ofthewhitehands

[ofthewhitehands]

             “I was with her when she died,” Ned reminded the king. “She wanted to come home, to rest beside Brandon and Father.” He could hear her still at times. Promise me, she had cried, in a room that smelled of blood and roses. Promise me, Ned. The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister’s eyes. Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black. After that he remembered nothing.  //  Penned by Darks.

[ofthewhitehands]

<3 for a starter!

[ofthewhitehands]

“Lyanna had only been sixteen, a child-woman of surpassing loveliness. Ned had loved her with all his heart. Robert had loved her even more. She was to have been his bride.”

- George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

[ofthewhitehands]

Olivia Hussey as Juliet Capulet in Romeo & Juliet (1968) dir. Franco Zeffirelli

[ofthewhitehands]

[ofthewhitehands]

1.05 | 7.01

[ofthewhitehands]

I haven’t given you permission to leave. 

[ofthewhitehands]

She speaks and it sounds like Rhaegar's stories. They were folktales, nothing more. They were as all oral traditions were-- warnings so not to repeat the faults of those who came before.

He'd liked her stories as well.

Rhaegar had long since been put in the ground and all that was left of the dynasty he'd been part of was staring at her now speaking of realities she could scarcely comprehend.

"There have been those who have said the same before you. They did try, but they did not fail. " she said, looking at the indigo of this girl child's eyes, " they tried and died."

♛ ⊱ @ofthewhitehands ⊱ s.c.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ MY  FEARS  WERE  BURNED  AWAY  the  day  I  came  forth  from  the  fire.  ❞  She  has  seen  the  icey  eyes  of  the  waking  dead  in  her  dreams  and  visions.  A  shiver  they  may  bring,  but  the  fear  will  not  dissuade  her.  The  North  has  her  alliance,  and  the  solemn  oath  of  protection  that  comes  with  it.  ❝ Whatever  may  come,  I  will  face  my  enemies,  and  I  will  not  falter.  These  kingdoms  will  have  peace.  ❞

[ofthewhitehands]

↖️ This blog misses Ned & Robb Stark.

[ofthewhitehands]

@impercre ( PAUL) <3'd

"I'm only here because of my brother Brandon." She pointed across the hall, pointing out her brother. " he's marrying Catelyn. Or will be, once things are sorted."

She'd never left Wintefell before and was rather dazzled by all the commotion and the goings on of what she perceived as a strange place.

"She's being very nice, I suppose. But Brandon said I don't have to do anything I don't want to-- well most anything." She looked back then, " have you been in a sept? " her voice dropped to a near whisper, " I don't know how those gods can see you in such a tomb."

[ofthewhitehands]

@impercre ( IRULAN) <3'd

She was upset to be sat among all these frilly women. She wanted to go with Ned and Brandon. Even Benjen was allowed to go. He was so little yet. The exclusion based on her gender and the forms of nobility only sullened her mood further.

Needle crafts and gentle work were for the evenings. Northern girls spent their days learning to fortify, could they at least do something as compelling as that? Instead of this? At least then she could be up and moving around. The domestic work of a household was not as simple as this. What she was resigned to made it all very difficult to remain pleasant.

"I'm not familiar with those stitches." Lyanna admitted, showing off her rather (northern) traditional geometric and monochromatic work in stark contrast to the other's work," I thought it's all meant to tell a story. Fields," She pointed to the intricate squares, "rivers," She pointed to the long lines made up of hundreds of x's. "And I've made hundreds of horses and riders, but Nan says fine ladies don't stitch folk tales." She looked back at the other's work and asked, " why does yours look so different?" If she had given time to think she might have given half a thought to cultural differences.

[ofthewhitehands]

@withinycu (JAIME) <3'd

Lyanna sighed with annoyed enthusiam. Really, she didn't understand him. She bent low to pick up some snow and hurled it at her newly married husband.

"That's because of how you're acting!" She threw another snowball at him, "I told you," another snowball, "to dress," Another, "warmly!"

It was a wonderful set of circumstances that let them stay in Winterfell instead of traveling so far south to Casterly Rock. They'd have to go eventually, but whatever kind of fostering this was, she was glad to stay home.

"It's like diamonds! Surely your mountain of gold could not compare to this!" Her arms spread wide to point out how the sun glistened against each flake of falling snow.

[ofthewhitehands]

@dcviline (NED) <3'd

She'd always kept up with the boys. She'd use sticks in the godswood instead of the boy's practice swords and had surpassed Benjen just by eavesdropping. She could out ride even Brandon a top a horse. She complained and sighed her way through lessons of the household as she wished for that same education her brothers had. It was lonely in its own way, to be set apart from them.

She didn't mind the lessons in fortifying and how to protect the home if the men were away. She just wished she could be like the old Shieldmaidens and go with them.

But in moments like these, all that bravado melted away. She was just a girl who liked pretty things and to be remembered from time to time.

" Oh!" She gasped running to greet her brother," are the flowers for me? It's not even spring." She looked at the blossoms with awe, each time so talented aback that anything could grow so beautifully as a simple bloom.

[ofthewhitehands]

𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔦𝔩𝔰 // 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬. a selective  + mutuals exclusive /  private roleplaying blog for canon & original  muses in the world of asoiaf. drawing heavily from book lore with show inspiration, asoiaf era crossovers + other original characters are always welcome and encouraged ! mature  themes present. please read guidelines before interacting. minors & personals  dni. 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝  𝐛𝐲  𝐬𝐤𝐲𝐞 ...  she / they, 29.

[ofthewhitehands]

so I got deer steaks out of the freezer at 10 PM last night and meant to out them in the fridge at 11:30 when i went to bed, but my husband found them at 8 am this morning, still cold and put them away for me.

it doesn't bother me, they were still vac-sealed, and that's roughly the same amount of time it would have taken anyway if it got them back out when i came back from my bike ride this morning ( would have been defrosted in like two if i put the vac seal bag in water but whatever)

hubband proceeds to discuss the condition of deer steaks and if they are safe to eat and says " oh no now they have to be well done because they sat out."

my guy, my lover, there was never any world in which you were going to eat a wild animal in any kind of RARE.

HE WAS SHOT IN THE WOODS. HE'S GONNA BE WELL DONE.

[ofthewhitehands]

Even before he bent his knee to the floor, she knew. She did not know the details of the rebellion beyond what information had been presented upon Ned's arrival, yet the whole world had shifted.

She longed for home. She knew the moment she became pregnant that she could never go back there. She did dream of it, though. She thought how Brandon would rage against this. She thought of the face her father would make when he heard of this.

She looked at the prince with a pragmatic expression. There was only one answer. Love had been sweet, but it did not change the nature of their lives.

" my family goes home." She said, " they would not act treasonous if I was not here. Ned is here, and I want him pardoned. He was coming for me."

There were other things she should ask for, other promises and insurances in the wake of it all, yet she could not think of them. Her gaze went to her son. She was a fool, but she wanted to keep him. What did it matter if the rest of the world was falling all around them?

What would the Martells think if he came home with a new bride and son so fresh off of the deaths of his own children? If the children were gone, then what of Elia? Would not a fate follow her as well?

There was no leaving now, not after all that this had grown into. Not after months in the tower and especially not with how her heart only wished for the simply joys of maidenhood and the sweet love that came with it.

Still, was not a son what he wanted? He could never leave her as she had said, yet he could. Yet he decided to stay. Was that not love enough?

"I want to speak with Ned on this." She said softly but gave the only answer that was possible, however bittersweet. "Yes. I'll marry you."

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄 closed his eyes and did not see the field of corpses he’d walked away from. No moment of quiet to be had when the clash of swords and the agonized screams of men ENDLESSLY reverberated in his ears. Rhaegar was not in the Keep and yet the deaths of his family HAUNTED him above that of the BLOODSHED he took part in. Mayhaps that is why he did not return to King’s Landing following that shallow victory at the Trident. Mayhaps cowardice steered him towards the one who has brought him such JOY in the past moons instead.   

❝ Mayhaps, ❞ the dragon prince utters in response to both his innermost thoughts and her distant words. It was difficult to unravel one from the other for the two sound the same—The perpetually gnawing GUILT seeming to adopt Lyanna’s voice for an instant. Does she blame him as much as the man already blames himself? TRAGEDY has visited many in the Seven Kingdoms and more still are to follow, he knows.  

It is the matter of their son’s name and the undisguised accusation that momentarily silences the TURMOIL, serving to sharpen his mind into the future. ❝ Not for long. He is my only child. ❞ Sorrow coats the truth of those words, but it does not dampen the warmth of that fondness in the father’s indigo gaze. There is a deeper significance that the Targaryen gives not voice to yet, for other things need be accomplished before such PLANS may be pursued. Instead, the Targaryen listens attentively to the Stark’s tale after seeking her own suggestion for a name. ❝ The first to fly… ❞ A foreign heaviness settles in his heart for a fleeting instant, only for it to be lifted with a renewed purpose—One kin to that of reignited FAITH. ❝ His name is Jon. ❞ Rhaegar states, touching a finger to that of the babe’s small hand. ❝ I will do what I must for you, my son. ❞ And what that entails threatens to break that heart in two, because he knows how much Lyanna loves her home. A she-wolf of Winterfell, she is; and it is there that she belongs. But their child is also a DRAGON and his destiny is greater than both of them, and what he is about to ask might just keep her from returning. 

❝ I need you with me. ❞ The Prince of Dragonstone confesses at last, looking to the woman’s eyes in a VULNERABILITY that seldom have others seen. ❝ There is much I am to do and doubts plague me as to how I shall act, but not on this. Not on you. ❞ Releasing a breath, the silver haired man shifts and lowers to kneel in front of her, with a hand perched tenderly upon her knee. ❝ If you would have me, I would take you as wife, Lyanna. ❞

[ofthewhitehands]

@zoklaanogar

Sometimes it was little Arya who coaxed her Aunt out of some old melancholy. Aunt Lyanna could use a sword as well as a needle. It wouldn't be long till Sansa was following up behind, prattling and ladylike tattling about stitchwork and lessons that Arya had skipped.

The direction would change, Lyanna would take their hands in hers and move about her home to where she knew a warm hearth would be as the sun set and somehow the noise of their voices would summon Bran who would ask after old stories that Old Nan simply wouldn't tell anymore.

Lyanna found them hard to tell, too. Brandon had loved them and Brandon was gone.

So the girls sat with their needles and Bran took residence on the floor. Lyanna was sure Robb would find his way in, too, before they all would be appropriately scattered to more appropriate evening activities.

" Garth the Green walked the land long before your stranger." Lyanna began as she turned back to Sansa, who already was asking questions about old heroes. "He would not be remembered as a hero if he hadn't had the help of Jon Who Climbs The Wall. He trapped Death in a sack for dear Garth." Lyanna continued knowingly, as Bran asked how that was possible. It was Robb who shushed him, having found his way in, stating that their Aunt would tell them if only he listened.

" But back then the Gods had eyes that could see farther than their roots could stretch. Some, I've heard tell, say they even saw into the sea." Lyanna bent to help Arya untangle her thread from her work. and carefully took the freed needle back out of its resting place as she continued to sew grey stitches into her work.

"In those days, the Gods eyes saw many things, even strange and wonderous things, Death among them. You see, Death had no eyes, but thousands of hands. On his back sat the moon and his armor was made of stars. Death is a curious being, because he cannot see. Death's touch is very cold. Colder than the longest night."

"Garth the Green had one wife and had two sons. They were very happy, you see, for they were blessed to live in the godswood and were friends of the children. To befriend the children is a very lucky thing. And this particular godswood was a very sacred place. It was always winter's solstice, and it was always bright noon sun shining through the trees."

Lyanna paused in her work to remind Arya to keep working on hers ( she wouldn't want her septa after her, now would she --or worse-- old Nan) before looking up to see another at her door,

"Come in, Jon, we've only just started." She was always glad to see her boy, even if she could never openly admit that he was hers.