGOT, Eddard V

With Arya in this, I see some parallels to Elaena Targaryen, who was so good at math and management she served as the secret Master of Coin while her husband carried the title. Elaena was “more willful than Rhaena, but not as beautiful as either of her sisters,” yet is also said to have been “more beautiful at age seventy than at age seventeen,” growing into herself like Arya is expected to. They both even cut their hair, Arya to hide her gender and Elaena to hide her beauty, both instances to gain freedom from captivity in the Red Keep.

Despite both these examples of ambition - Cersei’s all-encompassing, without care for how it affects the realm, and Arya’s attempt to find a place in the world outside the Westerosi model - it still becomes an insult when people speak of Daenerys and Sansa.

Critics claim Sansa is ambitious, and negatively so, because she “wants to be queen.” But this criticism misses a vital point of Sansa’s character. Unlike Cersei, she does not want to be queen because of the power and political influence, but because she will be living a song. In the start, Sansa’s got her head in the clouds, not to the dirty world of politics. Her very first chapter lays out this motivation incredibly clearly:

All she wanted was for things to be nice and pretty, the way they were in the songs.

When she thinks of Joffrey and being in love with him, it’s because he’s “handsome and gallant as any prince in the songs” (AGOT, Sansa II), 

Alternatively, it has been said that Sansa is ambitious because of her claim to Winterfell. But compare how Sansa thinks of her claim to how Big Walder Frey does. Despite being far down the inheritance line, he is certain he will someday possess the Twins. He’s likely willing to kill his family to become Lord of the Crossing, and already has killed Little Walder.

In comparison, Sansa isn’t the one who realizes her claim as heir to Winterfell, even after her two younger brothers are believed dead. It’s Dontos who mentions it, and after she still thinks that Robb will have sons to inherit.

But she had not forgotten his words, either. The heir to Winterfell, she would think as she lay abed at night. It's your claim they mean to wed. Sansa had grown up with three brothers. She never thought to have a claim, but with Bran and Rickon dead . . . It doesn't matter, there's still Robb, he's a man grown now, and soon he'll wed and have a son. Anyway, Willas Tyrell will have Highgarden, what would he want with Winterfell?

- ASOS, Sansa II

Sansa’s not ready to kill Bran and Rickon if they show up. Her arc is about taking off the rose-tinted glasses and seeing reality, but also working to make reality like a song. For example, her idea of the Tournament of the Winged Knights for Sweetrobin. It’s a song come to life, all by her making. TBD how the ending goes, of course, but it shows that trajectory.

And finally, Daenerys.

Daenerys is not driven by some lifelong desire to win and dominate. She’s forced into it, a la Brienne’s “no chance and no choice.” If Daenerys were raised in a stable environment, I have a feeling she’d be much more like Sansa: dreamy, hopeful, sweet and studious. Happy.

But instead, her eyes are open.

When she’s introduced as a character, she shows an awareness for the schemes and politics of the world. She knows her brother is called the Beggar King in the Free Cities, and is doubtful of the smallfolk’s secret toasts to Viserys III that Illyrio Mopatis claims happen across Westeros.

Like Sansa and Cersei, there’s evidence of her goals, hopes, and wishes in the very first chapter:

"I don't want to be his queen," she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. "Please, please, Viserys, I don't want to, I want to go home."

. . .

Dany had only meant their rooms in Illyrio's estate, no true home surely, though all they had, but her brother did not want to hear that. There was no home there for him. Even the big house with the red door had not been home for him.

Daenerys remembers home as the house with the red door in Braavos. It’s her brother whose only home and stability was the Red Keep, not her.

Throughout her journey of power to take back the Seven Kingdoms, she is doubtful at every turn and most of her wishes are for happiness, for peace, for stability.

Dany had no wish to reduce King's Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. She had supped enough on tears. I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father.

- ACOK, Daenerys II

A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros?

- ADWD, Daenerys II

Even later, Daenerys is determined to bring peace to the lands she currently rules. She does plan to return to the Seven Kingdoms, but it’s not driven by pure ambition. And this is, notably, from a conversation when Prince Quentyn Nymeros Martell asks her to come back and claim them now, saying she has allies for that conquest. And still she turns him down, with promises that it will only happen eventually:

"Daenerys said. ". . . .One day I shall return to Westeros to claim my father's throne, and look to Dorne for help. But on this day the Yunkai'i have my city ringed in steel. I may die before I see my Seven Kingdoms. Hizdahr may die. Westeros may be swallowed by the waves."

- ADWD, Daenerys VII

And yet in both Sansa and Daenerys, these visions and hopes for the futures they might have are considered unbridled ambition, although they turn more on happiness and peace for themselves and their people, rather than the type of ambition Cersei has, which is clearly her own power and being heralded above everyone.

Daenerys’ thoughts in her sixth chapter of ADWD have the same energy as Sansa’s “I will make them love me.”:

"A queen must know the sufferings of her people."

. . .

A queen must listen to her people, Dany reminded herself. 

Daenerys has figured out how to make her people love her, by wearing her “floppy ears” and appealing to the masses, listening to them, et cetera. She’s also a bit ahead of Sansa in the realm of ruling, to be sure.

But how are these similar thoughts ambition in either of them? It’s an attempt to empathize and connect, not to throw away and disregard and rule by force and domination. Both these ladies are more nuanced, and the fandom does them a disservice by painting them as ambitious or power-hungry when at the end for both of them, it’s a desire to have a happy, stable, loving life.

[loyalannister]

UNDER THE LENS : Eddard I, A Game of Thrones

Eddard I, A Game of Thrones, starts with the arrival of King Robert Baratheon and his retinue to Winterfell and ends in the crypts where the dead Lords of the castle stare with disapproving eyes as Robert asks Ned Stark to be his Hand.

• Tyrion is present in the King's party and not lingering in a brothel when we see him for the first time in the series. Tyrion is in the Winterfell library when we first see him in his own PoV. Book! Tyrion does frequent brothels often but it speaks volumes about what the author wanted the reader's first impression of Tyrion to be in contrast to how the writers of Thrones wanted to present Tyrion to the viewers for the first time.

• I know that this excerpt is often considered as foreshadowing for Jon Snow becoming King:

Ned jested [...] “Kings are a rare sight in the north.”

Robert snorted. “More likely they were hiding under the snow. Snow, Ned!”

But also it's ironic that Ned says Kings are a rare sight in the North when his own son Robb will soon be declared King in the North although Ned himself wouldn't be alive to see it :(

• This PoV is rich in imagery/references to the dead Starks, the crypts, the Others but also it provides hope : hope that the Starks will eventually triumph against against all odds :

“The Others take your mild snows,” Robert swore. “What will this place be like in winter? I shudder to think.”

“The winters are hard,” Ned admitted. “But the Starks will endure. We always have.”

Unbeknownst to Robert, his words will come true - the Others will take away the mild snows and bring a much harsher & fiercer winter which the readers will shudder to read about in A Dream of Spring.

Later when Ned tells Robert to return to the castle from the crypts as his wife would surely be waiting, Robert says, “The Others take my wife,” - will this come true as well? (This actually reminds me of a favorite personal theory of mine which I was lowkey hoping to see in the show - Jaime would kill Cersei after being converted to a wight, thereby fulfilling the prophecy of the valonqar making it seem less like a heroic deed on Jaime's part and more like a gruesome one!)

• George does an excellent job of giving the crypts of Winterfell a very horror filled mystical vibe in this PoV - the crypts are almost personified in every other line starting from the very stairs leading down to them :

He could feel the chill coming up the stairs, a cold breath from deep within the earth.

[...]

He swept the lantern in a wide semicircle. Shadows moved and lurched.

The stone statues in the crypts seem to come alive eerily as the light from Ned's lantern illuminate them:

The shifting shadows made the stone figures seem to stir as the living passed by.

When Robert laughs uproariously at a joke, his laughter echoes through the darkness and :

[...] all around them the dead of Winterfell seemed to watch with cold and disapproving eyes.

In fact, George chooses to end the chapter on a very ominous note, as if the inhabitants of the crypt know the fate of Ned if he fulfils Robert's wish to be his Hand:

He looked at the stone figures all around them, breathed deep in the chill silence of the crypt. He could feel the eyes of the dead. They were all listening, he knew. And winter was coming.

• Jon Snow's parentage has long been a subject of discussion and debate in the fandom. Although it's widely believed that he is Rhaegar's son, other theories claim that he is Ned and Ashara's son.

Robert Baratheon had always been a man of huge appetites, a man who knew how to take his pleasures. That was not a charge anyone could lay at the door of Eddard Stark.

If Ned had really been with Ashara and birthed Jon as a bastard, it's unlikely that he would think along these lines. Although the events occuring at the Tower of Joy unfold later as a part of Ned's fever dream, in this PoV, he distinctly recalls Lyanna in his full senses beseeching him to promise her something (it might not be about a son, some might argue, but then what is the 'promise' all about? It definitely seems like a dead end if it's not about Jon.)

• Aside from their beauty and wildness, one Arya/Lyanna parallel I always really liked was when Arya searched for some purple and green flowers & brought them to Ned while they were crossing the Neck on their way to King's Landing. This would have undoubtedly reminded Ned of Lyanna:

“I bring her flowers when I can,” he said. “Lyanna was…fond of flowers.”

• The long dead lords of Winterfell are associated with further ominous symbolism:

By ancient custom an iron longsword had been laid across the lap of each who had been Lord of Winterfell, to keep the vengeful spirits in their crypts. The oldest had long ago rusted away to nothing, leaving only a few red stains where the metal had rested on stone. Ned wondered if that meant those ghosts were free to roam the castle now.

Not only would the iron longswords keep the dead Lords at bay, they would protect any possible people hiding in the crypts from the Others as well! As Old Nan puts it:

“They [the Others] were cold things, dead things, that hated iron and fire and the touch of the sun...”

Interestingly, some swords are missing from the stone statues currently as they were taken by Bran and his companions while fleeing from the ruined castle.

• Early on in the series, it becomes evident that Rhaegar did not rape Lyanna; Ned doesn't harbour any ill thoughts about Rhaegar when Robert speaks about him. Furthermore, he remains silent & his inner monologue provides no ill feelings about the silver prince :

“In my dreams, I kill him every night,” Robert admitted. “A thousand deaths will still be less than he deserves.”

There was nothing Ned could say to that.

• Rhaegar's rubies are brought up time and again in the series with various people actively seeking them out:

When Ned had finally come on the scene, Rhaegar lay dead in the stream, while men of both armies scrabbled in the swirling waters for rubies knocked free of his armor.

Arya and Mycah later team up to look for Rhaegar's rubies on the ford and later in A Feast for Crows, the Elder Brother informs Brienne that six rubies have been washed up with the water. Might these rubies have any significance in the future? Can they be used as a glamour by someone to appear as Rhaegar?

• The Starks belong to Winterfell and Winterfell belongs to the Starks:

For a moment Eddard Stark was filled with a terrible sense of foreboding. This was his place, here in the north.

This is why, I feel extremely skeptical whenever I hear of King Bran endgame in the books. Bran is a Stark through and through, he is connected to Winterfell & the North like no one else. All signs point to him being King in the North rather than of entire Westeros. This is also why Sansa as Lady of the Vale in the end seems unlikely unless she marries someone from the Vale, given that Sansa herself has no claim to the Vale.

TRIVIA :

• Cersei Lannister rode to Winterfell in a wheelhouse pulled by forty (40) horses. It was too wide to pass through the gates of Winterfell.

• King Robert brought fruits from Highgarden for Ned to taste.

[ladycatofwinterfell]

A new marriage and an old one, pt3

Summary: Robb is getting married and Catelyn have been married for many years. This is a happy story about the Starks (mostly Ned and Cat, but also the others) that takes place in a world where AGoT never happened and they’re all living happily in Winterfell. 

Rating: I’d say mature, but message me if it should be changed.

English is not my first language, so I apologize if there’s any spelling or grammar mistakes. I hope you enjoy it :)

~*~

How was Catelyn going to ever pray in her sept again without thinking of that? Thanks to Ned, she didn’t believe it was possible. But it had felt good, so so good. And it still occupied her mind hours later even though they had only been there for a couple of minutes. She didn't have time to be distracted but she found herself thinking back on her moment with Ned in the sept over and over again. Tonight was so far away, she just wanted to get to it immediately. She was a patient woman usually, but with all that was going on it was so nice to just relax into Ned’s touch every once in a while. It was such a sweet feeling to let him take care of her in every way imaginable and just forget about all the things that screamed to be done.

She was currently trying to get the seating to go together. And it was giving her a headache straight from the deepest of the seven hells. The Boltons didn’t go very well with any of the houses with lands next to them, there had been conflict there, to say the least. It had involved a few angry letters and meetings about the fact that Roose Bolton had a very hard time with keeping his hunting on his lands. But maybe she could place them close to the Dustins. There had been no conflict there that Catelyn was aware of. But maybe she was wrong and the whole feast would fall because of it. All she knew was that she didn’t want the Dustins close to herself. Barbrey Dustin seemed to dislike Catelyn fiercely for some unknown reason, and she wasn’t very fond of Ned either. And the Reeds of the Neck rarely showed up at Winterfell, but now they were coming for the wedding of their liege lord’s eldest son. They went well with everyone, didn't they? Or had there been some conflicts with the Flints of Flint’s Finger about men disappearing in the swamp? She had a feeling of that Ned had mentioned it to her some time ago while they were getting ready for bed. Had they solved that with good tones or had it ended badly? Well, it was wiser to not place them next to each other, she didn't want to risk anything. Fights could end with injured and dead men and she wanted no such things to happen in her hall, she wanted no further conflict between any houses in the north. 

She sat like that for what at least felt like hours. With the list of everyone who had said that they would attend and a drawing of all the tables in the Great Hall in front of her. Slowly she crossed names off the list and filled the tables with them and every once in a while she had to start over with a table because she had forgotten something or someone, or because she had placed someone too close or too far away from the high table. And when she finally looked down at the finished seating plan she realized that she had forgotten herself, Ned, and the Tyrells, because she had forgotten that Robb and Margaery would have the high table all to themselves, as was tradition. Gods, her little Robb was getting married. He would have a wife soon, would become a father and have a little family of his own. Time went too fast, they were all slipping from her fingers before her eyes. Maybe it was greedy to ask the gods, Ned’s or hers, for another child, but she wanted one last child that was hers before her children started having children. She would be a grandmother soon if the gods blessed Robb and Margaery with a child. She had thought of it often since Margaery and her family arrived at. Winterfell. That there would be children running around around the castle that would call her “Grandmother” instead of “Mother”. The thought made her both very happy and sad. She was getting old.

And that was not what she was supposed to be thinking about.

She sighed deeply and rested her head in her hands, closing her eyes. Her head was pounding. How could seating be so hard when she had done it a hundred times before? And why did she even bother? Everyone would start moving around and changing seats the moment all the courses had been served. As soon as the dancing started all she had planned would fall apart anyway. But it had to be done, because her eldest son was getting married and it had to be perfect. And she had to make sure all of the more important guests fit inside the Great Hall. There would be fires and food outside for the free riders and men that had came with their lords, but the more important men had to be inside the hall.

“My lady, is everything alright?”

She raised her head from her hands and saw that Maester Luwin had entered the room. She had been too deep in her thoughts and feelings to notice. Her immediate answer to his question was “No, everything is not okay. I have a headache, I can’t get the seating together and my children are growing up too fast”, but that was not what she said.

“Yes, Maester. Everything is alright, I’m just trying to get the seating together” Catelyn said and looked down at the papers before her. “It’s harder than one would think it is.”

She, Ned and the Tyrells had to be closest to the high table, so she would have to move everyone back a little. But then the people at the end of the hall wouldn’t fit inside. Maybe if she squeezed them together a little everyone would fit inside. But then they would practically sit in each other’s laps. She decided that maybe they would think that it was worth it to attend the wedding feast of the eldest son of Eddard and Catelyn Stark. Or they could always go outside, she had no doubts about that the celebrations wouldn’t be big outside the Great Hall too.

“Do you need my help, my lady?” Luwin asked. “Or do you want me to send for anyone?”

“There’s no need” she said and frowned. “Or wait. Send for Sansa, Arya, and Lady Margaery. I will have need of them.”

The Maester bowed before he left her with her struggles again. She tried to get it together, tried to make it work. And every now and then she suddenly remembered something that forced her to make a drastic changing to the seating. Wedding planning really was a lot, she would be exhausted by the time it was all over. She almost longed for it. It would be good to have the amount of work go back to normal.

“Mother.”

Arya poked her head into the room.

“Maester Luwin said you wanted to see me.”

“Yes” Catelyn said. “Have a seat, sweetling.” 

She smiled at the thought of getting company in her misery. Company that would help her put an end to it. So that she could bury herself in the next one by getting started on other things that really needed to be done.

“You’re doing seating, aren’t you?” Arya said as she sat down in a chair on the other side of the desk. “Robb said you would be doing that today.”

“I’m tempted to let him do the seating himself” Catelyn said with another sigh. “It’s his wedding, not mine.”

“Nah, it’s been some time since you married.”

“Twenty years today.”

Sansa also came in through the open door, immediately joining the conversation.

“Did you like Father’s gift?” she asked. “I helped him with it.”

“It was lovely” Catelyn assured her.

It had been a wonderful gift. She had nothing for Ned, which made her feel pretty bad. She had not even remembered that it was their wedding day. Maybe it was actually her who had to make something up to him that night.

“It was, wasn’t it? The colors were so pretty!”

“They really were. But that was not why I called you here, I need help with the seating. It has to be done today, preferably before supper.”

The fact that there was a possibility of that they would have to keep on with the seating after supper made Catelyn extremely tired. She just wanted to eat in peace and then retire to her chambers with Ned. But that wouldn’t happen, since she just couldn’t get the damn seating to work out. When Jon married his Alys she would not volunteer to do more than she absolutely had to. Haha, who was she trying to fool? She would absolutely take on more work than she could actually handle and then she would curse herself for not remembering how stressed she had been when she was planning Robb’s wedding.

“Mother, I can see in your eyes that you really want this to be done before supper. So could you please hand me the paper so that we can have a look?” Arya said and stretched out a hand.

Catelyn gave her daughter the paper and leaned back in her chair while Sansa and Arya looked at it. She sat quiet and just listened to them talk with low voices about what you could do with the damn seating. All her daughters were absolutely brilliant girls and she fully trusted that they would do a good job with whatever task she gave them.

“You wanted to see me, Lady Stark?”

Margaery looked into the room.

“Oh yes, come inside” Catelyn said and smiled. “We are trying to fix the seating, would you mind giving us a hand?”

“Not at all, I would love to help!”

Thank the gods. For a moment Catelyn considered to leave the girls to it and take a short break. But did she have time for that? Absolutely not, she needed to look over all the resources and shippings to Winterfell so that the kitchens had everything they needed for all the courses that would be served. But she would rather discuss with Sansa, Arya and Margaery than sit in silence and just read through page upon page of documentations of the latest wagons that had arrived to the castle.

And so the four women sat huddled around the desk and tried again and again to get everything together. The sun started to sink down underneath the horizon outside the windows and Catelyn was forced to light candles and get a fire burning in the hearth so that they would be able to see anything. 

“Almost all these people are new to me” Margaery said. “It’s hard.”

“None of them are new to me and I’ve been here for hours. It doesn’t make it any easier” Catelyn said.

Maybe it actually would have been easier if she hadn’t been married to the liege lord of all those people. She would’t have had to take so much into consideration because she would have known nothing. What wouldn’t she have given to just know nothing of all the squabbles among the northern lords?

“But if we do it this way” Sansa said.

“Nope, that won’t work” Arya said immediately. “Where are the Umbers? How could you even forget them? You are betrothed to the Smalljon!”

“You know, Mother, now I understand why you look like you are thrice widowed” Sansa sighed.

Catelyn had been aware of that she probably looked as tired as she felt, but honestly, was it really that bad? Maybe it was. And on top of looking like hew was thrice widowed, she was getting really hungry. She had not eaten anything since she broke her fast and there had been many hours since that. 

“I’m glad you get it, sweetling” she said. 

All four of them looked up at the same time when it knocked on the door and Ned came in. 

“Could you come outside with me, Cat? I need a word.”

She wondered what he had to say. Had anything happened? He didn’t look worried. But he didn’t look very happy either. He just seemed tired. How lovely that they were in the same mood.

“Of course” she said and rose form her chair. “You can continue, girls, I’ll be right back.”

They walked out of the solar together and Ned closed the door behind her. And without saying a word he pulled her into an embrace. She laid her arms around his waist and leaned against him as he buried his face in her hair. 

“I’m tired” he said.

“Me too. This really is a lot.”

“Jon will have to wait.”

“Preferably until I’m dead and buried” she said and smiled. “That way I won’t have to do anything.”

He chuckled softly at that. Then they were quiet again. She closed her eyes and just took in the feeling of his arms around her. His heat and the smell of him, it was so calming. She had really needed that. 

“Was that what you wanted to say?” she asked after a few minutes.

“No, but I needed to have you close for just a moment” Ned said. “What I actually came to say is that supper is being served now. You should come down to the Great Hall to eat.”

That meant that they were not going to be done before supper. How absolutely terrific. Catelyn was ready to cry at that point.

“We’ll be down soon” she said. “So keep my chair empty.”

“No, you should come now. You need a break” Ned said softly.

“I have already had a break today. And it was an excellent break, but I don’t have time for one more. And if I finish it now I will be free after supper.”

She looked up at him. 

“I seem to recall that we had plans for tonight. We won’t be able to carry out with those if I have to sit up with that half the night because I took too many breaks.”

He sighed and kissed her forehead.

“Okay” he said. “But promise that if it takes too long you will take a break and come down and get some food. You need to eat, my love.”

“I won’t be long” she said. “I promise.”

She gave him a quick kiss before she turned to go back inside. But just as she was about to lay her hand on the door handle the door flew open and Arya almost danced out.

“We did it, Mother!” she shouted. “We solved the seating!”

Oh thank the gods, old and new. Finally it was over. Catelyn could go down and have supper! She was free from the seating.

Sansa and Margaery also appeared in the doorway behind Arya, both of them were shining. And an overwhelming feeling of pride took over Catelyn. Those were her girls, in one way or another. And they had actually thought out a way to make it all work. Oh how she loved them for it.

“You’re brilliant, all three of you” Catelyn smiled. “I knew you would do it!”

Well, if she was going to be completely honest, she had had her moments of doubt about that they would actually managed to finish the task. But those were all washed away, now she was purely happy and proud of them.

“Ned” she said and turned to him once more. “Please take me down to have some supper. I’m starving.”

~*~

”To twenty more years” Ned said and raised his cup to her.

”I’m a greedy woman, I want at least thirty” Catelyn replied and raised her own cup.

”To thirty more years then.”

”To thirty more years” she smiled and drank.

The Great Hall was so filled with people that you could almost believe that it was the day of the wedding. It wasn’t, so many people had arrived with the Tyrells. And northern lords and their parties also started to arrive, it was just a little more than two weeks left after all. Winterfell and the winter town were both filled with more people than ever. Catelyn, who was in her usual chair next to Ned’s high seat, could see each and every person in the hall. She had some of the Tyrell family to her right, the rest was on Ned’s left.

”I didn’t mean to listen, but I overheard your conversation” Olenna Tyrell said. ”I want to congratulate you on your twenty years.”

”Thank you, my lady” Catelyn said and smiled again.

”Standing out with a man for that long is an accomplishment” Olenna continued.

Catelyn glanced at Ned for a second. He was in conversation with Mace Tyrell, Olenna’s son.

“It’s hard sometimes, but worth it in the end.”

Ned could absolutely drive her to madness every now and then, but she loved him. He was a loving and good husband to her, and a loving and good father to their children. He was a good, but just lord to his people. She couldn't have asked for a better person to share her life with. He had helped her into her second home and loved her even when she felt like she was unlovable.

Olenna was just about to reply when someone grabbed Catelyn’s arm. She looked down and saw little Hoster. He was a copy of Ned, but with her own eyes and her nose. The Stark face and hair with the Tully blue eyes. He and Lyanna were the only one of their children who had taken after something from both her and Ned.

”What is it, Hoster?” she asked.

”Lyanna hit me” the little boy whined. ”With a stick.”

”How did she get a stick in here?” Catelyn mumbled to herself and looked out over the hall in order to find Lyanna.

Her handmaiden should have been watching her. And prevented her from bringing a stick to supper. It was hard to find such a small girl in such a large crowd, but Catelyn managed to catch sight of her youngest daughter’s fiery red hair between two tables.

”Excuse me for a moment, Lady Olenna” Catelyn said.

She took Hoster’s little hand in hers and walked around the high table to go down and get Lyanna. It was clearly bedtime for her and her twin brother.

”Lyanna!” she said sharply. ”What are you doing with that stick?”

The little girl smiled up at her. She too had Ned’s long face, but she had Catelyn’s red hair and blue eyes. She was an extremely charming girl at the age of six, she knew exactly how to get what she wanted and how to get out of anything. She owned the heart of every person in Winterfell. Especially Ned’s, she could just smile and he would immediately forget everything about how she had misbehaved. It was as though her little face smiling at him made the Lord of Winterfell completely blind.

The thing was that she was not always like that, she did everything she was told when she wanted. She could behave like a perfect little lady when she wanted to. Some days she was impeccable and some days she was a nightmare. It depended solely on what she felt that day. But no matter which, she was always the most charming little thing to have ever walked around in the world. Catelyn couldn’t deny that.

”It’s a sword, Mother!” she explained cheerfully. ”I’m protecting people from evil dragons!”

”And why did you hit your brother?” Catelyn asked.

”He said I’ll never be a real dragonslayer. So I hit him, because he is an evil dragon.”

”Dragons doesn’t exist anymore. Maester Luwin says so” Hoster sneered from Catelyn’s side. ”You’re stupid for thinking they’re still real.”

Her little twin pair was usually very tight, they were together at all times. When they started getting cranky with each other she knew it was bedtime, and by the morning they would be partners in mischief again.

”Well, you look like a dragon!” Lyanna pouted. ”Ugly!”

”Hush, both of you” she told them. ”It appears you’ve both done something bad, I want you to apologize to each other.”

Lyanna and Hoster remained silent. They could be stubborn as ox, it was very hard to get them to do something they absolutely didn’t want to do.

”I want you to apologize to each other” she repeated, a little more strictly the second time. ”And I want you to mean it.”

”I’m sorry” Lyanna mumbled and looked down at the ground. ”I shouldn’t have hit you.”

”And I’m sorry for saying that you’re stupid” Hoster almost whispered.

”Will you go to bed as friends?” Catelyn asked.

”Yes” Lyanna said and smiled at Hoster.

Hoster smiled back at her. It never took long for them to make up, fortunately.

Catelyn waved for their handmaidens to come and put them to bed. Then she returned to the high table.

”Your youngest daughter was slaying dragons instead of eating her supper” she informed Ned when she sat down again.

As she had suspected, Ned only laughed. Lyanna could have killed someone and Ned still would have waved it off.

”She has a wild imagination, our daughter” he chuckled.

”She’s your daughter for as long as she pretends her brother is a dragon and hits him with sticks.”

”She’s more like you.”

”When have you ever seen me hit my brother with a stick?” Catelyn asked, slightly offended.

You wouldn’t have found her in the Great Hall of Riverrun with a stick. If she had been to hit her brother with a stick, she would have done it where no one would be able to see her so that there were no witnesses. You had to do it with finesse, you didn’t want to get caught.

Ned took her hand and looked her in the eye.

”I mean she has the charm that I lack. You know your way with speech, my love.”

Ned was excellent with speech when he had to. He could have seduced the queen if he set his mind on it. Catelyn knew that better than anyone.

”You two could stab me in my sleep and I would forgive you as I bled out and died” Ned continued.

Catelyn laughed.

”Your northerners wouldn’t forgive us though. I suspect that my head would be separated from my body before you had time to die.”

”I don’t want to find out if you’re right” Ned said.

”Well, I’m not about to stab you. And I don’t think Lyanna will stab you” she told him. 

”So I have no reason to worry when I go to bed tonight?”

Catelyn smiled as she leaned over towards Ned so that no one would hear what she said.

”Not if you make up for leaving me yesterday” she whispered.

”You won’t even remember it when I’m done with you.”

”Is that a promise?” she asked teasingly.

He kissed her on the lips then. There, in full view of everyone in the hall. She was almost ashamed of how much she liked that. She belonged to him, and he would have everyone know that.

”It is.”

~*~

[brbaabs]

The Dornish Bird - Chapter 4

Hey guys! I’m so sorry I missed the last update. I’ve been soooo busy these two weeks, I barely had time to touch my phone. College is killing me mercilessly. I’m sorry I couldn't answer your comments but I assure you, I read all of them and loved your kind words. Thank you so much for being here, it means a lot to me to have such amazing people enjoying my work.

Before you read this chapter, I have some things to say. We had Bran’s fall in the last part, so I’m sure you know we’ll have dark themes from now on. That leads to a question I’ve been dying to ask: Do you guys mind a little smut here and there? I mean, I guess we all know GOT. I’m quite used to so see naked bodies by now, but I know some people might not like it. Though my sex scenes are always delicate, respectful and important to the plot, I’d like to know if you’re okay with it. Please, share your opinion on the comments of this chapter.

Anyway, the song I chose today kinda matches the first season’s mood in my opinion. I hope you like it just as much as I do, this song is simply magical.

Word count: 2.445

Eddard Stark waited for his eldest son in his private study.

He had his wife’s triumphant smile still fresh in his head, reminding him of the decision they both agreed to make. He was somewhat happy with their agreement, choosing his first born's wife was something he'd always considered a difficult task. His own wedding wasn't appealing to him at the beginning. Ned was happy to choose a girl that he and his wife could trust their son and their house.

(Y/n) surely wasn't the first option. She did not belong to a house, would not inherit any properties or soldiers. She was not even born in the north, his general would be mortified with the idea of having a Dornish woman ahead of House Stark. Ned esteemed the girl, he truly did. But he needed to weigh all these details before making a big decision like that. He could marry (Y/n) and Jon without hesitating, but Robb's future bride was a totally different case.

However Catelyn was skilled in argumentation, and her point was too solid to hold any defect.

'I was an outsider as well, do you have any regrets about how it ended up for us?' She stated.

Eddard could not deny his wife's cleverness. Her argument put an end in the discussion. It was settled, Robb would wed her protegé.

The Warden was still lost in his thoughts when Robb entered the study with Theon by his side. The two lads were sparring for the previous hour, sweat was still present in Robb's forehead. Theon has mud is his pants, indicating his loss. He was a good fighter, but Robb was just excellent in the sword art. 

"Do you wish to speak to me, father?" Robb said.

Ned examined his son's expression for a second. Both boys seemed to be in a good mood. Theon still had a little smile on his lips because of a pun Robb had made in their way to Ned's study, and Robb looked relaxed. In his mind, Ned wondered how long that good mood would last.

"It's a serious matter, so I suggest you take a seat." He said.

Robb's face immediately showed his concern. He shared a look with his friend. Theon looked puzzled but nodded almost imperceptibly to indicate his curiosity. Out of choice, Robb took a seat in front of his father, and the Greyjoy stood behind him as always.

"What is it, father?" The Young Wolf asked.

Satisfied with his son's compliance, Ned took a deep breath. 'This won't be so hard.' He thought. Robb was a good kid, he never disobeyed his father. If it were Arya in Robb's shoes, Lord Stark would have a huge problem in his hands.

"Your mother and I have been discussing a really important matter since your eleventh name day, but only recently we've found a solution." Eddard spoke with determination in his tone. "Catelyn suggested a bride to you, and I accepted. You're going to marry (Y/n)."

Robb's eyes widened with Ned's statement.

The young man searched for a sign of humor in his father's words since that information seemed too good to be true. His whole life was filled with worry about his future wife. He knew it would be his parent's duty to choose a bride for him, and yet he feared for their choice. The chances of Eddard ending up choosing an attractive woman was minimal, considering Catelyn's looks. Robb loved his mother with all his heart, but he couldn't say she was the prettiest woman he'd seen in his life. The possibility of ending up with an unattractive woman by his side for the rest of his life wasn't appealing in any circumstance. He was aware of the stupidity of his concern, but he feared it anyway.

But (Y/n) was gorgeous, he couldn't be more fortunate!

"I am not quite sure if I get it, father." Robb said, still not believing in what his ears had heard. "I am not complaining, but (Y/n) is my friend. And she is not a noblewoman, is it truly the best match?"

While Robb felt his heart beating fast in his chest because of his excitement, Theon's heartbeat was increased for a very different reason. The Greyjoy lad could not believe in what Ned had said.

In Theon's mind, Eddard would never consider marrying his firstborn with the Dornish girl. How could he? She was a commoner, for The Drowned God's sake. She was Catelyn's protegé as Theon was Ned's. If anyone should take (Y/n) as his wife, it should be Theon.

That was the Greyjoy's theory, at least.

"Catelyn has been shaping her into a proper Lady for over a year, she will be a fine suitor when the wedding time comes. Until then, she will come to King's Landing with me and your sisters." Eddard answered.

"How long will (Y/n) be away from Winterfell?" Robb asked.

'How long will (Y/n) be away from me?' He wondered.

"Only three years, I believe." Ned said. "She will be Sansa's handmaiden until she comes to age to marry. You will be in charge of Winterfell with your mother while (Y/n) is away. I believe you understand what is going to happen once she returns."

'He will be able to bed her.' Theon thought.

Robb took a deep breath, trying to process all that information. He would be married in three years, with a girl he had always seen as a dear friend. It was difficult to believe in his fate. They would be separated in the meantime. How would (Y/n) look when she comes back? Would their friendship still be the same?

When Robb pictured (Y/n)'s smiling face, he felt his heart calming down. He fancied her, that was a fact. No matter what his mind would say, his heart desired her. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to touch her warm skin, to see her pleasured face as he claimed her body. At that point, the lad could not think about any other thing.

He wanted her.

"I accept, father." He said, raising his head to look into his father's eyes. "I will marry her."

---------------------

(Y/n) was not sure about what she should feel.

Catelyn never forbade her from walking in Godswood. The girl loved to spend a little time by herself, with her only company being the small creatures that lived in the forest. She would always dive her hand in the lake, gather small stones to throw at Theon's back when he wasn't looking or just sit by the trees to observe the birds in their nests. That was her favorite time of the day.

But today, her lady asked her to stay in their house for the day. (Y/n) was confused at the beginning, but Catelyn said she had some matters to discuss with the Dornish girl. (Y/n) was not in place to object. Such request led to the current situation.

Lady Catelyn was leading (Y/n) towards the maester study. The girl had no idea why her lady would want to take her there, but she followed the woman without saying a word. Perhaps Maester Luwin had something to discuss with her, she would find out soon.

"Is everything alright, My Lady?" The girl asked.

Catelyn smiled. She was eager to tell the news to her dear protegé. The Lady of Winterfell was aware of how curious (Y/n) could be when someone was preparing a surprise for her. Right now, the girl's frow was evident. Catelyn was having so much fun.

"Be patient, girl." She answered. "You'll know soon enough. Now be careful with the steps."

(Y/n) pouted, but decided to keep her curiosity to herself. At least for the time being.

"Yes, My Lady." The girl said.

Catelyn could feel the confusion in (Y/n)'s voice. She smirked, enjoying the moment far more than she should. The pair walked for three minutes more, then arrived at their destination. The woman knocked on the door twice, attempting to conceal her excitement. She felt (Y/n) standing behind her. The girl still had that pout on her reddish lips, too curious to hide it. Catelyn chuckled, amused by the girl's mood.

After a few seconds, the door was opened by the faithfull maester of Winterfell. That made (Y/n) smile a little, forgetting her worries for a moment. She absolutely loved the old man. 

"Do you have my order, maester?" Catelyn asked.

The old man smiled at his lady with respect and amusement.

"I have, my Lady." He said. "Do you want me to bring it here?"

"If you would be so kind, yes." The woman said.

(Y/n)'s eyes flashed with curiosity. She bit her lip while the maester disappeared into his study, leaving the girl in the company of her lady. She looked at Catelyn, the woman smiled warmly at her.

"How much do you know of birds?" Catelyn asked.

Her question puzzled the girl even more. She blinked once, confused by the sudden change of subject.

"Not a lot, I fear." She said honestly.

Catelyn chuckled.

"And they call you 'The Dornish Bird', aren't you supposed to know about your kind?" She said.

(Y/n) pouted again, making the older woman laugh wholeheartedly. She reached out to the girl's head and caressed her soft hair as she would do to her youngest sons, but stopped after a short moment. That girl would be her daughter in law soon, Catelyn shouldn't treat her like a child anymore. The woman sighed happily. She would have to find another way of showing her affection towards her sweet bard.

At that moment, the maester returned to where the two women waited. (Y/n) noticed a big steel cage in his hand.

"Here, My Lady." The maester said.

He held the cage a little higher, revealing a beautiful creature resting peacefully on the inside. (Y/n) gasped, amazed by the regal-looking animal.

"Is this an eagle, maester?" She asked.

The old man chuckled at her mistake, while Lady Catelyn sighed. That girl wasn't lying when she said she knew nothing about birds.

"It's a Snowy Owl, my dear." Luwin said.

"Oh."

(Y/n) blushed under the wise man's gaze. She never had much knowledge about flying creatures. The girl knew how to cook them, though. That experience she acquired from her days on the road. Sometimes, her father couldn't find an inn, and they had to sleep somewhere in the forest. The dinner would be a delicious animal her father hunted with his old bow. She missed those days.

"A Snowy Owl, then." The girl mumbled. "She is gorgeous."

"It's a male owl, (Y/n)." Luwin corrected, earning himself a light snort from the girl. "It was trained as a crow to deliver messages.  The only difference, though, is the hunting talents these creatures have, and it's intelligence. They can follow orders and obey their master."

"So it is like an eagle." (Y/n) whispered to herself, being heard only by her lady.

Catelyn sighed and shook her head. 'This girl can be impossible sometimes.' She thought.

"You can let It hunt twice a day." Luwin said. "Speak to It regularly so It can be familiar with your voice. Don't try to pet it. This one is quite short-tempered."

"Sounds like it's a match then." Catelyn said, smiling to the man. "Thank you, maester. They will be very happy together."

She took the cage from Luwin's hand with a little difficulty, since the weight of the object was more than she anticipated. Without hesitation, the woman shoved the bird and its cage into (Y/n)'s arms. The girl gasped, surprised by the sudden motion.

"Congratulations, girl. You have an owl." The lady stated.

The girl blinked, shocked. She examined the bird in her hands carefully, only to realize she was being watched by its huge yellow eyes. Its gaze was heavy like it could see her soul. The girl shivered under that gaze.

"I'm honored, Lady Stark." She panted. "But I don't think I need an owl. Who would I send a message to?"

Catelyn remained silent for a moment. She looked deep into the girl's eyes. That shiny (E/c) eyes reminded her of the day she met the girl. She remembered how much the girl had grown under her protection. (y/n) evolved her skills and learned new things while living with the Stark family. She had changed so much since then. From that humble young girl to a fearless woman. That's what she has become: A true woman. At that moment, Catelyn knew she had made the right choice. 

Without a warning, the Lady of Winterfell took the cage from (Y/n)'s hands and put it aside. Confused, the girl frowned but had no time to think about it. Catelyn opened her slender arms and locked her protegé in a warm embrace. (Y/n) gasped, surprised for the sudden display of affection.

The girl was used to hug the Stark children all the time, especially the younger ones. She even considered hugging Theon, but only when she had too much wine in her blood. But never the Lords of Winterfell. She was taught to respect them, to admire them as her leaders. As much as she loved them, she knew physical contact could be considered a tremendous disrespect. That was a delicate line she could not cross.

And yet, in the comfort of her lady's embrace, she felt safe.

"I need you to be strong, girl." Catelyn softly spoke. "I will trust you with the things I love more in this world. I need you to take care of my girls and to watch over my husband. Care for them as they were part of your family since you're already part of ours. I'll not send away only two, but three daughters."

The world seemed to crumble under (Y/n)'s feet. As much as she wanted to conceal her uneasiness, her worry was too strong to hide. She understood her Lady's words far too well. That wasn't a strict order, but a genuine plea. A heartfelt farewell from a mother's core.

With those heavy words and a duty recently put upon her shoulders, (Y/n) knew she wasn't a girl anymore. She was now responsible for her Lady's family. She needed to be stronger, wiser. It was time to put her childish heart at bay and cast her fears aside to reborn into something new. She wasn't the Dornish Bird anymore. 

She was a woman.

---------------------

That’s it for today, thanks for reading!  Reblog to help me, leave a comment if you liked this chapter.

Tag List: @evilunicorns4minions, @black-widow-fangirl, @aristocracy-y, @aspiring-fangirls-world, @thedeacywaltz, @riddlersriddlet, @nialeesato, @peachyblinderss

I hope I’m not forgetting anyone.  If you wish to be tagged as well, please tell me. Thank you all!

~ See ya!

[the-king-andthe-lionheart]

"...but I don't see her governing Winterfell as its lady in the way Cat did."

???

A QUEEN REGNANT is a female monarch, equivalent in rank, title and position to a king. She reigns suo jure (in her own right) over a realm known as a kingdom; as opposed to a Queen CONSORT, who is married to a reigning king or a queen regent, who is the guardian of a child monarch and rules pro tempore in the child's stead or instead of her husband who is absent from the realm, be it de jure in sharing power or de facto in ruling alone. A QUEEN REGNANT is sometimes called a woman king. (Wikipedia)

See this idiocy is why people in this fandom don't seem to understand anything about feudalistic politics. Catelyn Stark was essentially a Lady CONSORT of Winterfell and wielded very little political power. The only authority she had was rewarded to her by her husband. Catelyn's job is to provide heirs, run the household, make sure her daughters got a proper education, and to entertain guests. That was her job and it's not fundamentally that political in nature, not when you compare it to being a regnant. So yeah, Arya wouldn't be like Cat. When we are talking about Arya wielding political power in the future it has nothing to do with her being some CONSORT, but a REGNANT, like a ruling King or Lord. The people in that world that actually have power. Or we are talking about Arya possibly being on a King's or Queen's counsel (something she actually mentioned wanting to do in AGOT) and being Mistress of Whispers or Mistress of Coin and/or being a diplomat. So no, those roles do not require Arya to be "traditionally feminine", not that being "traditionally feminine" is some sort of requirement to rule. If it were then the men would be doing needlepoint and wearing skirts.

Arya is getting the exact same education as Lord Varys, and one of the main things Arya learns to do is adapt. We see her adaptation skills evolve. We see her learning new languages to the point where people think she's a native speaker, we see her pretending to be "feminine" Mercy, we see her learning how to act so well that she knows how to stand like a hero, how to perform rousing speeches, and she learns every single line in that play of hers. We see her learning how to disguise herself and become more comfortable in her skin. Yet, I'm supposed to believe that Arya isn't going to employ this in the future in her everyday life? Haven't we been hearing about this "Lord's face" since book 1? You know the mask the nobles put on to perform their duties, as opposed to being a father, husband, and friend? I'm supposed to believe that Arya isn't going to perform and adapt to each situation even if that means wearing a silk gown and pretending she's sewing while listening for gossip that may be important in political situations?

Honestly it's fucking laughable how so many people just ignore HUGE aspects about Arya's character and arc and themes all to be like "Nah, she isn't FEmiNInE enough" to do what is considered a man's job in this fictional world. Like, sorry not sorry, but considering how patriarchal Westeros' society is, any female ruler will have to straddle that line of masculine and feminine in order to keep their positions. Something that Arya already does. People love comparing Sansa to Queen Elizabeth despite the fact that Queen Elizabeth straddled that line as well, something Sansa is currently incapable of doing. There is a reason why Elizabethan women's attire took on a masculine edge during her reign, and that was entirely political and denoted the queen putting a foot in both masculine and feminine roles. And before anyone says something, yes, Arya does display many stereotypical feminine traits. Just because she's practical about not wanting to wear a dress when she's planning on playing or running for her life doesn't mean she's not stereotypically "feminine" in a lot of other aspects. Just because she wanted equal opportunities as her brothers does not make her stereotypically "masculine". Just because she's active does not make her stereotypically "masculine".

I mean just look at Margaery. Many of the things she does are active and you can clearly run parallels to her activities and interpersonal skills with the everyday person to Arya. However, just because Margaery wears gowns and knows how to simper apparently makes her the "epitome of femininity". *rolls eyes* Like I would not be one bit surprised if we learned that Margaery and Loras played with swords together as children, just like Arya.

Honestly this fandom can be so tiring. Like let's be clear about something, someone's gender does not make someone more biologically predisposed to a way of behaving. "Masculinity" and "femininity" are completely made up social constructs used to oppress both women and men and they don't actually exist. It's not something biological within us to behave a certain way. If people grew up a society with none of these social constructs driven into them from the very womb, none of these things would exist and people would just be doing what they like to do.

But seriously, I think one of the biggest issues in this fandom, besides the blatant fucking misogyny, is that hardly anyone voicing their opinions about politics in these books knows anything about feudalistic medieval societies and their politics and it shows.

I have a question for people who fervently argue that Arya has no potential for politics but think that Sansa will be one of the main political characters, and I'm asking this seriously.

If Arya learning multiple languages, how to tell + detect lies, how to rule her face so she doesn't reveal her emotions, being able to blend into different situations, thinking quick on her feet, knowing the importance of gathering information, being someone who makes friends wherever she goes, convincing a FM to help free Northern prisoners and participating in a coup, etc. don't make Arya capable of participating in politics...what exactly is it that you think Sansa will be doing as a political figure?

[aviss]

👀

This was also written pre season 8. I had wanted to see everyone defending Brienne, so this was the first scene. It also had Sansa and Arya and the Hound defending Brienne’s honour :)

Jaime rested against the wall catching his breath for a moment, his sword still in his hand and his entire body aching with the beating he had taken. He couldn't help the smile on his face as each individual muscle let itself be felt; he hadn't had a sparring session like this in a long time, and would be offended that Brienne wasn't that short of breath were it not for the matching smile on her face at his progress. They had been at it since whatever passed for sunrise in these dark times, their concentration narrowed just to each other and the clash of their swords, and it had only been the grumbling of their stomachs what had made them stop.

He pulled his absolute focus from the fight their surroundings resolved into Winterfell's yard, the noise blanketing it into the voices of its inhabitants.

Jaime knew the only reason he had not been beheaded the instant he had arrived, without his army and with the news of his sister's betrayal, was the fact the Wall had fallen. They were all living on borrowed time, and Jon Snow refused to deprive his army of any person willing and able to fight, especially one wielding Valyrian steel. He had been told, in no uncertain terms, that should they survive the fight he would face justice for his many crimes. That was fine by him, it wasn't as if he had a longer life expectancy in the south now Cersei wanted him dead, and this way he had a chance to fight next to Brienne and maybe die with some honour.

He turned to ask if Brienne wanted to break her fast in the Great Hall with him like every morning, and saw the smile slipping from her face, a flush that had nothing to do with exhaustion taking over her features. Jaime frowned and focused on the noise around them, tuning in the conversations. He usually tuned them out at the first mention of his hated title, something he had too many years of experience doing.

"Is she even a woman or do you think there's a cock under those breeches?" One of the men around the yard was asking, his voice pitched to carry, designed to be heard and hurt. Even during the end of the world, men were cunts. "I mean, she looks enough like one of those wildling giants for it."

"I think the giants are prettier than she is," another one said, chuckling. "She's always around Lady Sansa, and looks even uglier next to the Lady."

"Or with the Kingslayer, who's also prettier."

Laugher around them and Jaime clenched his hand around his sword, turning to face them, damned the consequences. Brienne's hand on the crook of his arm stopped him, and she shook her head. "It's not worth it," she said, but her eyes were dulled and her face flushed with humiliation. Even if the Starks decided to kill him for attacking some of his men, it would be worth it if it wiped that expression from her face. 

"You Southron kneelers know nothing of real women," a new voice interjected, rough sounding and dripping with scorn. At this Jaime finally turned, though Brienne's hand on his arm tightened. It was the red-headed wildling Jaime had seen around King Jon, and he looked wilder and more imposing up close than he had in the glimpses he had caught before. "You think small and soft's good cos you're weak and can't take a real woman, need one weak like you. When the Walkers come small and soft run and die, but that woman," he nodded at Brienne, his face full of admiration and desire. Jamie saw reflected in the wildling's eyes the same respect and adoration he tried to keep concealed when staring at Brienne and wondered at the fact that he was only filled with satisfaction, not jealousy, another man saw her value. "She fights, and saves your ugly hides while you weaklings cower behind her."

The soldiers who had been mocking her looked too terrified of the wildling to retort, apparently only brave enough in the face of women and cripples forbidden to fight them. Jaime turned to Brienne again when he felt a pull on his arm; she was moving away, pulling him with her, face still aflame with mortification, but there was something easier in her posture, her shoulders not as taut as before, and for that Jaime was glad. 

He'd find the man later.

…

Jaime found the wildling in the Great Hall the following day, breaking his fast with the King and laughing loudly. It seemed the free people north of the Wall didn't stand on ceremony; even if they were willing to follow the King in the North to death, they would not kneel nor show any respect that had not been earned with steel and blood. Jaime was reluctant to approach him in the current company but had wanted to speak to the wildling since the incident the previous morning, and Brienne was currently occupied sparring with Arya Stark.

He walked to their table before taking any food, ignoring the puzzled frown on the King's face. For a moment Jaime considered summoning his old arrogance but immediately dismissed the idea, he was only there on the mercy of that man and they were both fully aware of it. 

"Your Grace," he said with as respectful a bow as he could manage. Jon's frown deepened, his eyes narrowing and before he could say anything Jaime turned to the wildling. "I heard you're called Tormund Giansbane." It hadn't been difficult to find out who he was, though Brienne had refused to talk about the man the previous day. She had refused to talk about anything that had happened in the yard, much to Jaime's frustration, and he had been unable to find out from her whether those kind of insults were frequent.

Tormund stared at him fiercely for a moment. "Aye," he said finally, nodding at the empty seat in front of him, a clear invitation. "and I've heard you're called Kingslayer."

Jaime gritted his teeth. "Jaime Lannister, in fact."

"But you did slay your king, kneeler that you are," Tormund insisted, though there was a lack of malice and judgement in his voice and expression Jaime had rarely encountered, it made it easier for him to reply with sincerity. 

"He needed slaying, the Mad King," he admitted, the words coming out of his mouth without leave from his brain. He had only ever confided in one other person about this. "It was him or an entire city burning."

Jaime could feel Jon Snow's eyes burning on the side of his face and knew there would be a thorough interrogation in his future, possibly with the mad cunt's daughter present, but he didn't say anything, probably too curious as to why would a Lannister seek a wildling.

Tormund just nodded, as if that was all he needed to know, and maybe it was. Why would a free folk judge a kneeler who stood and killed his King? "What you want with me, Jaime Lannister?"

"You defended Lady Brienne yesterday," he began, only to be interrupted.

"Aye, and you didn't," he said, eyes narrowed. "She's your woman, right? You let those weaklings insult and mock her, you a weakling too?"

Now the King wasn't even bothering to hide his interest, looking between the two of them as if watching a particularly interesting spar. Jaime gritted his teeth, his face flushing in anger. "She's not my woman," he ground out, almost a growl. Yet, a voice in his mind added. "And I would have if she hadn't stopped me and dragged me away. If I raise my sword against the living in the North, your King will take my head," he said with a nod to said King, who was now frowning. He took a breath, he had not come here to fight, he had a question which needed answering. "What happened yesterday, is it common?"

Tormund looked at him, calculating. "What you gonna do if it is? You can't fight them and she won't."

"Is it?" he growled, beginning to get annoyed with the Wildling.

"No," Tormund finally admitted, and Jaime unclenched his fist, letting himself relax. "Usually's worse, but you ain't wanna know. She ain't want you to know."

It was what he had suspected; the soldiers from the yard had been unpleasant, but nothing they had not heard before, nothing Jaime himself hadn't hurled at Brienne during their forced sojourn south, back when he was completely enthralled by his sister and Brienne saw nothing but an Oathbreaker when she looked at him. Would that he could take those words back now. She wouldn't have been in such a hurry to drag him away from the yard if she hadn't anticipated worse. "Don't I? I asked her, and she wouldn't tell me, now I'm asking you. I need to know."

Tormund stared at him, searching, his gaze evaluating him. Whatever he was looking for, he found it, his sharp gaze softening minutely. "The big lady, that's a real woman, I'll take her for mine if she want." She doesn't, Jaime wanted to say but kept behind his teeth, not wanting the wildling to stop before he found out what had been happening. "Those weaklings, they know nothing of women and call her ugly and mannish. The lady and I would make big giant babies to rule beyond the wall." Brienne hadn't been interested, that much was plain to see in the way she always had a frown on her face that moved between puzzlement and disgust when around Tormund, not that he seemed to care much. "Then you arrived, and they saw how she looks at you and fights with you and spends all her free time with you, and they ain't call her ugly beast anymore. They call her Kingslayer's whore."

Jaime froze, his blood turning to ice in his veins before it suddenly turned into lava, a searing rage that threatened to consume him. His left hand went automatically to the pommel of his sword, fingers clenched tightly around it, itching to pull it free of its sheath and take off the heads of everyone who had called Brienne that, who had dared use him to insult the most honourable woman in Westeros. "Have my head if you will," he spat at the King, his voice twisted into a snarl. "I will kill anyone who repeats that within my hearing."

He needed to find Brienne and apologize for the trouble his mere presence was causing her, put himself between her and the entirety of the North, wrap himself around her sturdy form and keep her safe from everyone and everything. He just needed to find Brienne and stare into her eyes to calm himself before he did something rash.

Without so much as another glance at Tormund and Jon, he turned from their table and went outside, where he knew he would find her this time in the morning. 

…

[moonlitgleek]

"[Arya and Sansa] actually have a bit in common in terms of the skills they are picking up from their individual journeys" Can you please expand on that? I'd love to read more about their parallels!

I’ll speak to the parallels that I was thinking of when I wrote that, but I’m afraid this is not going to be comprehensive because it’s been a while since I read the books. I might come back to it later when I have the chance to do a reread.

Adapting to their surroundings and managing their image

Both Arya and Sansa have a penchant for adapting which develops from an intuitive reaction to a conscious effort that plays on managing people’s perception of them. Sansa approaches it through the medium of a lady’s education; she instinctively employs her socially-approved image as a proper lady and her courtesies to try and sway the court in her favor when she delivers her plea for Ned’s life, then consciously and carefully modifies her mannerisms and her wardrobe to reflect the persona she wants to convince others of as she shifts from playing Joffrey’s dedicated royal betrothed to Littlefinger’s daughter-slash-mentee to the bastard girl the Vale lords think her to be. She takes care of how to present herself to various factions and leans into people’s perception of her as unthreatening and naive to achieve her goals. Who would think that little Sansa was planning her escape in the godswood? Who would pay much attention to the unassuming bastard girl?

Arya also leans into people’s mistaken perceptions of her. She is repeatedly mistaken for a boy which she eventually uses to conceal her true identity and evade capture. We see her high awareness of how to behave while with Yoren to pass as a boy and is conscious of how her dirty appearance at Harrenhal sells her false identity as a peasant and tries to behave accordingly. She learns to be conscious of her mannerisms in the House of Black and White to adapt to the identities she slips between. In fact, one of the main things Arya is taught during her time in Braavos is how to adapt to her surroundings and adjust everything else down to her body language and facial expressions to take on a new persona and she is very adept at it. She has also repeatedly uses the fact that people underestimate her because of her size or her gender to get close enough to do what she wants, whether that’s to get information or to launch an attack as she did with the weasel soup.

That’s three skills the girls are getting better at: learning to adapt, learning how to use self-presentation to support an endeavor or alter perception, and learning how to deliberately play on others’ expectations to accomplish your goal. All of which are extremely handy in political situations.

Experiencing the life of the disadvantaged

The experiences that Sansa and Arya go through in their individual journeys are sure to inform the political philosophy of both girls. As we’ve seen with the example of Aegon V and his pro-smallfolk reforms, a life among the lower social classes can have a significant effect on policy. Aegon V lived with the commoners over the course of his squiring for Ser Duncan the Tall which made him more attuned to the needs and struggles of a social class that often goes ignored by the high lords. Daenerys’ powerlessness and harsh life similarly informs her anti-slavery campaign in Slaver’s Bay.

In the same vein, Sansa and Arya’s arcs in the aftermath of Ned’s death leads them to live the life of the disadvantaged in a way that could only elevate their natural compassion. The girls are innately kind, and Arya in particular has always been sensitive to injustices inflicted on the weak, but it remains that the girls start the series with a great deal of privilege as the daughters of a great lord who, despite his own compassionate nature, doesn’t really know what it is to live a disenfranchised or unprivileged life. That Sansa experiences the prejudiced attitude leveled at bastards and Arya shares in the hardships the smallfolk go through could only bolster their innate kindness in having them able to empathize with the plight of those who suffer from the class hierarchy that tramples the weak in the game of thrones. The degree of separation that the girls had before gets degraded to an extent. They struggle through those hardships and prejudices, through the cruelty and apathy of the noble class towards a population they don’t see as valuable enough. That can only make Sansa and Arya mindful of how their decisions reflect on those below them in the social ladder when they are the ones in charge and enable them to be a source of change to the social attitude towards lower classes.

A similar effect would result from how the girls went through experiences that showed themthe horrors of war. Arya travels through the Riverlands and sees how war, even just and righteous ones, ravishes the people and exacts a toll on the commoners first and foremost. She sees the destruction and the misery Robb’s troops inflict on innocents in a similar way to the Lannisters’. Sansa lives the reality of being a political hostage and what it really means to have your life hanging on the balance. While the Lannisters push and break the boundaries of acceptable practices as always, holding hostages against the good behavior of their family on the threat of death remains an acceptable political tool that everyone freely partakes in. It is also a fundamentally unjust practice that inflicts harm on people for the actions of their kin. The Starklings have all grown up with Theon suffering from that perilous position but none of them really understood it. That builds an awareness of the consequences of these accepted political practice and puts the human side of the game of thrones firmly on their minds.

Leadership skills

The arcs of the Starks girls, different as they get, keep circling back to how they personify an ideology that implanted the Starks into the very history of the North. Despite not being in power the way characters like Jon or Dany are in their own leadership roles, the girls find themselves in spaces that allows them to understand power, whether as a duty or a privilege, and build their own leadership model. The thing to note is that the Stark girls understand that leadership is a duty of protection and care. So it’s not just that Sansa saves Dontos Hollard or talks Joffrey into giving that poor Kingslander with the dead baby money instead of running her down, it’s not just that Arya fiercely pursues justice for those victimized by the Lannisters from Mycah to Ned to Lanna to Lomy; it’s that the girls understand that that leadership is a responsibility. Sansa correctly identifies that ruling through love through easing the suffering of people is the correct principle and considers it a main part of royal role.Arya steps in for her family taking on the role of the Stark in Winterfell when she metes out justice to Daeron in the name of the Starks. Both girls reflect their father’s ideology and teachings, with Arya directly invoking Ned’s leadership lessons to Robb and Jon.

As the story progresses, the girls get more instances where they step up to take charge in time of need. Arya emerges as a natural leader during the attack on Yoren’s group and tries her best to steer her little newfound pack away from danger. She plots with Jaqen to free the Northmen and refuses to leave Gendy and Hot Pie behind when she flees Harrenhal. She takes Weasel under her wing and is very protective of her. Being caring and protective has always been in Arya’s nature but we see her growing awareness of the unfairness of the world and her determination to push back. This is the girl who stepped in between Joffrey and Mycah and was literally the only person who cares about justice for Mycah after all. Justice is a major concern for Arya, but she also clearly understands that justice has to be tempered with mercy as shown in her reaction to the Karstark men dying in crow cages.

Where Arya leans more towards the protector role, Sansa leans towards the providing aspect of leadership. She is associated with the wish to provide foodstuff to the starving population of King’s Landing, with successfully getting Joffrey to give money, with giving comfort to the terrified women during the Blackwater, with helping Lancel and calling for medical attention. Her more traditional feminine skills like sewing and running the household has always been cited as majorly important skills to surviving in winter. Sansa’s story associates her with relief efforts which she is positioned to do as winter kicks in with a vengeance considering that Littlefinger is currently hoarding food up in the Vale. I’m quite invested in the theory that she’ll be the one to hold Winterfell during the thick of the War for the Dawn as the castle becomes a refuge for those fleeing winter and the Others. I think both girls will embody the historical roles of the Starks in that war, with Arya protecting the North with her wolf pack and Sansa comforting and taking care of the civilians inside the castle.

Political analysis and deduction skills

The girls are each developing a mind for political analysis that is being bolstered by the crash course they are receiving in the Vale and the House of Black and White respectively, under mentors who actively encourage them to hone their observation skills and connect the dots to a larger picture.

Sansa’s skill shows when she starts looking closer at her maids in the aftermath of Ned’s death and concludes that they are spying on her for Cersei. Her affinity for political analysis shows itself when she thinks over what Margaery’s betrothal to Joffrey and Loras’ appointment to the Kingsguard mean in light of Joff’s temperament, unknowingly putting her finger on the design of the Purple Wedding. In the aftermath of the wedding, she connects the missing amethyst in her hairnet and Dontos’ insistence that she wears it to the wedding to Joffrey’s murder, a fact Littlefinger confirms later. She also figures out that Petyr framed Tyrion from the information that he was the one who arranged for the jousting dwarves. In the Vale, Sansa understands the significance of Petyr’s act in granting Nestor Royce the Gates of the Moon as a political play, and pays close attention to the Lords Declarant upon their arrival in the Eyrie, noting the purpose behind the seating arrangements and deducing that Lyn Corbray is working with Littlefinger. Her training montage with Littlefinger includes lessons her about inheritance, the intricacies of social interactions and the interpersonal dynamics of Vale nobility which is immensely valuable in a political setting. Sansa is also basically running the Eyrie right now and her idea about the tourney of the Winged Knights and organizational skills shows budding political skill.

Meanwhile, Arya is developing a knack for gathering information from multiple sources and how to separate hard facts from her own deductions. She has always been good at listening and her underfoot tendencies gave her access to a lot of important information ahead of time, even if she does not always realize their importance in the moment. From the plotting of Varys and Illyrio to the design of the Red Wedding, Arya gets bits and pieces about some rather significant events. Syrio Forel hones her skills by teaching her to be fast and silent, to look closely and observe carefully which Arya consciously employs across her arc, most notably when she sees the guards in grey cloaks waiting by the Wind Witch and figures out that they are not her father’s men. The kindly man only bolsters Arya’s perceptiveness by forcing her to rely on her other senses and furthers her awareness of body language and facial expressions, both her own and other people’s, which helps her see through people’s lies and also sell her own lies capably. The kindly man also encourages Arya further to observe and listen once in Braavos by asking her to learn three new things every day, and the things Arya bring ranges from mundane (jabes, riddles) to important politically (sailor’s tales about the war in Slaver’s Bay and Dany’s dragons) and economically (”tricks of this trade or the other”).

On top of that, Arya’s time in Braavos exposes her to adifferent culture, ruling model and political atmosphere, which she we see her use to build a growing understanding of the politics of Bravoos and how it compares to that of Westeros. Her political ability shines through when she uses the data she gathered to deduce that the death of the current ill Sealord will bring a conflict and assassinations till a new one, who she identifies as Tormo Fregar, comes out on top. Arya’s knack of making friends with any and everyone, whether highborn and lowborn, Westeros native or not, means she is quite capable of building a huge network of relationships and diverse sources of information.

Parallels also exist in the way Sansa and Arya are both learning to recognize cues that they are being played or lied to. To slip between personas as befits their circumstances but without losing the core of their identity. They are gaining a lot of knowledge about political intrigue and learning the tools of diplomatic relations. The methods and the aspects of their training montages may differ, but I don’t think the skills they are each acquiring are all that divergent. In fact, I think the girls’ skills are rather complementary, and they are each meant to enhance and round off the other’s skillset.

[7deadlycinderellas]

If the summer of our lives could just come again, ch26

Ao3 link

The first comment Sansa makes upon seeing Val for the first time with Robb and Ned is,

“Wow, she’s pretty. Like, southern pretty even.”

“Bit too blonde for me,” Gendry comments, “Makes me think of the Lannisters.”

And blonde she is, and tall with regal features, even in her northern furs.

“Don’t be fooled,” Ygritte comments from her end on the line, “She had a man last I heard, story was she stole him, not the other way around.”

While the others are entering and helping unpack, Arya eyes Val. Her face looks three parts stony resolve, one part confused. She interrupts her assessment only to throw her arms around Ned and Robb.

“Oi, it’s been too long. Is that whole place still an unholy mess?”

Ned smiles fondly,

“Most of the most troublesome have either fallen to fights or finally calmed down. Most don’t much like the thought of being northerners, but they like the idea of being killed by Others even less. It’s an alliance of necessity.”

Sansa’s response is quiet,

“At least now they should be considered northerners by the rest of the seven kingdoms.”

Ned’s voice is sedate.

“After the wedding, I’m calling the banners. Whatever Tywin may try to throw at us afterwards will come upon chaos.”

Sansa nods.

Catelyn is standing beside Jon and Ygritte, and she steels her face and reaches to grasp Val’s hands warmly, or what she hopes passes for warmly.

Val’s gaze is distracted when she sees Ygritte.

“Mance and Jarl both?” Ygritte asks, her voice thin.

Val nods. She still hasn’t spoken.

“Dalla and the babe too?”

Val nods again, and then speaks.

“All dead at the Wall. I ran.”

Ygritte’s lips pinch,

“Damn it all, I’m sorry.”

“How did you even-”

Catelyn cuts them both off,

“From what I’ve heard, it’s a very long story and you must be tired from the journey, let’s get you settled in.”

As Catelyn shows her the way, Jon sees Arya sprout up beside them and ask,

“What do you fight with?”

“Arya!” Catelyn admonishes,

“What? It’s an important question.”

“Anything I can get in my hands,” Val responds, quietly.

“See? We can work with that.”

When Catelyn leads her away, Val catches sight of Shireen and goes still. She’s standing with Jojen, Meera and Brienne a little apart from the rest of the Starks. Catelyn turns Val’s shoulders away, but Shireen feels the urge to pull her cloak over her face until she feels Jojen reach down and squeeze her hand.

“It doesn’t matter,” he reminds her.

The next moons are full of far too much sewing for Arya’s taste. Catelyn takes it upon herself to sew Val her maiden’s cloak and a proper gown for the occasion. Despite Val’s ferocity, she seems utterly at a loss at the power of Catelyn’s femininity.

And so Arya figures she might as well muck in. And she feels she’s done admirably, at least until one day she has to flee to the forge for a bit.

Arya shakes her head at Gendry while he works at a sheet of mail.

“We’ve been running hems,” she tells him. That’s just one thing. Sansa’s gotten it in her head to add lace to both her and Meera’s gowns she made them years ago, and they can’t seem to figure out how to dissuade her.

“Meera and I. She can mend things well enough, but never learned to do anything fancy, so we both just sort of stand back…”

She’s trailing off and Gendry fishes,

“Did something happen?”

Arya smiles grimly.

“I was doing a sleeve hem- slowly- when Shireen asked why I hold the needle in my right hand when I hold my sword in my left.”

Gendry quirks an eyebrow at her.

“Why do you? I’ve seen you write with your left hand too.”

Arya crosses her arms.

“That’s how I was taught. Septa Mordane was always very strict on doing things just as she did, and Mother always said I must listen to the Septa.”

There’s a bit of silence.

“Was it better when you switched?”

Arya sits on one of the benches.

“They were crooked as ever, but they sure took a lot less effort.”

The times she’d stitched wounds back together, Arya thought, she’d used her left hand too. It bristles at her, the thought that something that drove her so mad as a child might just have been caused by something so small. So many years, in shame. It wasn’t like she magically enjoyed doing needlework, but still.

Gendry senses her discomfort, and puts the mail down to sit next to her on the bench. He puts an arm around her shoulders and rests his cheek against her hair.

“We haven’t really talked about it have we?”

Arya looks at him funny.

“About what?”

“About what we’re going to do once all of this is over.”

Arya is quiet, far too quiet. Far quieter than she ever was.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” she admits, “I can’t seem to think of anything after…”

Gendry takes her hands onto his lap and idly rubs the backs of them with the thumb of his left hand. He kisses her head once, and squeezes his right arm around her more tightly.

“What do you want to do? If you could do anything at all with your life?”

Arya exhales through her nose, thinking deeply.

“All I used to want was to be back at Winterfell, with all of my family. I got that, I have it. It’s more than I could have ever dreamed of. But now Robb’s getting married and the war’s coming, and it’s like...I know it can’t be like this forever. Eventually, most of us will leave and go our separate ways.”

Her voice keeps trailing off, as though it’s getting lost.

“And it’s like my feet are itchy. I want to see- something, anything out there. Maybe it’s because I know that now if I leave it will still be here when I come back.”

Gendry brushes a bit of her hair behind her ear, and moves his lip to that one spot behind it that always makes her shiver.

“I guess we can talk about this all again once we do survive this war,” he whispers to her.

Arya nuzzles herself against him.

“What about you? Are you really content being a smith all your life.”

“It’s good work,” Gendry tells her, “I admit, I’d rather be known for making armor than weapons.”

“After this war you’ll be known for both.’

Armor, is what Sansa thinks of when the day of the wedding comes and her and Arya are helping Val into her gown and cloak. The gown is plain while wool embroidered with silver and gold.

Arya ties her stays, and then laces her gown over it. She hands her the plain white wool cloak as Sansa helps brush her hair.

Val looks at it,

“I thought it was the fur one.”

Arya shakes her head.

“That’s the bride’s cloak. This is the maiden’s. It’s supposed to be what you’re giving up.”

Sansa tries to work the brush through her hair gently. She’d tried brushing Ygritte’s earlier, only for Arya to shoo her off saying, “You’ll scare her all the way to Dorne if you try and brush her hair like you used to brush mine!”

“I’m sorry,” Sansa tells her quietly, “This is all horseshit.”

Arya quirks an eyebrow, and Val’s response is harsh.

“If you was so opposed to your brother marrying a wildling, you should have said something. Though I suppose you southerners would have to defer to your lords.”

Sansa yanks on the bit of hair she’s holding.

“Given our understanding of the Free Folk might make it seem like you might up and slit our brother’s throat one day, you should understand being a bit cautious. Besides, I don’t think that’s what she meant,” Arya tells her, with a wiley, hunter’s gaze trained on her.

“That is indeed, not what I meant,” Sansa replies wryly. “I was saying it was horseshit that when you chose to get married that it had to be something about forging a bond between two groups in hopes of surviving a war. Once the war’s done, you’ll still be stuck with Robb.”

Val mutters something about how he had never even proven himself by stealing her properly.

“If you want to follow that tradition so bad, steal him,” Arya tells her sardonically, “We’ve heard you’ve done it before, and there will be so much wine flowing at the feast it shouldn’t take too much effort, and most southerners don’t carry their swords to weddings.”

Even without Theon here to get Robb even further into his cups, Sansa muses. It really is a shame that one of his closest friends will have to miss his wedding, though Theon would have likely spent the whole day making awful jokes.

Sansa smiles, with just a hint of teeth.

“Remember though, that he is our brother. Mother says that once you’re married, you’ll be family too, but if you try to harm him in any way, that won’t stop us from slitting your throat either.”

Arya quirks an eyebrow

“Sansa may look like a perfect southern lady, but she’s grown as handy with a bow as she is with a sewing needle.”

“And Arya has always preferred swords and other things with pointy ends to proper ladies pastimes. We used to call her a little wildling.”

Val’s deflates a bit.

“I would have done about anything to get most of us out of that place,” she mutters, and Sansa feels a flash of sympathy. She understands being held against your will, “If you say he’s a good man…”

“He is,” Arya assures her proudly, “And Jon’s probably giving him a go-over right now. If anyone understands Free Folk women here, it’s him.”

They were right in fact. Robb was currently getting a shake down from Jon and Ygritte. There’s the usual, that Val won’t know her southern courtesies, that she might occasionally threaten people. That she has, in fact, been with men before him and won’t blush.

“And she might try and drag you off at some point tonight. Not that you should just let her do it, but try not to panic, she’s not going to kill you. Probably,” is how Ygritte puts it.

Jon shakes his head,

“I still don’t understand the whole bit about stealing your spouse.”

“Well you should,” Ygritte insists, with a conspiratorial grin, “You stole me. Twice.”

Jon wrinkles his nose,

“I did not!”

The argument devolves after that and Robb puts his head in his hands.

“Is this what my future looks like?”

Jon and Ygritte both nod.

“Best get used to it now.”

When Jon moves to lace up in doublet in the mirror (Made by Catelyn, embroidered by Sansa), Ygritte pats Robb on the shoulder.

“You don’t have to do what we talked about,” she tells him quietly, “But I think you really should try.”

Twilight has fallen, and it’s time for the ceremony. Ned comes to Robb, and Davos to Val. She looks at him warily before taking his arm.

“Tradition dictates that this should be your father,” he tells her, “But far too many have lost their fathers too young, and I seem to be standing in more and more.”

The weather that day is snowy, and the Godswood is under a thick covering of powder, but thankfully, it is not windy. This is a regular snow, not a blizzard. Everyone has their cloak hoods up, hiding their faces, as the wedding party meets under the Heart tree. Even the Free Folk who are in attendance, members of the household as well as a few granted leave from the Dreadfort, seem to recognize the winter weather.

The crowd isn’t enormous. Not all of the northern lords have been able to make the journey. Sansa fears that may bode poorly, for when Ned calls the banners. Despite the frequent ravens, and the visits by both Ned and Davos,

Ygritte’s in an emerald silk gown that Sansa had altered for her from one of her old ones, she’d been inspired, she told her, when she saw they shared the same hair. She’s shivering, and muttering about how ladies in fancy gowns were supposed to keep the freezing air from up their skirts.

Arya’s gown turned out wonderfully, Sansa thought. The layer of silver lace made the dark blue wool look almost like the night sky. Arya’s holding Gendry’s arm, and Sansa hears her ask quietly,

“You sure you aren’t going to up and want me to dress like this every day right?”

“If you wore gowns every day, it wouldn’t be special. Besides, you and I both know I prefer you in nothing at all.”

Sansa chuckles.

Everyone says their words right, and Robb and Val really do make a picture, Sansa thinks to herself. The other Free Folk in the group are all behaving, even if their faces range from bemused to outright mocking of the proceedings.

When everyone’s applauding, Sansa whispers to Arya, who’s on her left (Ygritte and Jon on her right),

“Marriage shouldn’t be the glue that holds these kingdoms together.”

Arya snickers.

“Only thing my marriage holds together is me.”

Arya doesn’t think of it, Sansa ruminated. Her marriage was only even allowed because of unusual circumstances, the best her and Gendry could have hoped for under normal ones would have been to run away together.

Sansa looks down the line at the rest of her family.

Jon is technically still breaking his oath to the Night’s Watch, not that anyone here really cared, and what with him being dead to them and all. Bran and Meera would actually be considered an excellent match, if it weren’t for the fact that they likely would have never met if it weren’t for the way their lives had been...disturbed.

Gendry interrupts her thoughts,

“Time for the feast though. There are worse things to try and find common ground over than food and drink.”

He has a point, though Sansa realizes his eyes are trained on one of the Free Folk men assembled behind Val’s side of the Godswood. With a start, Sansa realizes it’s Tormund. She feels a rush of fondness, and wishes to greet him, but knows it wouldn’t go well. She hopes he at least didn’t bring that fermented goat’s milk he drinks. That might cause brawls.

But, now is a time for merriment regardless. Maybe the last for a while.

The feast is quite subdued to be honest, but as grand as can be summoned. There is a huge stew of venison, mushrooms and roots, and meat pies, and enough wine is flowing that most of the guests might not notice that the middle of the pie is almost the same as the stew. Dried plums and apples have been soaked in water and honey and transformed into puddings.

And the wine and ale flow freely.

Much food is eaten, and much ale is drunk, and out comes the lutes and the pipes, and many begin to dance.

Sansa notes at one point, when the whole family is seated at the dais, that Robb appears to be only nursing his wine, and she thinks she realizes what’s going to happen.

The dais has been set up close to the entrance to the Great Hall, there’s nothing in the way of the exit at all.

It’s after all of them are quite full, when Sansa spots Val’s hand land on Robb’s arm. She looks confused for a moment.

“Are you-”

And with one swift movement, Robb hoists her up around the waist and throws her over one shoulder, heading towards the door. It’s close enough that she barely even yells, in surprise or objection, though she swears she hears Robb say, “I’ve got four younger siblings, you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

Sansa raises an eyebrow.

Jon points at Ygritte.

“Her and Arya suggested it might mean something to Val that he at least try  to steal her as a wildling might. I told Robb to make sure and wear his chainmail under his clothes, or she’d bruise him through all seven hells and back, at the very least, if she didn’t break a rib or two of his.”

There’s a smarting of applause and shouts from the Free Folk in the room, and Sansa hears Tormund hollar “Watch out for her feet, lad, they’re the sharpest part of her!” and it helps put the image of chainmail at a wedding out of her mind. She sips her wine.

“Do we think she’ll escape at all?” Gendry asks.

“Not with how tight I laced her stays up earlier,” Arya interjects with a smirk. “Too bad I couldn’t find one of those freakish southern ones with the whale bones. What savages she would have thought us then?”

Sansa notes too that many of the northern lords who had made the journey for the wedding look terribly uncomfortable. Catelyn looks uncomfortable, too, but tries to hide it by sipping her wine.

“Do we think this had more or less dignity than a traditional bedding?” Ned inquires.

“At least it was done quicker,” is Bran’s take.

“And no one but Robb touched her at all,” Sansa adds. She turns to Ned, “I always heard you forbad the bedding at your and Mother’s wedding, was that true?”

Ned nods, eyes training gently towards Catelyn.

“I had thought that the day would be traumatic enough without adding that on top.”

He stands, and reaches for her hand, wordlessly asking for a dance. Catelyn’s hand shakes a bit as she accepts.

Sansa’s glad. She remembers pulling Shireen away from the bedding at Joffrey’s wedding. She remembers the terror of the possibility at both of her weddings. She remembers Arya brushing away any attempts to even suggest one.

Bran’s moved over to one of the other tables to sit with Meera, Davos and Brienne, and Arya and Gendry have gotten up to dance as well, so Sansa’s alone at the table. She finishes her wine. Another wedding down. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Shireen ask Jojen if he wants to dance.

Well, that might be interesting.

“The last wedding I went to was in the south. This part is pretty much the same, but the ceremony was completely different.”

Shireen’s not the best dancer, so they’re just keeping off to one side and going at half-speed. Well, her feet, not her mouth.

“I don’t remember the last wedding we attended back home,” Jojen admits, “I know most of our traditions are northern, but there must be some differences too. Weddings never really interested me much, I was never sure if I would end up getting married myself at all. Somehow, I didn’t think so.”

Bran had mentioned to him once, that when they had gone north before, that Jojen had seemed resigned. That he had apparently seen his own death and had come to accept it. Jojen feels like he’s spent most of his life in that state, even if it was never specific.

“Me either,” Shireen admits, “So much of how they educate girls is about marriage and wifely duties. But everyone always seemed to think finding someone to marry me would be hard, so I tried not to waste too much time thinking about it.”

She also imagined that if her father had ever managed to arrange a match for her, then it probably wouldn’t be an ideal one. Who could be convinced to marry a girl with a face like hers, even if she was his sole heir?

“Maybe once your father returns from the Wall, he’ll betroth you to one of the Stark boys.”

Shireen makes a noise that’s halfway between a giggle and a snort that thankfully hides the tightness she suddenly feels in her chest.

“Since we’ve gotten here, I’ve seen Rickon go off, or try to go off with four or five of the wildling girls here. One or two of the boys too. I doubt my father would approve. And after I bumped into Bran kissing your sister the second day I was here, I sort of figured he’d been spoken for.”

Jojen’s eyes suddenly go wide.

“Oh...did you not know that?” Shireen asks, suddenly feeling awkward in a different way. “They were a little embarassed but didn’t seem ashamed or like they were trying to hide.”

Jojen sighs deeply, his eyes downcast.

“They never really talk about what happened between them after I died,” he admits, “I just know Meera was really anxious about seeing him again. I guess I should have realized.”

He looks so lost, Shireen thinks. He said he never thought about marriage, but didn’t he ever want something like for himself at all? The tightness in her chest has returned,

“I mean,” she says, “They do go off by themselves a lot.”

Jojen frowns, a blank look on his face. They’re not dancing anymore, just sort of standing off to the side though their hands are still touching. Most of the rest of the floor is heavily into their cups already and aren’t paying them any mind.

“Well,” he says, “We do that too.”

Shireen’s heart is now thudding, she can feel her blood rushing to her ears.

“We do,” she agrees.

Her eyes fix suddenly on his lips. They’re nearly the same height, and she doesn’t even have to tilt her head. She could kiss him right now.

Should she?

She feels her hands sweat where they touch. She blames the wine, even though she didn’t even have half a cup. Maybe she’ll blame this on it too.

With a burst of courage she’s not sure where she got from, she leans forward and presses her lips to his. It’s brief, and soft, and when she pulls back she’s frightened to see his reaction.

“Was that okay?” she asks, searching his face.

There’s a long pause before he says,

“I think so.”

Another pause,

“Maybe you should try it again to make sure.”

A grin explodes on her face. Well, he suggested it, so she does.

And like Shireen thought, the only people in the room who even catch a glimpse are Davos and Brienne.

The old man feels a smile creep onto his face.

“Shireen spoke of you quite a bit at Storm’s End,” Brienne tells him, “the two of you were close?”

Davos nods.

“I have seven sons of my own. Shireen is the closest I’ve ever had to a daughter.”

And now he’s gotten to see her life continue well beyond where it had before.

Brienne glances at the end of the table.

“We’re alone now it seems. When did the others leave?”

“A few minutes ago when you were fending off the ginger fellow, Bran asked the girl to help him to his room.”

Brienne looks confused.

“He doesn’t usually need assistance for that does he?”

Davos shakes his head.

But, Bran thought as they made their way down the hallway, an excuse is an excuse.

Meera stokes the fire when he sits on the edge of his bed.

“One more wedding down,” he says, echoing Sansa’s sentiment.

“It’s too bad this one is just a sign of an impending war.”

Meera turns and sits next to him. She’s perfectly comfortable here. She’d snuck into bed with him a few nights in a row when Jojen had been ill and his cough had been keeping her from sleep. It had felt normal, like when they had huddled for warmth over the wall.

There’s something different tonight though. Maybe it’s the occasion, maybe it’s the firelight.

Bran leans forward to kiss her slowly. She turns to deepen the kiss, and a frisson of need rushes through the both of them and it’s like a dam breaks.

Hands that had previously only cautiously wandered, seek each other out with what she can only describe as a hunger to disocover the other’s skin. Meera’s hand hovers the ties at the front of Bran’s jerkin and she whispers, “please” against his throat before she begins to undo the ties.

She has to turn to let Bran’s hands find the laces on her gown and begin to undo them. She realizes they’re shaking.

With her laces undone, she turns to steady his hands with her own. They’re covered in calluses and scars from years of working the dragonglass, but they comfort all the same.

“It’s okay,” she tells him, runniing her fingers up and down his forearms, “It’s not like I’ve ever done this before either.”

Her words seem to calm him, he nods to her as she lets the top of her gown fall to her waist.

In what seems a split second, both are stripped bare, eyes drinking each other in and lips seeking to kiss each freckle, each scar. Bran’s hand tentatively finds it’s way between her thighs, eyes seeking hers in wonder when he finds her warm and wanting.

Meera’s head hits the pillow, and she looks up at Bran hovering above her. She feels no fear, she realizes, only anticipation. With a kiss sweeter than many of the previous ones, she runs her hands down the flat expanse of his chest and further down.

And just once more, she looks deeply into Bran’s eyes and whispers,

“Please.”

Meera doesn’t quite expect pain when he enters her, though she does have a sliver of fear of it, but all she gets is a queer pressure that she might describe as uncomfortable until Bran groans and moves and it begins to blossom into pleasure.

She whimpers softly and tucks her head against his shoulder until he freezes with a grunt that sounds pained.

With a rush of fear, she pulls back and he slips out.

“Did I hurt you?” she asks anxiously, eyes searching his face.

“It’s fine, he says, “It’s just my hip. It’s not used to moving like that.”

More disappointed than she’d admit, Meera reaches into her mind for the few bits of advice Arya had inflicted upon her over the years.

“Lay back down,” she says, nudging him on his back. She shifts a bit and slides her leg over. Gently, she raises and lowers herself back into his lap.

It’s different like this, she thinks, but no less heady. Bran gazes up at her with adoration in his eyes as she rocks against him, sweet words slipping through her lips as his hands seem on a quest to touch every inch of her. When she tenses and a rush goes through her she’d only felt from her own fingers before, Bran pushes himself up to rest his arms around her hips and kiss her through it, before he stills, groans, and finds his own release.

As she’s coming down he kisses her cheek and softly murmurs “I love you,” in her ear. She shudders.

After some unmeasurable time, during which Meera’s breath still won’t seem to return to her completely, Bran quietly says,

“We can’t take that back.”

With the sweat cooling on her skin, Meera suddenly feels incredibly vulnerable, and feels her words catch in her throat on their way out.

“Would you want to?” she asks timidly.

Bran rolls onto his side to look at her. He reaches a hand up to brush a bit of her hair behind her ear.

“Not even a little.”

Meera laughs, and kisses him again. He throws and arm around here, and she pauses when he shifts and winces.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is your hip okay?”

Bran nods,

“It does that sometimes, just completely locks up, and then is stiff as hell for a few days. I’ll go down to the hot springs tomorrow morning, and maybe I won’t have to spend the rest of the day walking funny.”

“I think that’s supposed to be my line.”

Bran uses the arm he has around her shoulder to pull her closer, though he looks abashed.

“I should have asked, are you okay?”

She laughs, and pulls him closer,

“I’m better than okay.”

They don’t say another word after. Just they tuck themselves into each other and drift off under the furs.

When the sunlight peeks through the next morning, Bran wakes with a start to the sound of people moving about in the hallway. Meera already has her gown pulled over her heard, though only half laced, and her feet in her boots.

She crawls back on the bed, and touches his lips with a fingertip.

“Everyone’s probably still hungover from last night’s festivities. I’ll sneak out the window.”

There’s a thickness in the air between them when she lingers. She surges forward to embrace him tightly before leaving and Bran fights the urge to cling to her.

Bran’s chamber is on the ground floor thankfully, but instead of the fresh powder Meera expects when she drops from the window, she lands instead on something soft.

She lets out a surprised “oof,” and stumbles, but the small shock is eased when she realizes it’s just Summer, sleeping in his usual spot under the window.

He raises his head to look at her, and Meera reaches out to pet his muzzle.

“Don’t blow my cover okay boy?”

She turns and scampers off, light on her feet.

She doesn’t even notice that the sky is a far darker gray than usual.

[jackoshadows]

I read something rather hilarious today and it made me realize that the fundamental issue for a lot of A Song of Ice and Fire fans is that they are not sure what they want Sansa to be. 

Sansa stans proclaim her as being the most intelligent character in the series but then get angry when readers criticize her actions because she is just a naïve, innocent little girl who does not know any better. Any criticism of Sansa in the first book is mainly because Arya and Jon are biased against her due to jealousy and is not in anyway indicative of who Sansa really is. She has no flaws and is perfect as is at the start but also she is a great character because she has tremendous character growth over 5 books and learns and changes so much.

I recall an Arya post I made once about Arya’s traditionally feminine characteristics and mentioned a book canon fact that Arya was better than Sansa at managing a household. This immediately got me a triggered Sansa stan in the comments who claimed that I – and Arya - was wrong about this and that Sansa was the expert in household management since that was her forte. Despite me and several others pointing out that Arya’s extroverted nature and friendliness with the Winterfell working staff meant that she could manage them better, we were accused of ‘demonizing’ Sansa for implying that Sansa did not enjoy interacting with the smallfolk.

This is how the Sansa stan metas about how Arya would have never survived KL came about – from a need for Sansa to excel in an area where Arya could not. So despite Arya having survived Harrenhal by keeping silent and enduring abuse and despite Sansa impulsively trying to push Joffrey off a bridge (only prevented by the Hound), we were constantly told that Arya would have been killed off in KL while Sansa survived using her wits and ladylike demeanor. This school of thought was so widespread that it actually made it’s way into the TV show – a prime example of how Sophie Turner and D&D were basing Sansa off Sansa stan metas on the internet instead of the actual books that GRRM wrote.

Let’s take the most prominent example of this clash of viewpoints regarding Sansa – her being the smartest character in the books. Something that the TV show audience was hit over the head with using a huge hammer and we got basically any character introduced on the show literally looking at the camera and telling us – ‘Sansa is the smartest’

Right at the start of book one Robb, Jon and Arya view Joffrey as a vain, pretentious ‘little shit’ from observing his behavior. Sansa is the lone exception who thinks highly of him. Even after watching Joffrey sadistically mutilate Mycah and attempt to injure/kill Arya, Sansa sides with him over her family. We are told by Sansa stans that a) she is just a naïve, innocent girl and b) she is cleverly siding with her future in laws and also trying to protect Arya from her stupidity of sticking up for a low class butcher’s boy.

Sansa tattling all of Ned’s plans to Cersei is also blamed on Ned rather than the person who actively made the decision to betray her father just so she could marry Joffrey and become queen. Let’s see what Sansa knows at this point -  Cersei Lannister ordered that Sansa’s pet direwolf Lady be put to death for something that she played no part in. Jaime Lannister has killed Stark men and run off. Ned tells her the following:

Father’s mouth twitched strangely. “Sansa, I’m not sending you away for fighting, though the gods know I’m sick of you two squabbling. I want you back in Winterfell for your own safety. Three of my men were cut down like dogs not a league from where we sit, and what does Robert do? He goes hunting.”

 “Sweet one,” her father said gently, “listen to me. When you’re old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who’s worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me.”

 To the girls he said, “I am looking for a fast trading galley to take you home. These days, the sea is safer than the kingsroad. You will sail as soon as I can find a proper ship, with Septa Mordane and a complement of guards... and yes, with Syrio Forel, if he agrees to enter my service. But say nothing of this. It’s better if no one knows of our plans. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

Ned let’s Sansa know that it’s dangerous in KL for both girls, that he was sending them home for their safety and to not let anyone know about their plans. What more should Ned explain to his 11 year old daughter to get her to comply? Should he explain to her the complicated politics of KL before she deigns to obey him? Should she have the basic intelligence to acknowledge that her older, wiser father knows better than her about these things and follow his orders? Or should she go tattle to Cersei despite knowing what the Lannisters have already done against her family?

Oh, but Sansa is just a naïve, innocent little girl. But Sansa is also so intelligent.

When Ned loses his head at the end of book one, Sansa finally realizes that the Lannisters are not the good guys – something that the rest of her siblings figured out in like the second chapter of the books. And Sansa stans are like – wow, Sansa is so smart now! She’s like the smartest Stark. Sansa then proceeds to trust the Tyrells  - because they are good looking and charming and charismatic - while they play her to get power over the Lannisters. But she’s so smart! Sansa then trusts Dontos who is LF’s tool. But she’s so smart! Dany and Jon are so stupid as leaders – look at all their mistakes. But Sansa ­- she thought that one time about how she was going to make the people love her when she becomes queen – surely the best ruler/queen in the books!!

But this is all in the previous 3 books. Let’s look at the most recent Sansa in the Vale. Any growth? Which brings me to the hilarious post I read today and Sansa’s conversation with Maester Coleman.

Maester Coleman clearly tells Sansa that these high doses of Sweetsleep is dangerous for SweetRobin in the long term . No ifs, buts or maybes about it. And it’s clear that Sansa knows this considering it’s right there in the text – “Maester Coleman cares only for the boy though. Father and I have larger concerns” . While Coleman is talking to her about his worry for SR’s health, Sansa is pondering over how much she likes to dance and whether she should give it a try as Alayne. And when Coleman, once again hesitates at the end, Sansa basically threatens him with LF –  take it up with the scary boss man. Nowhere in the text does she herself evince any concern for SR’s health or express doubts about the effects of sweetsleep on SR.

But we are once again informed by asoiaf experts/Sansa stans that Sansa is just a naïve, innocent 13 year old and like they did with Ned, blame Maester Coleman for not explaining it to her in more detail. Sansa does not have google or Wikipedia you guys! – how can she know that Maester Coleman is right? It’s not like his qualifications as Maester is relevant or anything.

I mean, Jon Snow at the wall – the character who is often mocked for being stupid and knowing nothing in contrast to smart Sansa by tumblr – should not have taken any of Maester Aemon’s advice without looking up what ‘kill the boy and let the man be born’ on Wikipedia and only then follow that advice. It’s not like Maesters have trained and learned about these things at the Citadel or anything.

So we are back to excusing Sansa’s actions because she is the innocent, naïve, little 13 year old who is not aware of sweetsleep being dangerous for SweetRobin and it is all the Maester’s fault because he did not explain it to her properly and Sansa should not just take a physician’s word at face value without checking up on it with Wikipedia first and that’s not available to her.

Oh, but also Sansa is super smart now. Smartest Stark, best ruler, most compassionate and maternal etc.

This is basically the dichotomy that we are going to continue to see from Sansa stans as Sansa starts to become more LF like in the books – she is after all currently learning from him, following his orders and thinking that he knows best about all things – even where SweetRobin is concerned.

And Sansa fans want her to be the expert player of the games – from pawn to player – is how they see her endgame. But the expert players of the game – Littlefinger, Varys – are not good people. They betray, backstab, employ treachery, destroy families. If Sansa wants to join their ranks and play the game, then she is going to have to get her hands dirty and do some not so nice things.

And that is not going match up with the Sansa stan viewpoint that Sansa is essentially a very good person who only does bad things because older, wiser people don’t explain things properly enough to nice, innocent naïve little Sansa. It’s going to be fun seeing all the mental gymnastics they do as they try to justify Sansa’s actions as being both super smart and also because she is naïve and innocent. Sansa does not know, she does not have Wikipedia is already one of the most hilarious excuses I have read today. 

And this is why show Sansa was such a mess and there was such a huge dissonance between what we are told by the cast/crew about the character and what is shown on the screen. We are told that she is a compassionate, non-ambitious, non-power hungry character – and yet she is written as LF 2.0. We are told that she is the smartest ever while all the time she is written as being an utter moron deliberately sabotaging her brother when he is trying to save the North from an apocalyptic threat. We are told that she is a super politician/diplomat while she is written as a spoiled child brat needlessly antagonizing a much needed ally. We are told that she loves her family (Lone wolf dies etc.)  but she is written as betraying them for power.

Sansa fans – like D&D and Sophie Turner for ex. – have an image of her which is contradicted by the writing but they are unable to reconcile these halves and so we end up with nonsensical, garbage characters like show Sansa and hilarious justifications of her actions on the internet from her fans. 

[fortunatelylori]

When Jon and Sansa think about each other

Book dabbles

 I debated a lot before writing this because to be honest I’m no book expert and also the topic of Jon and Sansa thinking about each other in the A Song of Ice and Fire series has been covered so extensively in our corner of the fandom and by some truly fantastic meta writers.

But some thoughts did occur to me and I thought I might as well share them … :)

The main thing that has always struck me about Jon and Sansa’s thoughts on each other is not only just how rarely they occur. In Jon’s case, in particular, it’s quite strange to say the least because he doesn’t think about her even in moments where it’s practically impossible for him not to even spare her a thought.

However, sparse as they are, what I find truly moving about their thoughts about one another is that they concern two important aspects.

In Jon’s case, his thoughts on Sansa are centered around her romanticism, her wonderment at beauty and her love of songs.

He thought of Sansa, brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself

This is a particularly idyllic memory he’s picked there. Almost intimate I dare say. This is speculation, of course, but it does conjure up that image of watching someone you admire from afar, so to speak.

Sansa would call this an enchantment, and tears would fill her eyes at the wonder of it

This is one of my favorite quotes from the books because it feels so true to Sansa’s character and her desire to see the best in the world, to be filled with wonder at it and be moved to tears by beauty. The fact that, for some reason, Jon knows this about her always manages to surprise me.

There’s also a pretty stark contrast between his imaginings on Sansa’s reactions and Arya’s reactions.

“Sansa’s eyes filled with tears at the wonder of it” is very much an image he will be struck by later on when he meets Ygritte whom he starts falling for partly because she would cry when she talked about giants or sang songs.

Of Arya, he says this:

but Arya would run out laughing and shouting, wanting to touch it all

Clearly this is not the kind of reaction Jon is having at the moment. He’s pensive and blown away by the view (“there was magic beyond the wall after all”). His reaction is much closer to his imagined Sansa than his imagined Arya who, here, is placed in the role of the noisy, cheerful child, who is running around happily while the two “adults” look on.

But what is the most interesting thing about these quotes is that Jon, out of all the Stark children, is the only one to think of those characteristics of Sansa in a positive way. Bran also makes mention of Sansa’s love for songs but he calls the songs she likes “stupid”. Arya thinks most of what Sansa does and says is stupid. And we never get access to Robb’s thoughts but he doesn’t appear to spare Sansa much thought at all. Jon alone seems to be the one to value these aspects of Sansa that are so integral to her character.

Also noteworthy that while in the beginning Jon’s thoughts on Arya and Sansa are conflagrated:

He missed the girls too, even Sansa, who never called him anything but “my half brother” since she was old enough to understand what bastard meant.

The girls do not even have that much, he thought. Their wolves might have kept them safe, but Lady is dead and Nymeria’s lost, they’re all alone.

As the story progresses, his thoughts on the two split more and more and are often given in contrast to one another, as Jon begins to reflect on the two as individuals instead of “the girls”. This is far more important for Sansa than it is for Arya since Jon and Arya’s relationship is much more prominent in Jon’s thoughts so far, in the story.

The other important aspect here is that just as Jon begins to reveal his appreciation of Sansa’s romanticism, her qualities as a lady and her love for songs, Sansa is slowly beginning to lose those things. First she loses Lady, a loss Jon comprehends on a level that even Ned ignores. She also begins to say things like:

I thought my song was beginning that day. But it was almost done.

There were no heroes. In real life, monsters always win.

There is even a contrasting image of what Jon conjured up on the Wall, when Sansa enters the gardens of the Eeryie. But while she is struck by the beauty of it all just like Jon imagined, she also thinks this:

A pure world. I do not belong here.

This is often taken as Sansa saying that her place was in Winterfell but I also think this is Sansa internalizing her abuse to such a degree that she no longer feels worthy or “pure”. *cue me ugly crying here*

In order for her to regain those aspects of herself that abuse and isolation have stripped away from her, she’s going to need someone who knew just how important those characteristics were as well as have a true appreciation for them. Need I say more …

In Sansa’s case, the most moving aspect of her thoughts on Jon is that she considers things that others don’t, for whatever reason. All the Stark children think fondly on Jon when they think of him but Sansa finds herself wondering about his actual, current situation. 

This quote here in particular is immensely interesting:

If this was what the Night's Watch was truly like, she felt sorry for her bastard half brother, Jon.

Faced with the reality of what the Night’s Watch actually is, instead of the brave and heroic Black Knights she was lead to believe protected the realm from unknown “invaders”, Sansa feels sorry for Jon. The reason why this is so moving to me is because it encapsulates Jon’s entire Night’s Watch drama. He goes to the wall thinking he’s going to join this illustrious and respectable Brotherhood of honorable Knights only to be faced with the reality of a group of thieves and rapists or simple, poor boys forced to go to a place where they’ll likely starve, freeze to death or be murdered because they had no other choice. Talk about a rude awakening! And Sansa of all people is the one that acknowledges this and empathizes with Jon’s plight.

And then there’s the famous:

She had not thought of Jon in ages. He was only her half brother, but still . . . with Robb and Bran and Rickon dead, Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again.

This is quite the leap Sansa made from this:

It would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard, like their half brother Jon. She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. And Jon's mother had been common, or so people whispered.

Every anti-Sansa commentary circles back to her derision of Jon as a bastard. And you can clearly see in the second quote just how low an opinion she had of the position to begin with. She even thinks Jon’s mother must have been common, because how else would he have ended up a bastard? Also Arya’s attitude disturbs her to such a degree that she thinks it would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard as well.

But easier how? I think the answer is that if Arya had been a bastard, Sansa would have been able to find a more suitable place for her in her world view. She’s been trained to think that bastards by nature are lacking in some way, are less suitable for respectable society than legally born children and because Arya’s behavior is so out of the spectrum of what she’s been led to believe is “normal”, bastardhood would have offered an explanation.

And so I must ask, is it a coincidence that Sansa finds herself in the position of becoming a bastard herself? Of suffering people’s suspicions of her nature, their insults and humiliations? Is it GRRM punishing her for the thoughts that her society put in her head since she was old enough to speak? Or is it perhaps a way for her to understand Jon’s situation and his frustrations in a way that she could never do before? Is it likely she’ll think the same of him, after her own experiences? And after conveniently spending part of her Eeryie arc around two other bastards?

There’s already a marked difference between the Alayne quote and the Night’s Watch quote in terms of how she refers to him. In the Night’s watch quote she calls him “her bastard half brother” which feels like overkill, like she has to clearly state his exact position to keep it straight in her head, lest she slip and think of him in a more affectionate way. In the Alayne quote she abandons the “bastard” before “half brother” all together and then brings it up as a way for her to breach the divide she most assuredly knows is there.

It would be easy to imagine Sansa saying to Jon: “I was a bastard just like you. I understand now.” in order to try and forge a relationship with him, once they’re reunited.

On love:

These quotes are obviously not Jon and Sansa thinking about each other but I do think there’s something interesting about how they connect.

When Sansa is dealing with the Tyrells and thinking about a possible marriage to Willas Tyrell, this is the image that she comes up with of her married life:

She pictured the two of them sitting together in a garden with puppies in their laps, or listening to a singer strum upon a lute while they floated down the Mander on a pleasure barge.

On the other hand, Jon has started a relationship with Ygritte, he just had sex for the first time and is a very young man. This is the time he should probably work on perfecting his first imagined porno flick. However, this is what he thinks about:

If I could show her Winterfell…give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us.  

Both of these quotes have very little to do with their respective partners. Sansa has never met Willas. He might be allergic to puppies for all she knows. On the other hand, Jon knows that him doing any of the things he wants to do with Ygritte would be impossible because she’s not the type of woman to be gifted flowers, be dined in the Great Hall or appreciate the stone kings that are probably responsible for keeping her people beyond the wall for centuries.

However, looking at both those quotes, what stands out is just how similar they are. Both Jon and Sansa conjure images of domestic bliss, filled with romance and tranquility. Also, for some strange reason, both Jon and Sansa think of being with their respective partners in water … Granted, Sansa also wants puppies and she doesn’t think about making love beneath the stars but she’s a sheltered and very young girl who thinks kissing is about the most risqué thing you can do.

You can kind of see just how easily both their fantasies could fit together in a way that wouldn’t rob one or the other of what they want.

Lastly, I’ll leave you with this:

If I could show her Winterfell…give her a flower from the glass gardens …

One of the main reasons why Sansa became romantically interested in Loras Tyrell was because he gifted her a rose at the joust. Jon wants to woo his lady love with flowers from the glass gardens. I say they should just skip the middle man. Also, Jon should get a hold of some puppies to seal the deal … And maybe some kittens too … It’s important to be original, after all.

*gifs do not belong to me!