#/velvet bolton

[the-red-mafia]

The End?

Velvet and Maroon make their way towards Unor, the rest of the mafia staying behind to fight the guards. Will they be able to overpower him and escape, or...?

Also available on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/TheRedMafia

Next Update: [Redacted] Word Count: 4524

Immediately after “The Strike”

Maroon attempted to stay as quiet as Velvet was as they crawled through the vent, but that was nearly impossible. She eventually stopped and turned to look at them.

“We’re right above the room, but there’s a drop. I’m gonna go down first, so wait for my signal.” 

“Wait? But-” 

“So I can catch you and make sure you don’t make noise,” Velvet clarified. The younger teen’s mouth formed an ‘o’ before they nodded. Velvet disappeared over the edge. Maroon listened for the sound of her hitting the lower level, but it never came. They crawled to the edge and glanced over. 

That’s when the explosion went off. 

Maroon quickly closed their eyes as the vent below them gave out and a wave of heat hit their face. Their back hit something hard, knocking the wind out of them. Maroon quickly attempted to catch their breath, panic rising in their chest. Coughing came from the other side of the room followed by the chilling laugh of Unor Bolton. 

“I would think you would be better at your job than that, fīlia,” he muttered. The smoke and debris began to settle, revealing the man still sitting in his chair. He was turned to his left, away from Maroon. A cough echoed off the walls. 

Velvet. 

Maroon took a deep breath and struggled to their feet. Air slowly filled their lungs as they raised their hands. A mushroom grew off the chair, knocking Unor to the ground. They jumped over the table and kneeled at Velvet’s side. She had a large scrape on her forehead that bled onto her hand. She coughed again but summoned Kil-layye Mo’ore. 

“Maroon, I didn’t see you there!” The younger teen redirected their attention to Unor, who was on his feet again. Velvet threw their sword at him, which he knocked to the ground. Maroon surrounded him with mushrooms that stretched to the ceiling. The man looked between the two teenagers, Velvet grabbing her sword again. 

“Quite a…rash plan you had, Velvet,” he began, “To plan an attack on my home- our home! I’d almost be impressed if you hadn’t executed it so horribly.” 

“How did you know?” Velvet demanded. Unor broke one of the mushrooms, but it quickly grew back. 

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he said with a wink. Velvet glared at him and raised their sword. 

“Then we’re done here.” She charged forward, but Kil-layye Mo’ore hit empty air. Unor broke through two more mushrooms and backflipped out of the enclosure. His hands glowed a dark black before a handgun appeared in each. He fired a shot at each teen, which they both dodged. Maroon attempted to trap him again but he lunged towards Velvet instead. 

Velvet sliced at his arm before jumping to the right. Unor stayed on the offensive and fired another shot at her. It grazed her left shoulder but Velvet quickly stabbed at him again. The metal embedded itself in his lower abdomen, forcing him to stagger back. 

“Fuck-” she muttered. Maroon grew a mushroom to knock one gun out of Unor’s hand, but it just disappeared in a black cloud. Unor raised the other one and fired a shot straight at Velvet’s chest. Maroon quickly kicked him to the ground, forcing several mushrooms to grow through his hands. He let out a shout but Maroon quickly turned to Velvet. The teen must’ve hit the wall and fallen down but was now getting back to her feet. Unor stared at her as she summoned Kil-layye Mo’ore and walked towards him.

“Crazy what armour will do,” they said through gritted teeth. Unor frowned.

“Armour? I didn’t know you turned into a coward, Velvet.” The assassin kicked him in the stomach, causing the man to let out a grunt. They followed it up by stabbing him in the stomach with their sword. Unor flinched for a moment before coughing. 

“So that’s your big plan? Kill me?”

“I feel like that was obvious,” Maroon mumbled. Velvet pulled her sword out and sheathed it. Maroon’s eyes widened.

“Velvet-”

“I’m not letting him go, don’t worry. Just give me a second.” They reached towards their utility belt but Unor’s foot hit Maroon directly in the head. They fell to the ground but Velvet caught them before their head got hit again. She set them down gently before digging her heel into Unor’s open wound. The man attempted to kick at them but they pushed his feet away. 

Maroon’s head pounded as they sat up.

“Maroon, you okay?” Velvet asked, taking their gun out of its holster. 

“F-fine.” Unor locked eyes with Maroon, sending a chill down their spine. 

“Are you sure about that?” He asked. His voice was darker, the words seemingly twisting themselves around Maroon’s mind. He continued speaking, but Maroon couldn’t tell what the words were. Their breath became shallower and their heartbeat sped up. 

Attack 

Mushrooms exploded around the room, sending Velvet down to the floor again. Unor laughed. 

What’s happening? What am I- 

Maroon looked around for Velvet. She was getting back to her feet again, this time with mushrooms clinging to her mission uniform. 

“Maroon!” They shouted, “Snap out of it!” 

“Velvet, I got the camera working again. What’s happening-” Maroon reached up and ripped their comms out of their ear. They threw it on the ground and staggered forward, hands still raised. Velvet moved in front of them. Maroon’s vision blurred but they felt her grab their hand. The mushrooms began spreading but Velvet kept a firm grip. 

“Maroon, listen to me-”

“There’s no point, dēvōtiō,” Unor shouted, “They can’t hear you!” Velvet glared at him. 

“What did you do to them?”

“Just a little magic,” he said with a smirk. Velvet turned back to Maroon. 

“Maroon, I need you to take a breath and calm down. Stick to the plan-”

“Knock her out, Maroon!” Unor called out. Velvet tensed up but didn’t let go of them. 

What…Velvet-

“Maroon…” they mumbled. The younger teen took a deep breath, causing the mushrooms to recede from Velvet’s hand. Several more surrounded Unor and pinned him to the floor. He attempted to squirm out of them with little success. 

“Maroon, free me this instant!” He demanded. Their vision slightly cleared as they carefully shook their head. Velvet kept a tight grip on their hand as she raised her gun.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he taunted. Velvet narrowed her eyes. 

“Try me.”

“You’ll die. If you kill me, half your soul will die. The other half will follow and you’ll cease to exist.” Maroon’s eyes widened.

“That’s…no-” the younger teen tried, but the fuzziness in their head stopped them. Unor smirked.

“It is. If you kill me, Velvet will die.”

“I don’t care.” Maroon’s vision blurred again as they turned to look at their friend. 

What? Velvet walked forward, finally letting go of Maroon’s hand. She pressed the gun to Unor’s head.

“Did you not hear me?” he breathed. Velvet glared at him. 

“If you’re dead, I don’t care if I’m alive. What matters is stopping you.”

Velvet took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. Maroon watched the bright red liquid pour out of Unor’s head before their vision blurred to the point they could barely see. They could hear Velvet’s quiet breathing and footsteps as they walked back over to them. She took their hand again.

“We did it,” she muttered, “He’s dead.” Maroon took a deep breath and let out a small laugh. 

“We did, didn’t we?” Velvet immediately tensed up next to them, causing Maroon to turn to their left. They could barely make out their bright red hair and familiar brown eyes.

“What the fuck is that?” they breathed. Maroon frowned.

“What-” Before they could finish their sentence, a gust of wind hit their face and their vision went black. 

Solana blocked a guard’s attack with the pole of his spear before stabbing him in the chest. A vine wrapped around the guard and threw him out of the already-broken window. Solana attempted to catch her breath as she glanced at Thorn, who was also panting.

“I think,” it breathed, “That’s all of them.” 

“Don’t-” The wall to their right shattered, allowing another squad of B.A.D. agents to come running in. They shouted and pointed at the two mafia members.

“Jinx us,” Solana finished. The elf raised her spear. 

“How does he have so many guards?” Thorn groaned. 

“Money.”

“I wish Zaeor paid us. Maybe then I wouldn’t hate him as much as I do.” Solana raised an eyebrow and blocked a gunshot from one of the guards. 

“Not a Zaeor fan, huh?” 

“Is anyone?” Thorn jumped forward and wrapped several guards in vines before sending them out the window. Solana charged as well, spear slicing through a few arms.

“Velvet is.”

“Velvet doesn’t count.”

“And I don’t really mind him, you know?” Solana stated, “He’s a bit, I don’t know, odd? But he’s got good intentions.” 

“I guess.” Their conversation was cut short by a guard, who ran forward and managed to stab Thorn in the shoulder. The teen yelled out in pain and Solana quickly jumped to aer aid. They pushed him to the ground and quickly slit their throat.

“Thorn, you good?”

“Fine-”

“Velvet, I got the camera working again. What’s happening-” Mad’s voice cut out right as Solana felt a sharp pain erupt in her left side. Metal clattered to the ground behind her.

“Fuck-” A teen, no older than Thorn, approached. He had light brown hair and sea-blue eyes. Unlike the other guards, the only armour he seemed to be wearing was a bulletproof vest. He held several throwing knives in his two hands. Thorn quickly grew a vine wall in front of them and steadied Solana.

“Don’t let them get close to Mr. Bolton!” Someone, presumably the teen, shouted. 

“Solana, you okay?” Thorn mumbled. 

“Maroon’s powers- Unor did something to them,” Velvet’s voice came through the comms. One of the guards groaned as Thorn tensed up next to them.

“Commander, it is not safe for you-” Thorn reached up to their comms.

“Do you need me-” Another knife sliced through the wall and the side of Thorn’s cheek. 

“You may give me orders when you can deal with a teen and an elf, captain.” 

“Shit-” Solana mumbled, glancing at their teammate, “Okay, Thorn, you take out that kid. I’ll keep the others off your ass.” 

“Got it.” He jumped around the corner of the wall and attempted to trap him. Solana went around the other side, pulling out their pistol. She fired shots at the remaining guards, drawing their attention.

“Velvet-” Mad paused. 

“What’s going on, Mad?” Solana asked, hitting a guard right in the nose. They glanced at Thorn. It narrowly avoided an airborne knife from the other teen.

“The camera’s out and Maroon’s unconscious. Velvet, are you there?” Thorn’s eyes widened and ae turned to Solana. The commander swung a punch at Thorn, knocking him to the ground. 

“Shit-” she muttered. Solana fired a shot at the teen but they dodged it. Thorn jumped back to its feet and kicked them in the stomach. 

“Solana, Thorn, can you clear me a path to the vent? I’m going in.” Solana turned back to the guards and continued firing. 

“We can try,” the elf mumbled, “Thorn, can you get that kid outta here?”

“I’m fucking working on it,” Thorn hissed back. A shot hit Solana’s left elbow, knocking the pistol from his hands. Another shot hit her in the stomach and bounced off her vest. Solana frantically picked up the gun before jumping behind the wall. 

“Fucking hell-” Bullets ricocheted off of the plants in front of them. Thorn fell to the ground to his right and the teen immediately jumped on him. They held the knife to aer throat as Solana lined up her shot. A laser hit the commander’s back, sending them flying over Thorn’s head. Thorn stayed on the ground for a few seconds before scrambling to their feet. 

“Mad!” they shouted. The bullets stopped hitting the wall but the sound continued. The other teen crawled towards Thorn and grabbed his ankle right as Mad made it past the vine wall. The droid continued towards the vent. Thorn attempted to kick his legs free but eventually grew vines that attached themselves to the commander’s legs. The vines pulled them to the window. The teen went flying but took Thorn with him. 

“Thorn!” Solana shouted. Mad turned around just in time to see the two teens disappear below the second-story window. 

“Fuck,” the droid muttered, “Solana, take care of the rest of the guards and then go after them.” Solana popped around the corner of the wall and unloaded another magazine at the guards. Another shot embedded itself in Solana’s right arm. The elf’s wounds screamed in pain as she hid behind the wall again. Blood dripped down from his arms, hitting the white marble floor. 

“Mad, I can’t-” they turned to the vent, but Mad was already gone. They took a deep breath.

You’ve got this, Mona. Just don’t think about the pain and- She peeked around the corner but something hit her in the back of the head. He stumbled to the ground, vision blurring. Solana fumbled with the pistol. Several guards surrounded her, one kicking her gun away. Another lifted their foot and slammed it into her skull, forcing her unconscious. 

“What the fuck is that?” Velvet breathed. She stared at Unor’s corpse, or more specifically, the glowing yellow light enveloping it. 

“What-” Maroon began to her right. The younger teen suddenly fell, hitting Velvet’s shoulder. Velvet caught them and lowered them to the ground. She kneeled next to them, glancing down to see Maroon’s unconscious face before focusing on the light once again. They moved their head to their lap, keeping their sword firmly in their left hand. She could feel her teammate’s soft breathing, their chest slowly rising and falling. 

The light grew brighter and split into five parts. Each morphed into different shapes, different people. They were vastly different in age and looks as the light solidified. In the centre was a tall woman, about 25 with long blonde hair and purple eyes. Her pink blouse was torn with a knife sticking out of her chest. She looked at Velvet with sympathy in her eyes.

The one to her left was a man, probably around Unor’s age. His blue eyes refused to meet Velvet’s. Blood dripped from his head, staining his blue hair a dark purple. He wore a B.A.D. agent uniform with three stars lined up on the sleeve.

The next one, all the way to the left, was a teen. He seemed to be older than Velvet but had pitch-black hair and bright green eyes. He had a set of Roman armour on and a large shield strapped to his left arm. A large red cut stretched along his neck.

Velvet could barely make out the other two people. One was much smaller and hid behind the woman in the centre. All the teen could see was chocolate brown eyes staring at her. The other one, a 25-or-so year old man, was facing away from them. Familiar black hair sat on his head.

“Velvet Bolton,” the woman breathed, “Hello, child.” Velvet stared at her as the ethereal glow steadied. 

“Who are you?” Velvet tried to sound intimidating, but her voice faltered. The woman walked forward, the kid staying right behind her. She stopped about a metre away and smiled warmly. 

“You wouldn’t remember me. My name is Jacqueline King.” Velvet frowned.

King? 

“You would be more familiar with my husband, Mark. I believe you worked together when you were younger?” Velvet carefully nodded. “I…knew Mark. But…aren’t you dead?” 

“I am. I- we,” she gestured to the man and teen, “are the people your father killed to steal their souls.” A chill went down Velvet’s spine. 

“W-what?”

“Don’t worry, we’re not here to harm you,” she clarified, “Your father’s actions are not your fault.” Velvet glanced back at Unor’s lifeless body. 

“So…that was his actual body?” the assassin asked. Jacqueline nodded. 

“Your mission is over, child. You did it.” Velvet’s muscles relaxed involuntarily. The woman’s voice seeped into her body, calming her despite the possible danger surrounding her.

“We have something of yours.” Velvet looked up at her as she moved to the side. She gestured for the child behind her to walk. 

“Go on, sweet one.” The girl, about 14 years old, stepped into view. A large patch of blood pooled near her abdomen, shining through her white dress. Her long black hair, chocolate brown eyes, gold moon necklace-

Me. Velvet’s eyes widened, That’s me. The girl stood in front of her.

“H-hello,” she mumbled. Velvet looked between her and Jacqueline.

“...Hi.” 

“I take it you know who she is, Velvet dear?” Jacqueline asked. Velvet stared at the girl in front of her. 

“Is this real?” she muttered. The older man stepped forward next to Jacqueline.

“As real as something involving magical souls can be,” he stated.

“Robert…”

“What? Forgive me if I’m a bit sceptical.”

“I don’t know how you could still be sceptical…” the armoured teen stated, crossing his arms. 

“That’s enough, you two-”

“Can we just finish this up?” the man facing away shouted. Robert turned to glare at the back of his head.

“I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry to go to hell, asshole.” 

“I’m in a hurry to get the hell away from you asinī,” he shot back. Jacqueline sighed and turned towards him.

“Do you have anything you want to say to your daughter, Unor? An apology, perhaps?” The 25-year-old finally turned around and met Velvet’s eyes. Pitch-black irises stared her down, sending a chill down her spine. 

“What do I have to apologise for?”

“Your actions led to what she went through.”

“Trust me, I don’t need a fucking apology from him,” Velvet hissed. The black-haired girl took a step away from them. 

“She’s scary,” she mumbled, “I don’t want to be scary.” Jacqueline put an arm around her.

“I know she may seem scary, but she’s not. She’s scared, like you. Do you see that kid lying in her lap?” 

“The one taking a nap?”

“Mhm. She’s worried about them. She thinks we might do something to hurt them. You two are not as different as you think, child. You are two halves of one whole, with different strengths, weaknesses, ideals, and morals. Now, you’re going to become one again.” Velvet’s eyes widened once again.

“What?” Jacqueline turned to them and laughed. 

“Did you think we were just going to keep the other half of your soul?”

“I-” the assassin paused, “I didn’t think it was possible.” The armoured teen, Ethan, raised an eyebrow.

“Who told you that?” 

“Well-” Jacqueline’s form flickered, the light dimming.

“I’m afraid we don’t have the time to discuss,” she said, pushing the younger Velvet forward, “Go on, little one.” She looked at Jacqueline with a fearful look in her eyes. The woman gave her one final squeeze.

“Don’t worry, my sweet dove. We will meet again. Maybe not in this life, nor the next. It may be thousands or millions of lifetimes from now, but it will happen. And when it does, I will embrace you for as long as I have waited.” A tear fell from the black-haired girl’s face as she nodded. She turned back to Velvet and held out a hand. Velvet stared at it. 

“Go on, child,” Jacqueline said to them, “You will be safe.” Velvet lifted her right hand, readjusting Maroon as well. The golden figures slowly dimmed, dust-like particles flaking off. 

“Take care of yourself, Velvet,” Jacqueline said, smiling sadly, “You are more important than you could possibly know.” Velvet grabbed the younger girl’s hand. With that, the whole world went black. 

Thorn was falling. 

The wind whooshed past his ears as he tried to kick free of the other teen’s grip. The duo hit the ground hard. Thorn gasped for air but the commander jumped on top of them again. Angry blue eyes stared down at him as cold metal pressed against his throat. Thorn took a deep breath.

“Listen, man, I don’t think you want to do this.”

“Shut up.” Thorn grew several vines that each tried to pry him off to no avail. The blade nicked Thorn’s skin but the commander moved it. The two locked eyes before the other teen threw his blade on the ground.

“You know what? I’m done.” He stood up, leaving a slightly confused Thorn on the ground.

“What?”

“I’m not helping Unor kill a kid my age. I can’t do this anymore.” The prince quickly hopped to aer feet. 

“Uh- well- I’m glad you had a change of heart?” The commander turned around and began walking towards the gate. Thorn glanced between him and the window two stories up. They heard Solana say Mad’s name before her voice suddenly stopped. 

I’ve got to get back up there. Thorn raised a hand but was hit in the stomach with a bullet. They fell to the ground and the sound of the shot seemed to catch the commander’s attention because he turned around. Thorn’s abdomen burned with pain that the 16-year-old had never felt before. It bit its tongue to keep from screaming.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were deserting, commander.” Thorn tried to move to see the voice’s source, but aer body screamed in pain. They watched the commander draw a pistol from the holster on his belt. 

“Watch your words, lieutenant.” Another shot rang out and the commander staggered back a bit as it hit him in the chest. Another hit his hand and knocked the gun to the ground. Thorn bit his tongue again and raised his left hand. A vine wall sprouted in front of the commander, who after realising, mouthed ‘thank you’. 

“What the fuck,” the voice breathed. A man’s face appeared in Thorn’s view. He scowled and raised a gun.

“This bitch is still conscious.” Faint sirens hit Thorn’s ears, and the man looked away. 

“Sir, I see UPS ships entering the atmosphere.”

“If they’re not supposed to be here, the guns will shoot ‘em down,” the man growled, turning back to Thorn, “Night night, little bitch.” A final shot rang out, hitting Thorn in the stomach. Their eyelids forcibly closed from the pain, and they quickly fell asleep. 

Mad scanned the scene in front of it, screen blank. Mushrooms took over the entire area and outlined the chair from earlier. Maroon and Velvet were unconscious on the far left of the room while Unor’s corpse was a few metres to the right, mushrooms already beginning to decompose it. Mad ran towards the two teens, joining them on the floor.

“Mad.” The droid looked up to see Zaeor standing over Unor. He was dressed in his pitch-black robe, sigils floating around him. Shadows pooled at his feet, forming a lake of darkness. Mad stared at him.

“Zaeor?” they asked, “What-” The god walked forward, almost glaring at it.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I saw Maroon and Velvet go down. I came to help.”

“Velvet’s already dead. I made sure of it.”

“What…do you mean you ‘made sure of it’?” Mad placed their hands on each of the teen’s necks. It was faint, but both still had a heartbeat. 

Shadows quickly pushed Mad, slamming it into the wall. Their screen cracked when they fell to the ground. 

“You fucking nosy droid,” he growled, “Do you know how many times I had to change my plans because of you? I have been so close to getting Velvet killed hundreds of times, but you kept getting in my fucking way.” Shadows lifted the robot up and pinned it against the wall. Mad’s mind raced as he stood in front of him. He glared, his face close to their TV. 

“I knew it,” Mad muttered, “You never gave a shit about us.”

“You? No. You proved to be the worst decision I made in my plan.” Mad attempted to struggle out of the shadowy restraints to no avail.

“What plan? Killing us all?” Zaeor laughed darkly, sending a shiver in Mad’s soul. 

“Not all. Velvet was the priority, Solana’s a nice bonus.”

“You’re not hurting Solana-”

“I don’t need to. You already did that, leaving him alone with the guards.” Mad’s soul dropped. 

No- Zaeor raised a fist and swung, hitting the left side of Mad’s TV. It recoiled as a ‘critical damage’ notification popped up. The restraints disappeared for a second, causing the droid to slam into the floor. They reformed and pinned it to the ground.

“Returning the favour,” the god mumbled. Zaeor leaned over and tilted Mad’s TV so the camera was looking at his twisted smile. 

“And now, with Velvet and you out of the way, my plan can truly begin.” Mad broke out of his grasp, causing him to laugh again.

“Oh what a glorious sight it will be. Such a shame you won’t be able to see it,” he mumbled, “Me, ruling the multiverse with the most powerful weapon by my side.” Mad looked back at him.

“Weapon?”

“Maroon, of course. I’d never let such a talent go to waste. They’ll make a perfect leader for my new army,” he laughed, “Hell, I don’t even have to cast my own mind control magic! Unor did it all for me.” Mad glanced at the younger teen, still passed out in Velvet’s lap. 

Velvet’s still alive and he doesn’t know that. I can’t let him take either of them. 

“Sure, it will take time,” Zaeor continued, “But I’ve waited 500 years, what's a few decades more? Soon, all gods in the multiverse will bow to me and I will have the power I fucking deserve.”

“You don’t deserve-” Zaeor punched it again, shattering what remained of its screen and disabling the camera. Mad sat in darkness as the god chuckled. 

“This is very therapeutic, you know? You can’t imagine how much I wanted to do this to you over the past year.”

“You’re…you’re not going to get away with this,” Mad mumbled, “Thorn-”

“Is dead. That is also partially your fault.”

“Shut up.” 

“What, Mad? Can’t take responsibility for your own actions?” Mad could feel their systems shutting down, no doubt due to the damage. 

“It’s not…my…fault.” Zaeor let out one last loud laugh.

“I didn’t realise a robot could be so delusional.” Mad heard his footsteps as he backed up. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a mansion to blow up,” he called out, “Enjoy shutting down, knowing that all of your friends' deaths are entirely your fault.” A swoosh went through the room, leaving Mad alone with their malfunctioning camera. The shadows pinning them down dissolved. It jumped to its feet, despite the warnings not to. Mad walked forward but tripped over a mushroom on the floor.

They slammed hard onto the ground, their TV detaching from their body and shattering into a billion pieces on the floor. 

A/N:  ...hi chat. fortis here. 

thats it. the books over. is there a sequel? maybe. whens it starting? who knows. youre assuming there is one. 

But in all seriousness, thank you all so much for the support on this project. I'll try not to get super sentimental but this book has been one of the best parts of my life for the past 2 years we've been working on it. While I did most of the actual writing, this would not be possible without the other writers, so shout out to them. All of our links are available below so go follow them. And stay tuned: we've got more planned for our favourite traumatised redheads. 

If you're reading this on Tumblr, congrats, hit the follow button and stay in the loop on what we're working on. I've got several oneshots, headcanons, and funny stories from the writers room I'm going to be sharing. If you're reading on Wattpad (which most of you are), go follow the Tumblr and get access to all of that stuff. You're gonna want to see it :) 

I'm also going to be working on editing earlier stuff, mainly part 1, and fixing formatting on the Wattpad. But in general, the story of this book is over. And I'm pretty happy with it, as I hope you all are. Still have questions? Shoot us an ask on the main TRM Tumblr or my personal blog and I'll see what I can do. But that's it. Signing off for the last time,

- Fortis (@iamf0rtis)

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[joribolton]

Illustration for Cottage Life (2022) about lakeside cottage owners who aren’t so fond of the rabble using “their” lake.

AD: Taylor Kristan

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[15-lizards]

What are your thoughts on Northern fashion? You mentioned in an early post that it would be different depending on the location, can you elaborate on that? I also feel like the style changed soon after Catelyn married Ned, since she would bring styles from the Riverlands and Winterfell is the King's Landing of the North when it comes to fashion

Let’s goooo 🏃🏻‍♀️

Starting in the Neck, they would definitely be more like the riverlanders in terms of clothing. It’s a fairly similar wet and muggy climate. Everything is mostly made of wool and hemp and linen. Thinner clothes for the muggy summers and warmer, thicker ones for when winter comes. Leather/animal skin shoes to keep the mud off. Also whenever I imagine the Crannogmen I imagine cloaks and hoods to stay dry in the swamps. So lots of those.

To the East and a bit father to the north, that costal area around White Harbor is colder than the Neck. So theres a lot more layers, and clothing it way thicker. Also the Manderlys are dripped tf out they got that White Harbor money. Wyman has fur lined EVERYTHING his damask coats could put Cerseis to shame. Wylla and Wynafred pull up to the Sept with lace and silk and jewels eating all the other bitches up. Also since they follow the Faith and are originally southern, this area probably follows more southern customs (fabrics, headpieces, etc)

And we finally make it to winterfell 🤸🏻‍♀️At this point everyone’s freezing their tits off, so fur lined everything. Indoors, I think they can wear lighter stuff bc of those hot springs. Even in the spring months, you can catch Cat wearing at least one shift, underdress, overdress, AND a jacket bc I feel like she never acclimated to the cold. Lots of leather and wool for everyday wear, but when Ned throws a feast or something they get to wear more fur and velvet (even Jon gets to wear a nice velvet surcoat, as a treat). Since the Starks are bordering on ascetic sometimes, there isn’t a ton of ornamentation, but Sansa likes to wear southern-ish styles as much as she can, so you can frequently find her wearing clothes from white harbor (aka I want to see Sansa in a kokoshnik)

And then even farther north we start to see Bolton and Umber territory. The conditions are even more brutal than at Winterfell and they don’t even have hot springs :/ like Sansa and Arya could probably get away with not having to cover their ears during warmer days, but the girls of last hearth and the dreadfort have no warm days. At this point clothing becomes a bit bulky and harder to move around in. Dresses are lined stiffly and almost drag the floor, and everyone is always bundled up to the neck. However materials and fabrics are cohesive and nice atp.

And by the time we nearly reach the wall, conditions are almost unbearable during the winter. Even during spring, all the villagers in the gift are wearing at least four layers (bc I hate hate hate how the show made the people at and around the wall just chill in a thin jacket when they were near a gargantuan frozen block of ice). Clothing is a lot less structured here, resources are getting sparse so most people stitch together a patchwork of whatever furs they can get their hands on. You will rarely see a person without a big hood or thick gloves on. And even though they aren’t wildlings, you can probably see a lot of animal head hoods, bc these people do NOT waste any part of the animal

[laurellerual]

ASoIaF: Arya’s change of clothes

AGOT 

Arya III: His claws raked at the front of her leather jerkin. (...) Arya whirled, felt leather catch and tear as a huge fang nipped at her jerkin, and then she was running.

Arya V: Some of them stared at her boots or her cloak (heavy woolen cloak) (...) The silver bracelet she'd hoped to sell had been stolen her first night out of the castle, along with her bundle of good clothes (a velvet skirt, a silk tunic, some smallclothes, a dress her mother had embroidered for her,  a satin gown) , snatched while she slept in a burnt-out house off Pig Alley. All they left her was the cloak she had been huddled in, the leathers on her back, her wooden practice sword … and Needle.

ACOK 

Arya VI: "That hair is a fright and a nest for lice as well. We'll have it off, and then you're for the kitchens." (...) Goodwife Harra slapped her so hard that her swollen lip broke open all over again (...) They gave her a shift of grey roughspun wool and a pair of ill-fitting shoes, and sent her off. (...) On the road Arya had felt like a sheep, but Harrenhal turned her into a mouse. She was grey as a mouse in her scratchy wool shift,

Arya X: They required dressing like a page and washing more than she liked. (...) In her cell, she stripped to the skin and dressed herself carefully, in two layers of smallclothes, warm stockings, and her cleanest tunic. It was Lord Bolton's livery. On the breast was sewn his sigil, the flayed man of the Dreadfort. She tied her shoes, threw a wool cloak over her skinny shoulders, and knotted it under her throat. 

ASOS

Arya I: She was still dressed in her page's garb, and on the breast over her heart was sewn Lord Bolton's sigil, the flayed man of the Dreadfort. (...) "Who dressed the poor child in those Bolton rags?" 

Arya IV: They insisted she dress herself in girl's things, brown woolen stockings and a light linen shift, and over that a light green gown with acorns embroidered all over the bodice in brown thread, and more acorns bordering the hem. (...) Lady Smallwood said as the women laced the gown up Arya's back. (...) one sleeve was torn on her stupid acorn dress. 

Arya IV: The dress she put her in this time was sort of lilac-colored, and decorated with little baby pearls. The only good thing about it was that it was so delicate that no one could expect her to ride in it. 

Arya IV: So the next morning as they broke their fast, Lady Smallwood gave her breeches, belt, and tunic to wear, and a brown doeskin jerkin dotted with iron studs. "They were my son's things".

Arya V: Then they stole all the clothes that Lady Smallwood had given her and dressed her up like one of Sansa's dolls in linen and lace. 

AFFC 

Arya III: In the black of night she rose again, donned the clothes she'd worn from Westeros, and buckled on her swordbelt. Needle hung from one hip, her dagger from the other. With her floppy (woolen hat patched with leather) hat on her head, her fingerless gloves tucked into her belt, and her silver fork in one hand, she went stealing up the steps. (...) She emptied her pouch into her palm; five silver stags, nine copper stars, some pennies and halfpennies and groats. She scattered them across the water. Next her boots. They made the loudest splashes. Her dagger followed, the one she'd gotten off the archer who had begged the Hound for mercy. Her swordbelt went into the canal. Her cloak, tunic, breeches, smallclothes, all of it. All but Needle.

ADWD 

The Blind Girl: The blind girl tied a strip of rag around her head to hide her useless eyes (...) The waif had shaved her head for her when they took her eyes; a mummer's cut (...)  she gave her pox scars and a mummer's mole on one cheek with a dark hair growing from it.  (...) The clothes she wore were rags, faded and fraying, but warm clean rags for all that. Under them she hid three knives—one in a boot, one up a sleeve, one sheathed at the small of her back. (...) A cracked wooden begging bowl and belt of hempen rope completed her garb.

The Ugly Little Girl: An ugly girl should dress in ugly clothing, she decided, so she chose a stained brown cloak fraying at the hem, a musty green tunic smelling of fish, and a pair of heavy boots. Last of all she palmed her finger knife.

The Ugly Little Girl: They brought a robe for her as well, the soft thick robe of an acolyte, black upon one side and white upon the other. 

TWOW

Mercy: She shaved, donned her smallclothes, and slipped a shapeless brown wool dress down over her head. One of her stockings needed mending, she saw as she pulled it up. (...) Her boots were lumps of old brown leather mottled with saltstains and cracked from long wear, her belt a length of hempen rope dyed blue. She knotted it about her waist, and hung a knife on her right hip and a coin pouch on her left. Last of all she threw her cloak across her shoulders. It was a real mummer's cloak, purple wool lined in red silk, with a hood to keep the rain off, and three secret pockets too. She'd hid some coins in one of those, an iron key in another, a blade in the last. A real blade, not a fruit knife like the one on her hip, but it did not belong to Mercy, no more than her other treasures did. 

[akittenwrites]

Queen of Ice and Prince of Fire [8]

Author: @akittenwrites

Summary: Lady Y/N Stark of Winterfell has declared herself Queen in the North. That means war, against King Viserys, and also against Prince Daemon. But the Rogue Prince doesn't want to fight her.

Type: multichapter series

Chapter: eight

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x reader

Word count: 3982

Warnings: swearing, violence, blood, smut.

Part one.

Part two.

Part three.

Part four.

Part five.

Part six.

Part seven.

The ground was covered in white velvet as it had been snowing the entire day. Her eyes rose to the sky, painted pink and orange as the sun descended. The weather had granted them a reprieve.

A light breeze caressed her skin and rustled the leaves of the trees around them. The forest was quiet and only the firewood could be heard as it burnt away. The red-hot flames rose from the small pyre, almost as tall as her. She looked at the man in front of her, dressed in red and gold, standing tall and proud with his silver hair framing his face. He had had it braided for the ceremony. Their eyes met briefly and Y/N clutched the bouquet of winter roses in her hands, anxious. Could an improvised marriage under the eyes of a god neither believed in be enough to heal their wounds?

They had argued about it. Daemon had insisted the answer was dragonfire, not a magic ritual. Yet the red priestess that guided them had made it clear that dragonfire would be necessary, but not sufficient to win this battle. Only the joint forces of ice and fire could, she had said.

Y/N was surrounded by doubt. Lord Umber had argued that Daemon Targaryen was still his prisoner despite everything, which was true to an extent. Lord Karstark believed what was happening in Winterfell could not be ignored, and they had to stop it no matter the cost. Lord Bolton had proposed flaying their Targaryen prisoner as a peace offering to the Old Gods. Lord Mormont hadn't survived the battle of Winterfell, to Y/N's dismay.

The argument had gotten heated between Lord Umber and Daemon, yet it did not matter in the end. Y/N was still Queen and her words were to be followed, especially after she had managed to fight three dragons and survive. She had captured the most feared man in Westeros and had brought him to Lord Umber's doors. They believed in the power she wielded now if they didn't before. And they would listen to her, because they had chosen her and had pledged their loyalty, and their vows were not to be broken.

The problem was that Daemon owed her nothing. There were no vows to be upheld, no promises to be kept, and no debts to be paid. So with him, she had to bargain. She could have him rot in the dungeons until the end of time if she wished, but her priorities were different. She needed him to participate in Vella's ritual and she needed him to ride Caraxes into battle. She needed him by her side.

It had taken them hours going back and forth until Daemon had finally agreed to play his part, even if he believed Vella was nothing more than a jester. Daemon could be incredibly stubborn, yet he was far from stupid. He knew there was a war on the horizon that he would be a part of sooner or later, and he knew which side he was on. His freedom was all he asked for in the end, and the respect he deserved. He was a Prince and wished to be treated as such.

And she granted it all.

They were fighting for a common cause now, and it trumped any other conflict they previously had. Daemon was their ally, not their prisoner. So he would have a seat in her small council to discuss war strategies, as one of them.

What would happen once the dead were defeated? Would Daemon Targaryen attempt to burn them all to the ground?

Those were questions for the future if they had one.

Suddenly, Vella threw some kind of dust into the fire that made it flare and burn even brighter, illuminating the eyes of everyone present. Lord Karstark was by Y/N's side, dressed in simple grey clothes. Vella stood next to Daemon in a flowing red dress and started reciting prayers in High Valyrian, which Y/N could barely understand.

Nobody else was with them.

The maids had helped her with her wedding dress, made of white silk and Myrish lace. Even if it covered her modestly, with a high neckline and long, loose sleeves, it hugged her body so tightly it made her figure the center of attention. With blue pearls embroidered and a train that shined in the snow, it was a work of art.

Her hair had been cut even and styled in a bun decorated with the same blueish pearls, which also adorned her ears. She was wearing her crown as well. It had never felt heavier.

Vella had insisted on the white, for it represented innocence and purity, which sounded ridiculous. Yet it also represented winter and ice, so she had agreed to wear it.

It was Vella's voice that snapped her out of her trance, asking for her presence.

"May the bride approach the sacred fire?"

"She may," Lord Karstark answered, offering up his arm and leading her toward Vella and Daemon.

She stood in front of the man responsible for her love and her grief.

The priestess' red eyes were fixed on Y/N as she spoke.

"Y/N of House Stark, do you come before the Lord of Light of your own free will?"

"I do," she answered, making eye contact with Daemon. He let his eyes wander up and down her figure with no shame. She knew he had always wanted a Valyrian wedding and this was far from one, yet his eyes were shining bright anyway as he took her in. There was even a soft smile on his lips.

"Before entering a sacred union one must rid oneself of curses. Cursed objects, cursed desires, and cursed souls doom marriages. So under the eye of the Lord of Light, Y/N of House Stark and Daemon of House Targaryen shall cleanse their darkness by burning it in the sacred fire."

Y/N took a deep breath as she nodded.

"Where is the old crown that once belonged to a King?"

Y/N leaned down slightly, allowing Lord Karstark to reach for her head and take it off, passing it to Vella's hands. It did not look magical at all, just old, rusty, and jaded.

Vella approached the fire and let the crown fall into the flames. It sizzled and burned brighter.

"Where are your broken hearts? The source of your love and the source of your pain. Bring them forward."

Y/N bit her lip as she took off the ruby ring Daemon had gifted her and handed it to Vella, even if giving it away made her chest feel heavy. The ring had been Daemon's gift to her, the promise he cared about her, and she had worn it as a promise she cared about him as well. It was a symbol of their love for each other. Yet their love had withered the roses and left her only with thorns.

And that was why it needed to burn.

She watched as Daemon wordlessly handed Vella a folded piece of parchment he had inside his shirt. It appeared to be written on. She squinted as Vella placed both tokens above the flames before letting them fall and burn as well. Was that the letter she had written to him? Had he been carrying it with him the whole time?

A lone tear fell down her cheek as she focused on the fire.

He loved her.

He had loved her all this time.

He had been carrying her letter the same way she had been wearing his ring, both holding onto a piece of each other, refusing to let go of what had been. Of what could be. But those tokens did not represent hope at all. The ring was a constant reminder of what she had lost, a painful consolation, a source of memories that did not bring her joy anymore.

She used to smile at the thought of Daemon. At the memories they shared in the Red Keep. Fighting, reading, laughing. And when she was living in Winterfell after her father's death, reminiscing about her time with Daemon had been comforting. She would laugh, remembering how they used to sneak around the castle, avoiding guards and maesters. She would drift to sleep at night wondering where he was, if he was looking at the same moon as her, if he was thinking about her as well.

Things had changed since the war started. Now his name had become a source of anguish and every time she looked at the ring her heart would shrink in her chest, as if her own rib cage was turning smaller, squeezing it. She would cry herself to sleep at night every night. The past months had been torture.

She was free of it now.

And she was ready to start over.

"Daemon of House Targaryen, do you claim Y/N of House Stark as your bride?"

"I do," he answered, locking eyes with her.

"You will be joined forever with the blessing of the Lord of Light," Vella recited, as bride and groom looked at each other, entranced. "Blood of the First Men and the blood of Old Valyria, the magic of ice and the magic of fire, two souls that shall belong to one another for all eternity. A union that has never been seen before."

Vella closed her eyes as she whispered in High Valyrian, making the fire crackle and the flames rise brighter and higher.

Daemon seemed focused on her words, briefly closing his eyes as well.

Then Vella produced a dagger from inside one of her sleeves and presented it to them.

"Now is time to bleed."

Daemon took it in his hands as Y/N passed her bouquet to Lord Karstark and walked a step forward, facing the man that would become her husband. Her soulmate. Forever.

He offered up his hand and she placed hers on top, with her palm facing upwards. She did not look away from his face for a second as she waited, just observing. His violet gaze, his lips, his jaw. She would finally be able to look at him, touch him, and kiss him without hiding. It seemed surreal, standing there in the snow, in a wedding dress, getting married to Daemon Targaryen. How was it even possible?

The sudden stinging pain in her hand made her shiver and attempt to pull away, but Daemon held it in place as blood started gushing out from the deep cut, staining the sleeves of her dress.

He looked her in the eye, nodding, silently telling her to trust him. And she did, as she accepted the dagger with her other hand and, clutching his with her own bloodied one, cut him deep as well. He didn't even flinch as he turned his hand around and held hers with it, joining their blood as it dripped on the pristine, white snow.

Vella took the dagger from them and carefully let it fall into the fire as well.

"You have given back your curse, your pain, and your blood. May the Lord of Light guide you in your future path and undo the evil your heartache has caused." She positioned herself between them. "Now it shall be known that Y/N of House Stark and Daemon of House Targaryen have chosen to bind themselves to each other for eternity, sharing their fire and forever protecting one another. For the night is dark and full of terrors."

The sun had set, yet the fire was so bright she could see well. Vella's red eyes became even brighter, if it was possible, as she finished the ceremony.

"You are now one. You may bed and warm each other tonight, and every night…" She made a pause. "You are now husband and wife under the eyes of the Lord of Light."

And as the last words were said and Vella disappeared into the darkness of the forest, Y/N's focus turned to Daemon. She didn't care about anything else. She had just married the man she had loved so deeply for so long. She couldn't believe it was real.

He didn't waste a second as he leaned forward to capture her lips with his, fervently claiming her as his. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, hugging him and bringing him as close as possible, feeling his strong body against hers, inhaling his scent, and letting herself get lost in him. The pain in her hand was long forgotten as she clutched his shirt, messing it up with her blood. It did not matter. Nothing else mattered. Only Daemon.

She slid her tongue against his, moaning against his lips when he tugged on her hair, undoing her bun and letting it free. His large hands then grasped her waist to pull her even closer to him, as if it were possible, biting her bottom lip to engulf her in another passionate, intoxicating kiss. His lips moved against hers with mindless desire, refusing to let her go, as she clung to his shoulders, giving herself to him. They had yearned for each other for too long. The intensity of the kiss made her forget to breathe, and a minute later her lungs forced her to pull away abruptly, gasping for breath. She kept her eyes closed as she recovered, feeling a little light-headed, and heard him chuckle. She smiled as she stood on her toes and touched his nose with hers, still holding onto him.

"What are you laughing about?" she whispered, as he rested his forehead on hers.

"You, of course," he teased. "The Queen in the North is out of breath after a little kiss."

"Mmm, not Queen in the North anymore. I don't think so."

"Are you sure? I was told I was marrying a Queen. If you tricked me, Y/N, I swear…"

She giggled as she buried her face in his neck, breathing in his scent.

"What will you do? Lock me up in my chambers?"

"Lock you up in our chambers. And I am not letting you out until I am done with you."

"You'll never be done with me," she breathed out.

"You are right about that, love. I will warm your bed every night until the day I die."

She smiled to herself, still hugging him, choosing to remain silent as she took everything in. They were married. They were bound by blood and they still had one last battle to fight. How would Viserys react to the news? Daemon was still married to Rhea Royce under the Faith of the Seven. Would her people be in danger?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a breeze of chilly winter air that made her shiver in Daemon's arms. He pulled away to look at her, the moonlight shining on his hair.

"You are cold," he said. "How about we start with the bed sharing now?"

She leaned forward to give him a peck on the lips.

"That sounds lovely." She looked him in the eye then. "Thank you for doing this."

"Are you thanking me for marrying you?"

She laughed, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.

"I guess," she said, resting a hand on his chest. "For taking part in this whole ritual. I know you don't believe Vella too much."

"I did it because it was important to you. And because I wanted to. You don't have to thank me for that, Y/N."

She smiled at him, wondering what she had done to deserve a man that was both fearsome and loving.

"That's fair. Let's go back then."

They had plenty of worries, but they would have to wait until the morning. They walked back to the castle hand in hand, receiving strange looks from her men camping outside. Her white dress was covered in Daemon's blood, and his attire had suffered a similar fate. Still, they radiated peace as they made their way inside the castle, and were too preoccupied with one another to notice the curious and questioning looks they got from guards, servants, and lords.

Their shared chambers were not bigger than Y/N's own in Winterfell, but it had a fireplace with a warm fire burning, and a bed with plenty of furs, so she had nothing to complain about. Once the doors were shut and they found themselves in private for the first time as husband and wife, Y/N made her way to the mirror.

Even with her hair tousled and her dress stained, she looked like a bride. A real one, not just one for Vella's ritual. Daemon approached her from behind and hugged her waist. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he observed their reflections.

His voice cut through the silence as he picked up her hand.

"You're hurt," he stated, looking at her bleeding palm.

It was true, but the pain had dulled with the cold.

"So are you," she answered, turning around to face him. "Don't worry about it."

He let her go as he approached one of the nightstands, rummaging through the drawers until he found what he was looking for.

"Come here," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Let me bandage it for you."

She obliged, sitting next to him as she offered up her hand. She distracted herself by examining the canopy, made of grey fabric. For a warrior, Daemon had an incredibly soft touch. He was careful not to hurt her while doing a fantastic job, making her immediately feel better.

"Thank you," she smiled, looking into his eyes. "Now let me do you."

Kneeling at his feet, she cleaned his wound with great care and bandaged him the same way he had done with her. Their eyes met once she was done, while she still held his hand in hers.

It seemed like an eternity and less than a second had passed at the same time as they gazed into each other's eyes, until Daemon's voice interrupted their trance.

"Shall we get you out of that dress?"

She smiled, noticing the mischievous look in his purple gaze. She didn't need to give him a verbal answer, as she stood up and turned her back to him, waiting. A few seconds later his fingers were moving her hair to the side while he undid the first button of her dress. He did it slowly at first. Once he got past her hair, he picked up his pace until the last button came undone and her wedding gown was allowed to fall, pooling around her on the floor. She tensed as the cold air around them touched her naked skin for the first time, and turned to face her new husband.

His shirt was already half undone from their time in the woods, but she finished the job and placed her hand on his naked chest. Then she pushed him, making him walk backward until she forced him to sit on the bed again. She wasted no time, climbing on his lap as she threaded her fingers through his hair and guided him to take one of her nipples in his mouth.

He did as asked, sucking on it and using his warm, wet tongue to massage it. His hands found their place at her hips, helping her move on top of him, rubbing her pussy against his thigh. His cock was rock hard under his breeches as he finished sucking on her breast, leaving it with a glistening red mark on it before moving on to the other one. Y/N's breathing became heavier as Daemon buckled his hips, helping her position herself on top of his cock.

"Don't stop," she breathed out, needing to feel his wet mouth on her, as she undid his breeches and finally let him free. She licked her hand before using it to stroke his cock a few times, making him groan and let go of her. She used the moment to take control, pushing against his chest to force him to lie down on the bed, using her hands and knees to stay on top of him.

She leaned down to kiss him again, slowly, taking her time to feel him. Her skin was burning with desire, and she couldn't help moaning into his mouth when she felt his fingers stroking her wet cunt. She continued leaving open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, enjoying the sound of his labored breathing. He placed a hand on her hips while using the other one to hold his cock, guiding her as she lowered herself to take him in, inch by inch. She bit his shoulder as they finally came together, feeling his cock pulsing inside her. He stretched her open so good. She clenched around him, getting used to his size again, as she splayed her hands across his chest and lifted herself up.

Daemon's eyes were dark with unadulterated desire, watching her while resting his hands on her sides. She lifted her hips and sank down on him again at an agonizingly slow pace, torturing him as she got what she wanted from him, looking into his eyes with nothing but wanton need.

"Do you have any idea how much I want to come inside you right now? Fill you up?" he purred.

Y/N bit her lip as she rocked her hips against his.

"I do," she breathed out. "But you must satisfy me first, Daemon. It is our wedding night after all."

She arched her back as his cock slid into her over and over again, swallowing hard as beads of sweat formed on her skin.

He tightened his grip on her hips.

"Are you questioning me, wife?"

Her husband thrust upwards, attempting to take control and increase the rhythm, but Y/N didn't let him, stopping her movements instead.

"Just reminding you," she replied, using her hands to stroke the muscles of his arms, "of your husbandly duties."

Daemon smirked, using the strength of his arms to lift her up and carefully throw her on the bed again, right next to him. She barely had time to react as he positioned himself on top of her, making her lie down with her back to the ceiling.

"And I intend to fulfill them," he answered at last.

She felt his thick cock sliding between her buttocks, downwards until he found her entrance again and buried himself deep inside her. She made a strangled noise as she tightened around him, her body moving on its own as she lifted her hips, giving him easier access.

"Do you like it this way?" Daemon grunted, giving her no respite as she writhed underneath him, fucking her deeper.

She tried to answer but gave him an incoherent response instead, drunk with pleasure as she saw stars every time Daemon filled her completely. She arched her back even more as he kept pounding into her, her vision becoming blurry as her eyes filled with tears.

"Daemon..." she cried out, trying to ask him to fuck her harder, to never stop...

She shuddered as she finally reached her peak, clenching around him harder than she ever had before. Time slowed down as the world shattered around her, her breathing turning irregular as her body went limp.

It took her a few minutes to recover. She felt Daemon's body lying next to her as she realized he had come too, with his cum dripping out of her. She turned around to kiss him, coming down from her high and looking for his warmth. He embraced her, enjoying the feeling of her body against his.

They had a long night ahead of them.

There was a message from Viserys waiting for him on the desk next to the fire, still unopened. The raven had arrived that morning. It was probably a response to Daemon's own message telling him about his future wedding and the magical enemy they faced.

It would have to wait until the morning.

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

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[stark-boys-simp]

demon on a leash.

(ramsay bolton x oakheart!reader)

a/n: listen i like evil men okay. i do not condone their actions i just think it’s kind of hot and silly and i don’t think that is a problem (it is a problem)

warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I WILL HIT YOU WITH A CAR, ramsay bolton is a warning in and of himself, pre-season 4 of GOT, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), biting, breeding kink, murder, stray pickled eyeball, ramsay is a fucking creep, this could probably be described as yandere, the author is bad at writing smut, this author is bad at writing generally, vague mention of joffrey (disgusting), implied bisexual reader but let’s face it all my readers are bisexual, reader is NOT a virgin and ramsay appreciates it, ramsay is pussywhipped as hell

———

the ceremony had been beautiful, but it was so cold up there. she had expected her wedding to be warm and summery, but when her mother had betrothed her to the infamous “bastard of bolton,” all her fantasies were dashed.

y/n smoothed the creamy velvet dress as she stood before the fire. the jewels she was wearing caught the light beautifully, glowing amber in the dim atmosphere. ramsay would be there soon, she thought. he had seemed so odd during the ceremony: cold, and charming, and utterly attentive to her. disturbingly attentive, for someone of his reputation. he poured wine for her, cut her meat. his pale gaze never left her for even a second.

a floorboard creaked suddenly, and she whirled around. ramsay stood there, observing her in the firelight. “my beautiful wife,” he said, in his soft, rasping voice.

she curtsied. “husband.”

he crossed the room in three quick strides, taking her hand in his and directing her into one of two chairs at the fireside. margaery tyrell had one like him, she thought. if only she remembered how margaery had said she handled him.

ramsay hadn’t stopped staring at her for even a second. “forgive me, sweet girl, i had some unfinished business to take care of.”

“it’s quite alright,” she said softly, and hesitated before speaking again. “i am sure whatever it was must have been important. i do not begrudge you your time.”

ramsay’s mouth twitched in a faint, amused smile. “i am glad to hear it. incidentally, i have a gift for you.”

“oh?”

he nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, ornately carved wooden box. y/n took it with murmured thanks and turned it over in her hands, inspecting it carefully. it was carved with oak leaves around the sides, and the flayed man of house bolton on top. as she turned it, she heard a faint thunk inside. she turned to ramsay, feigning delight, dreading what her instinct told her was within. “what is it, my love?”

he raised his eyebrows and smiled cheerfully, but said nothing, merely gesturing for her to open it.

when she undid the clasp and the lid sprang open, a bloody brown eye looked back up at her.

she froze, forcing her face into a faint, impassive smile, her thoughts running through all the people it could be. a friend? a cousin, dear gods, not-

she turned to ramsay, who was grinning delightedly. “whose is it, my love?”

he stood, coming over and leaning over her shoulder, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to her shoulder before replying. “one of walder frey’s bastards. he had the nerve to ask me when the bedding ceremony was.”

interesting. maybe she could work with this. “thank you for that, husband,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “i do not wish anyone to see my body, save you.” y/n took his hand from where it rested behind her and pressed his scarred knuckles to her lips, looking up at him and making her eyes large and soft.

he preened under the attention. “good girl.” his voice was low and raspy, pupils blown wide in his pale eyes.

alright, she thought. she could work with this.

———

king robert’s fiftieth birthday was held at winterfell, and almost everyone was in attendance, from the umbers of the last hearth to the ullers of hellholt and the redwynes of the arbor. even most of the bastards of the great houses had been invited, leaving ramsay standing in a corner while his father spoke with lord flint.

he had hoped to see lady oakheart and her daughter that night. he had heard of lady y/n’s beauty as she grew, remembering her from when they were children. he scanned the room, sneering at jon umber as he noticed him trying to flirt with margaery tyrell, scowling at rickard karstark’s drunken jokes.

he could see theon greyjoy standing off to the side, eying a woman in gold with robb stark. curious, he followed their gaze, and it led him back to her.

he inhaled sharply when he saw her, in soft silks draped carefully over her soft curves, with golden pins and jewels holding it delicately in place. he hadn’t seen her since they were thirteen years old, but in the five years since then, she was a woman.

he could see greyjoy walking over to her, which meant he had to act fast. he crossed the distance between them as quickly as possible, bowing before her as he reached her and noting greyjoy’s annoyance with delight. “sweet lady,” he said, looking back up at her after a moment.

her lips parted in a pretty smile. she looked like a goddess, in a halo of candlelight, resplendent in gold. “my lord,” she said with a slight chuckle.

he stared at her for a moment, his breath catching in his throat before he remembered himself. “would you dance with me?” he asked.

she raised her eyebrows, her voice taking on a teasing lilt. “i don’t even know your name.”

“ramsay.”

“y/n.” she took his arm gently, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor.

he settled his hands onto her hips as the slow, elegant song began, delighted to feel the soft flesh so warm under the thin fabric. “how do you find the north so far?” he asked, looking down into her eyes.

“cold,” she replied. “i thought people were exaggerating the summer chill.”

he could see that. her hard nipples were poking through the dress. he wondered what her skin would taste like if he were to lick and suck at the pointed nubs. “i never particularly notice, myself. you get used to it the more you stay up here.”

“are you from here, then?”

“near the dreadfort.” he spun her carefully in his arms, watching her earrings catch the light. her perfume smelled like vanilla and sweet amber. “i’m in service to lord bolton.”

“oh really?” she was so close to him he could feel her breath. he silently thanked the old gods, or whichever gods were out there, for the crowds on the dance floor. “i was betrothed to his son, before he died. lord domeric.”

“were you now?”

“mhm. it was such a tragedy. i did not know him well, but he seemed a very kind man.”

kind indeed. he remembered the slight look of disdain she had had for him when they met. how lucky that she was now available to marry ramsay. “are you betrothed now?” he asked.

“not yet. i’ve had an offer made to me by theon greyjoy’s father, but nothing is settled.”

he clenched his teeth, but kept a straight face. “the greyjoys are an old and proud house. you could do well there.”

“mm, perhaps. too proud for my taste, though. and it’s so dreary there. i would miss my home.” ramsay looked down at her face, eyeing her lips, painted with red ochre. in the candlelight, it looked like she had been drinking blood. “besides, if i were to marry anyone, it would have to be someone like you.”

he had to do a double take to be sure he wasn’t imagining things. he’d been dreaming of that for so long. “you’d what?”

she chuckled, her cheeks flushed. “well, not you specifically. but someone who isn’t the heir of a great house like the starks or the greyjoys, who wouldn’t get in the way of me inheriting my own lands..-.”

she was still talking, but he wasn’t listening. all he could think of was her words. she would have to marry someone like him.

———

the fire was still crackling in the hearth, but ramsay was uncomfortably silent.

y/n could still feel his pale eyes on her as she stared at the frey man’s eye. he was working at undoing the elaborate braided hairstyle she had been married in, carefully plucking out the pins and placing them on the vanity next to them. “i should go down to the maester tomorrow and get a good jar of vinegar for this,” she remarked, trying to break the silence.

she could see his eyebrows crease through the mirror. “what for?”

“it’ll preserve it,” y/n replied. she tilted her head back and smiled up at him as the last lock of her hair came undone. “so i can keep your sweet gift forever, my dear husband.”

he smiled broadly and kissed the top of her head. “you are the sweet one, little wife.” at least she now knew what seemed to please him.

she stood up, pulling the thick locks of her hair over her shoulder, exposing the laces of her dress to him. “will you undress your wife?” she asked softly.

he let out a noise that was half chuckle, half groan and stepped closer to her. he pressed a lazy kiss to the junction of her shoulder, grazing the soft and delicate skin with his teeth. “i will.”

———

she saw the power she had over him, he knew that, but ramsay couldn’t bring himself to care. he finally had her, and everything was coming together.

he undid the strings holding her dress carefully, feeling the smooth velvet on his hands. he had been concerned, sometimes, when he was fucking his fist or myranda late at night, that they would be too rough for his pretty darling. he’d heard she liked the pretty boys down south. pretty boys and pretty girls both. his spies had at least been helpful in that regard. but she hadn’t seemed to mind his hands much when he was undoing her hair. he had noticed that she was wearing the same vanilla and amber perfume as at that ball two years ago. the scent permeated her hair, and since he had touched her neck he could smell it on his hands.

she was turning to him now, the firelight catching in her hair and turning it to a halo again. her dress hadn’t yet fallen down.

he noticed her lips moving and blinked, fixing his mouth into a winning smile. “pardon me, love, i wasn’t paying attention. what was that?”

she smiled back at him prettily. “i asked whether you’d like me to undress you, husband.”

he shook his head. “not yet. take off your clothes.”

she inhaled sharply through her nose and let the dress fall.

———

ramsay looked down at domeric, watching him writhe in his bed.

domeric’s eyes cracked open, watching him approach. “you did this,” he croaked. “you poisoned me.”

“mm. yes, i did.” ramsay shoved his hands in his pockets, taking a seat in the chair at the side of the bed.

domeric coughed. “why? i was always kind to you. you were my brother.”

ramsay laughed harshly. “your bastard brother, as you reminded me every day.” he leaned closer. “you stole my father, my birthright. you tried to steal the woman i love. i stopped you.”

“woman?” domeric frowned. “you love y/n? ha!” he coughed again, glaring up at ramsay with a red-rimmed eye. “you don’t love anyone.”

ramsay smiled at him coldly. “certainly not you.” he picked up a pillow idly, pretending to inspect it closely before standing up and smiling cheerfully at domeric. “happy dreams, dear brother.”

the pillow descended over domeric’s face.

———

y/n didn’t want to admit it, but ramsay’s words had gotten to her. perhaps it was something to do with the way he said it, in that low rasp, or the way his eyes looked at her so hungrily. the dress slipped down her body, leaving her in her under clothes. she heard him inhale sharply when he saw the sheer, delicate lace chemise hugging her breasts, pushed up beautifully in the corset. she undid the clasps holding it up, heat rising in her belly when he groaned as her breasts fell free.

“on the bed,” he ordered, and she complied, quickly sitting on the edge and waiting for him.

instead of pushing her back and undoing his trousers as she thought he would, he knelt in front of her. she watched his hands closely, watched them pull her legs apart, begin to pull down the delicate lace stockings. she shivered in the new cold against her legs, then shivered again when he pressed a kiss to her thigh, just above her knee. he grinned at her reaction to him, then pounced forward quickly and but down harshly at the tender skin of her inner thigh.

y/n cried out at the feeling of his teeth sinking into her, and ramsay looked up and hushed her gently. “quiet, sweetling. you’re mine now. i get to mark you as i please. i will not hurt you too badly.”

her chest rose and fell in quickened breaths, and she looked down at him with eyes that she knew were blown wide with lust. “i did not say it was a bad pain.”

ramsay laughed darkly, looking up at her like a starving man. “i believe i must be the luckiest man in the world.”

he reached upwards and tore through her smallclothes, ignoring her protests and diving into her core, lapping at it like a man dying of thirst. he nipped slightly at her swollen bud and she moaned his name loudly, reaching down and grabbing a fistful of his hair. he groaned at the mix of pain and pleasure and reached down, using one hand to hold her legs apart and the other to fist his cock. y/n could barely hear it over the rush of blood in her ears, but as she came over his face and tongue she could hear him muttering things like, “so beautiful… wanted you for so long… no one else deserved you.”

she collapsed back on the bed, chest heaving and cheeks flushed. ramsay chuckled softly. “not yet, pet. let me see you.” he pulled her up and took her lace chemise off of her body carefully, setting it aside. finally, he lay her back on the bed, admiring the many bruises and bites that now littered her thighs and shoulders. “are you a virgin?” he murmured hoarsely. at her hesitation, he added, “do not worry, sweet girl, i won’t be angry. you didn’t know yet.”

didn’t know what? she wanted to ask, but refrained. instead, she slowly shook her head. “i am not, no.” he didn’t seem like a person to lie to.

his lips parted in a wide and utterly unexpected grin. “thank the gods.”

he flipped her over onto her belly, manhandling her into the position he wanted on the bed. he raised her hips into the air and climbed up behind her, undoing his trousers and letting his cock spring free. it fell against her center, and he rutted against her a few times, soaking his painfully hard length with her slick and then plunging into her, setting a rough, almost punishing pace from the start. y/n mewled, her hands curling into the sheets and fisting the soft material. he would bruise her hips, she was sure, with how hard he was gripping them, muttering between his grunts of pleasure about how pretty she would look round and swollen with his heir. he reached up and palmed her tits, pulling her backward into his chest and pinching her hardened nipples. “you see these?” he panted, making her whine as the rough pads of his thumbs brushed over her sore flesh. “these will feed my son in a few months, pretty wife.”

y/n’s head tilted back, falling onto his shoulder, exposing her soft neck to him. he bit down at the tender place just under her jaw as he finished, reaching down to rub harshly at the pearl between her legs and making her tremble and squeeze around him as she came, leaving her limp-boned in his arms. he panted harshly for a few moments, letting her collapse back onto him, before carefully pulling out and laying her down on the bed, chest still rising and falling quickly. y/n saw him get up through half-lidded eyes, admiring the muscles of his back as he moved. he rifled through his desk for a moment as she caught her breath before turning back and walking to her, holding something small in his hands.

he looked down at her spread legs, where a few drops of his seed had leaked out of her swollen, puffy cunt. “careful now, sweetling,” he murmured. he used his free hand to push the sticky white spend back inside her, grinning at the whine she let out at the intrusion into her sensitive core. “have to make sure there’s a baby in you by next month.”

y/n nodded sleepily, eyes half shut. she gestured towards the small thing in his hand. “what’s that?” she murmured.

“oh, this?” he held it up. “it’s a collar.” the jewelry was rich, fine gold, studded with rubies and emblazoned with the sigil of house bolton. “do you know what collars are for?”

y/n blinked up at him sleepily, dreading what he was going to say.

“they tell you who owns the bitch, sweet wife.” he caressed her face gently, then pulled her up into a sitting position and fastened the collar around her neck. it sat prettily at the base of her throat, the rubies gleaming like fresh blood. “now, whose bitch are you, my love?”

y/n’s voice was hoarse and quiet from moans and cries and no small amount of fear. “yours, husband.”

“i didn’t quite hear you.” he tugged her head forward until her lips were close enough to kiss. he spoke slowly, emphasizing every word. “who. do you. belong to?” the collar was digging into the bruises on her neck, but y/n looked up at him and cleared her throat. her mind was whirling with fear, with escape plans, with the question of how she was going to survive this. “answer me, my love,” he said again, gripping the collar tighter. y/n’s eyes seemed to clear as a realization came over her, a new plan for survival. she looked up at him with hazy, false, lovesick eyes, and answered him.

“you. i belong to you.”

[girls4camilla]

hi hello here's some songs from my playlist that i think the bachelor(ette)s would like just kinda based off vibes alone

clickbait disclaimer actually most of these are from my playlist. credit goes to my friend who thought of the taylor swift and most of the beatles songs 🫶🏼

BACHELORETTES

abigail.

let the flames begin - paramore

night crawling - miley cyrus ft. billy idol

pirate jet - gorillaz

vs. susie - toby fox

no celestial - le sserafim

emily.

froot - marina

xs - rina sawayama

eros and apollo - studio killers

the innocent - aurora

oil - gorillaz ft. stevie nicks

haley.

hot as ice - britney spears

i don't do drugs - doja cat ft. ariana grande

bubblegum bitch - marina

my hair - ariana grande

radar - britney spears

leah.

winter bird - aurora

i call your name - the mamas and the papas cover

when it rains - paramore

running with the wolves - aurora

care - beabadoobee

maru.

134340 - bts

space girl - frances forever

lava lamp - cuco

my universe - coldplay ft. bts

silent running - gorillaz ft. adeleye omotayo

penny.

dream a little dream of me - cass elliot rendition

never grow up - taylor swift

i am just a girl - abba

savior complex - phoebe bridgers

the best day - taylor swift

BACHELORS

alex.

bet on it - troy bolton zac efron

skate - silk sonic

physical - olivia newton john

hungry like the wolf - duran duran

stacy's mom - fountains of wayne

elliott.

careless whisper - george michael

good old fashioned lover boy - queen

autumn leaves - nat king cole

april in paris - frank sinatra

i'm happy just to dance with you - the beatles

harvey.

she's my kind of girl - abba

the way you look tonight - frank sinatra

crazy little thing called love - queen

l-o-v-e - nat king cole

all my loving - the beatles

sam.

love buzz - nirvana

sorcererz - gorillaz

rude buster - toby fox

baby hotline - jack stauber

brick by boring brick - paramore

sebastian.

lithium - nirvana

louder than bombs - bts

ignorance - paramore

complicated - avril lavigne

the jetset life is gonna kill you - mcr

shane.

lounge act - nirvana

problems - mother mother

uptown girl - billy joel

kansas - gorillaz

happy - mother mother

BONUS !!!

here's some expanded characters + a ridgeside bachelor bc i had thoughts

sophia.

aitai-tai - red velvet

basics - twice

cupid (twin ver.) - fifty fifty

victor.

mipha’s theme - the legend of zelda: breath of the wild

penny lane - the beatles

merry go round of life - joe hisaishi/howl’s moving castle

june.

like - bts

after last night - silk sonic ft. thundercat & bootsy

sway - denise king cover

idk abt these next ones but i wanna include my men saurrr here's some songs i think they'd like besides classical or the medieval party mix

lance.

snow flower - v ft. peakboy

take on me - a-ha

seven nation army (medieval ver.) - the white stripes

isaac.

king nothing - metallica

smoke sprite - so!yoon! ft. rm

clint eastwood - gorillaz

[chasingthedragons]

Wedding gowns in the Seven Kingdoms

Lady Alicent Hightower with King Viserys I Targaryen

The future Queen wore a magnificent but simple bright white gown printed with the crest of House Targaryen, with a golden V-shaped embroidery in the center, two winged dragons crowning the shoulders with a pair of open wings. The sleeves, open at the elbows and as long as the skirt, are shagged in a red with a gold and dark red quadrille pattern. An ostentatious gold necklace, gold and pearl earrings, and a splendid crown of gold, pearl and rubies.

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen with Ser Laenor Velaryon

For the opening banquet of the celebration, the Princess wore a beautiful white dress with a pattern of scales, gold embroidery and inlaid with rubies at the neckline, with a small gold braided brooch, and the belt, which is attached with a gold brooch with two dragons and a gold chain, equal to the eight that hang on each side of the arms of the princess. Rings, bracelets and earrings of gold and rubies, a grand necklace of gold and rubies, rubies crowning her hairstyle, a hair brooch of gold, pearls and rubies and a piece of carved gold for her braid.

In addition we can see her maiden cloak, black and with the emblem of House Targaryen in red on one side and blue with the emblem of House Velaryon on the other. Golden lapels and shoulder boards.

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen with Prince Daemon Targaryen

On the coast of Dragonstone and according to Valyrian tradition, she wore a sand-colored suit with red gradient on sleeves, skirt and shoulders, with a red garment under it. A belt of the same color as the dress and neckline. Crowned with a black headdress decorated in the same color as the dress.

Lady Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen

Lady Lyanna was married in a secret ceremony wearing a gown of light ice-green, sleeveless fabric and silver and gold leaf ornaments, like a belt, at the neckline and going up from her waist, past her neck. Because of the haste and secrecy of their betrothal, there was no maiden's cloak.

Princess Daenerys Targaryen with Khal Drogo

At her wedding, the Princess wore a simple pale lilac dress with straps, bracelets of which matching fabrics gave the impression of sleeves, silver metallic details matching the color of her dress, on her neckline and sleeves, also holding and styling her hair.

Lady Talisa Maugyr with King Robb Stark

Lady Talisa was married in a secret ceremony during the war, in a forest near the camps of King Robb's forces. So she wore the same dress she wore every day, a simple model in gray tones and a cloak in earth tones.

Lady Roslyn Frey with Lord Edmure Tully

The young Frey girl wore at her wedding to Lord Edmure a lovely green dress with flower print over a simple white dress. Long and wide sleeves and small embroidered details on the neckline. Over the dress she wore a delicate white cape woven with flowers.

Her maiden's cloak, white and earthy with intricate prints and embroidery, and a pattern of branches and leaves all around the edge, in very similar tones to the rest of her costume.

Lady Sansa Stark with Tyrion Lannister

For her wedding in the Sept of Baelor Lady Sansa wore a gown of a shimmering purple fabric with a golden floral pattern and a cross embroidery of golden lions and wolves. Metallic ornaments on her hips and a necklace with the emblem of House Lannister.

Her maiden's cloak, of red velvet with gold collar and sleeves with the lion of House Lannister in red on them.

Lady Sansa Stark with Ramsey Bolton

In the godswood of Winterfell she wore a shiny silver dress with a delicate pattern of slightly brighter lines. Over it, a short-sleeved coat of thick white velvety fabric with a braided pattern and a pair of silver brooches in the center. Covering each shoulder, a pair of white furs.

Lady Margaery Tyrell with King Joffrey Baratheon

For the most ostentatious wedding of the era, the future Queen wore an ice blue dress with an open back and matching blue rose embroidery leading to a rose-covered train. A silver necklace and a beautiful gold and silver plated crown with the antlers of House Baratheon and the roses of House Tyrell.

Her maiden's cloak, white with gold embroidery of lions and red borders, the same that Queen Cersei Lannister wore at her wedding to King Robert Baratheon.

Queen Margaery Tyrell with King Tommen Baratheon

In her second nuptials, in a much simpler ceremony, Queen Margaery wore a beautiful copper-colored dress with gold prints, sleeveless and deep neckline, plus a beautiful and ostentatious necklace that follows the shape of the neckline, crowned with the same crown she used in her wedding to King Joffrey Baratheon.

Her maiden's cloak, white, gold and red, matching the colors of her dress. The colors of House Lannister.

Lady Lysa Arryn with Lord Petyr Baelich

For her hasty wedding to Lord Baelich, Lady Lysa seemed to have her dress already prepared. She wore a light blue dress with sand-colored prints, a bust of the same color and ornaments of birds under the bust and neck from where a cape of the same fabric of the dress is born. She did not use a maiden's cloak because the ceremony was private and very simple.

[ilynpilled]

The golden armor, not the white, but no one ever remembers that. Would that I had taken off that damned cloak as well.

When I reach King's Landing I'll have a new hand forged, a golden hand.

Cersei might like that. A golden hand to stroke her golden hair.

I am not myself. He eased himself down until the water reached his chin. “Soiled my white cloak . . . I wore my gold armor that day, but . . ."

“Gold armor?” Her voice sounded far off, faint.

Jaime slid into the offered seat quickly, so Bolton could not see how weak he was. "White is for Starks. I'll drink red like a good Lannister."

She did as he bid her. "The white cloak . . ."

". . . is new, but I'm sure I'll soil it soon enough."

“That wasn't . . . I was about to say that it becomes you.”

When he was done, more than three-quarters of his page still remained to be filled between the gold lion on the crimson shield on top and the blank white shield at the bottom. Ser Gerold Hightower had begun his history, and Ser Barristan Selmy had continued it, but the rest Jaime Lannister would need to write for himself. He could write whatever he chose, henceforth. Whatever he chose . . .

"Robert's beard was black. Mine is gold."

"Gold? Or silver?" Cersei plucked a hair from beneath his chin and held it up. It was grey. "All the color is draining out of you, brother. You've become a ghost of what you were, a pale crippled thing. And so bloodless, always in white." She flicked the hair away. "I prefer you garbed in crimson and gold."

At its head Jaime stood at vigil, his one good hand curled about the hilt of a tall golden greatsword whose point rested on the floor. The hooded cloak he wore was as white as freshly fallen snow, and the scales of his long hauberk were mother-of-pearl chased with gold. Lord Tywin would have wanted him in Lannister gold and crimson, she thought. It always angered him to see Jaime all in white.

Ser Jaime Lannister, all in white, stood beside his father's bier, five fingers curled about the hilt of a golden greatsword.

Fissures had opened in his cheeks, and a foul white fluid was seeping through the joints of his splendid gold-and-crimson armor to pool beneath his body.

Glory wore trappings of Lannister crimson; Honor was barded in Kingsguard white.

His cloak was Lannister crimson, but his surcoat showed the ten purple mullets of his own House arrayed upon a yellow field.

"My lord," the lad asked, "will you be wanting your new hand?"

"Wear it, Jaime," urged Ser Kennos of Kayce. "Wave at the smallfolk and give them a tale to tell their children.”

“I think not." Jaime would not show the crowds a golden lie. Let them see the stump. Let them see the cripple.

Behind the lords came a hundred crossbowmen and three hundred men-at-arms, and crimson flowed from their shoulders as well. In his white cloak and white scale armor, Jaime felt out of place amongst that river of red.

Jaime Lannister wore a doublet of red velvet slashed with cloth-of-gold, and a golden chain studded with black diamonds. He had strapped on his golden hand as well, polished to a fine bright sheen. This was no fit place to wear his whites. His duty awaited him at Riverrun; a darker need had brought him here.

Jaime had thought long and hard about whether to wear his gold armor or his white to this meeting; in the end, he'd chosen a leather jack and a crimson cloak.

For an instant, the deep red clouds that crowned the western hills reminded him of Rhaegar's children, all wrapped up in crimson cloaks.

Seven bloody hells," he started, "who dares—" Then he saw Jaime's white cloak and golden breastplate. His swordpoint dropped. "Lannister?"

quotes specifically focusing on his hand:

“The boy is dead." Jaime had drunk three cups of wine, and his golden hand seemed to be growing heavier and clumsier by the moment.

His golden fingers were curved enough to hook, but could not grasp, so his hold upon the shield was loose. "You were a knight once, ser," Jaime said. "So was I. Let us see what we are now."

“Radiant." Fickle. "Golden." False as fool's gold. Last night he dreamed he'd found her fucking Moon Boy. He'd killed the fool and smashed his sister's teeth to splinters with his golden hand, just as Gregor Clegane had done to poor Pia. In his dreams Jaime always had two hands; one was made of gold, but it worked just like the other.

"Men shall name you Goldenhand from this day forth, my lord," the armorer had assured him the first time he'd fitted it onto Jaime's wrist. He was wrong. I shall be the Kingslayer till I die.

One of them wore the ruins of a crimson cloak, but Jaime hanged him with the rest. It felt good. This was justice. Make a habit of it, Lannister, and one day men might call you Goldenhand after all. Goldenhand the Just. The world grew ever greyer as they drew near to Harrenhal.

The weight of his golden hand had grown irksome. He fumbled at the straps that secured it to his wrist.

Well, what's one more broken vow to the Kingslayer? Just more shit in the bucket. Jaime resolved to be the first man on the battlements. And with this golden hand of mine, most like the first to fall.

Around him he glimpsed the faces of men he'd done his best to kill in the Whispering Wood, where the Freys had fought beneath the direwolf banners of Robb Stark. His golden hand hung heavy at his side.

then the subconscious conclusion:

"Is it?" She smiled sadly. "Count your hands, child."

One. One hand, clasped tight around the sword hilt. Only one. "In my dreams I always have two hands." He raised his right arm and stared uncomprehending at the ugliness of his stump.

I think the narrative that is being told in the color symbolism present in Jaime’s story is the realization that glory has no presence in the man he wants to become. He gradually realizes again the truth of the golden hand covering his stump being a golden lie. It is more an embodiment of his sins, a heavy burden he carries. True honor and change will not be wrapped in gold, and obviously not crimson. But this should not lead to the return of his cynicism, which is how he approaches this early on, and why he wants to delude himself about it. He greys, and he sheds the red and gold color. The white becomes him. The crimson & gold comes back when he does his duty for the horrid Lannister regime, when he sustains loyalty to his family, and emulates his father. Nonetheless, he keeps drawing nearer to the blank white shield at the bottom of his page and distancing himself from the crimson at the top. But maybe the lesson is that he cannot start over like that. Maybe his only choices are not the evil Kingslayer and the glittering Goldenhand the Just. Maybe he should just be Jaime. That white shield is tainted. Our good actions do not wash out the bad. They will exist simultaneously. You will never be the golden heir, the perfect pure white Just Knight. You are a crippled broken man. But that does not mean you cannot choose to continue living and keep pushing to change for the better:

“What else can I do, but die?”

“Live,” she said

Maybe the blank white shield is an impossible ideal not made for him. But what remains if he cannot be crimson, gold, or the pure white?

yet she knew it was him. “Even at a distance, Ser Jaime Lannister was unmistakable. The moonlight had silvered his armor and the gold of his hair, and turned his crimson cloak to black.”

He was always meant to be a grey character. Why don’t we mix that black & white?

[esther-dot]

"When he weds 'Arya Stark' at Winterfell, Ramsay wears a black velvet doublet slashed with pink silk and glittering with garnet teardrops. The pink bride's cloak is also spattered with red garnets." "Tyrion wore a doublet of black velvet covered with golden scrollwork, thigh-high boots that added three inches to his height, a chain of rubies and lions’ heads" Both Jon foils wore Targ colors while marrying Stark girls. Bonus Ramsey wore garnets.

and this ask:

Joffery had ruby on his sword while Jon had garnets on his sword. Rhaegar wore black armour with rubies at his breastplate while Jon wore black garbs as a NW brother with garnets on his sword. Interestingly Dany had a dream where she was at Rhaegar's place wearing black armour.

I searched black velvet and rubies and garnets, and those pop up enough that I can’t say there’s a totally consistent pattern in how they’re all used, but the Lannisters are kinda wannabe Targs, as in, the comparison of themselves comes up so it’s certainly on the author’s mind, and their power via violence reign ends as pathetically as the Targs will, so I think the connection is undeniable. And of course, Ramsay is the horror story of what a bastard might do to rise to power, so I think you’re right to notice those similarities. Some quotes:

Tyrion wore a doublet of black velvet covered with golden scrollwork, thigh-high boots that added three inches to his height, a chain of rubies and lions' heads. But the gash across his face was raw and red, and his nose was a hideous scab. "You are very beautiful, Sansa," he told her.  (ASOS, Sansa III)

Ramsay Bolton stood beneath them, clad in high boots of soft grey leather and a black velvet doublet slashed with pink silk and glittering with garnet teardrops. A smile danced across his face. "Who comes?" His lips were moist, his neck red above his collar. "Who comes before the god?"

-----

After a moment of silent prayer, the man and woman rose again. Ramsay undid the cloak that Theon had slipped about his bride's shoulders moments before, the heavy white wool cloak bordered in grey fur, emblazoned with the direwolf of House Stark. In its place he fastened a pink cloak, spattered with red garnets like those upon his doublet. On its back was the flayed man of the Dreadfort done in stiff red leather, grim and grisly. (ADWD, The Prince of Winterfell)

There’s a comment of garnets being more affordable than rubies, so that may be why they’re used here, and that’s why I think Tyrion and the Lannisters comment on this from the Targ angle, and Ramsay mainly from the ambitious bastard side. It gives us commentary on both those aspects of Jon’s identity.

We also have the confirmation of what Martin is doing with the black and red colors elsewhere:

"They will do well enough, I suppose," he told Haldon. "The camp is only three miles south." The Shy Maid would have gotten them there more quickly, but he preferred to keep Harry Strickland ignorant of where he and the prince had been. Nor did he relish the prospect of splashing through the shallows to climb some muddy riverbank. That sort of entrance might serve for a sellsword and his son, but not for a great lord and his prince.         

When the lad emerged from the cabin with Lemore by his side, Griff looked him over carefully from head to heel. The prince wore sword and dagger, black boots polished to a high sheen, a black cloak lined with blood-red silk. With his hair washed and cut and freshly dyed a deep, dark blue, his eyes looked blue as well. At his throat he wore three huge square-cut rubies on a chain of black iron, a gift from Magister Illyrio. Red and black. Dragon colors. That was good. "You look a proper prince," he told the boy. "Your father would be proud if he could see you."                 

Young Griff ran his fingers through his hair. "I am sick of this blue dye. We should have washed it out."  (ADWD, The Lost Lord)

In contrast to the Targ black and red, Martin uses white and red for Jon a lot. We’ve joked about him being Snow White because if you look at his chapters/references to him, Martin loves the combo, crimson on ivory, blood on snow....it’s everywhere. There have been metas written about how this connects Jon to Weirwoods via his direwolf who is white with red eyes, and of course, Sansa who also resembles it.

This all, the contrast with Targs and the indication of who he is, begins pretty early on:

The pommel was a hunk of pale stone weighted with lead to balance the long blade. It had been carved into the likeness of a snarling wolf's head, with chips of garnet set into the eyes. The grip was virgin leather, soft and black, as yet unstained by sweat or blood. The blade itself was a good half foot longer than those Jon was used to, tapered to thrust as well as slash, with three fullers deeply incised in the metal. Where Ice was a true two-handed greatsword, this was a hand-and-a-halfer, sometimes named a "bastard sword." Yet the wolf sword actually seemed lighter than the blades he had wielded before. When Jon turned it sideways, he could see the ripples in the dark steel where the metal had been folded back on itself again and again. "This is Valyrian steel, my lord," he said wonderingly. His father had let him handle Ice often enough; he knew the look, the feel.

----

They had moved him back to his old cell in tumbledown Hardin's Tower after the fire, and it was there he returned. Ghost was curled up asleep beside the door, but he lifted his head at the sound of Jon's boots. The direwolf's red eyes were darker than garnets and wiser than men. Jon knelt, scratched his ear, and showed him the pommel of the sword. "Look. It's you." (AGOT, Jon VIII)

Rhaegar and Dany are presented as true dragons unlike our boy:

They had come together at the ford of the Trident while the battle crashed around them, Robert with his warhammer and his great antlered helm, the Targaryen prince armored all in black. On his breastplate was the three-headed dragon of his House, wrought all in rubies that flashed like fire in the sunlight. The waters of the Trident ran red around the hooves of their destriers as they circled and clashed, again and again, until at last a crushing blow from Robert's hammer stove in the dragon and the chest beneath it. 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.  (AGOT, Eddard III)

And saw her brother Rhaegar, mounted on a stallion as black as his armor. Fire glimmered red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. "The last dragon," Ser Jorah's voice whispered faintly. "The last, the last." Dany lifted his polished black visor. The face within was her own. (AGOT, Daenerys IX)

The cream-and-gold dragon was suckling at her left breast, the green-and-bronze at the right. Her arms cradled them close. The black-and-scarlet beast was draped across her shoulders, its long sinuous neck coiled under her chin. When it saw Jorah, it raised its head and looked at him with eyes as red as coals. (AGOT, Daenerys X)

And yes, the ruby/fire/blood thing is bad, not positive as we see with the additional comments Martin makes on this:

His hands were shaking, but he made himself be strong. A maester of the Citadel must not be afraid. The wine was sour on his tongue. He let the empty cup drop from his fingers to shatter on the floor. "He does have power here, my lord," the woman said. "And fire cleanses." At her throat, the ruby shimmered redly. (ACOK, Prologue)

Melisandre was robed all in scarlet satin and blood velvet, her eyes as red as the great ruby that glistened at her throat as if it too were afire. (ACOK, Davos I)

As he neared, she saw that Stannis wore a crown of red gold with points fashioned in the shape of flames. (ACOK, Catelyn III)

King Joffrey sat above them all, amongst the blades and barbs of the Iron Throne. He was in crimson samite, his black mantle studded with rubies, on his head his heavy golden crown. (ACOK, Sansa VIII)

"Some smaller than others." Valyria. It was written that on the day of Doom every hill for five hundred miles had split asunder to fill the air with ash and smoke and fire, blazes so hot and hungry that even the dragons in the sky were engulfed and consumed. Great rents had opened in the earth, swallowing palaces, temples, entire towns. Lakes boiled or turned to acid, mountains burst, fiery fountains spewed molten rock a thousand feet into the air, red clouds rained down dragonglass and the black blood of demons, and to the north the ground splintered and collapsed and fell in on itself and an angry sea came rushing in. The proudest city in all the world was gone in an instant, its fabled empire vanished in a day, the Lands of the Long Summer scorched and drowned and blighted.                 

An empire built on blood and fire. The Valyrians reaped the seed they had sown. (ADWD, Tyrion VIII)

We know this is also the story of House Targaryen. Dany will go full Targ and end her house forever. Aegon, even if he ultimately rejects the path of his family, likely will die at her hands because of the Targ habit of killing other Targs. And AGOT already told us Jon will not follow the Targ path because Martin is doing something with his ruby vs garnet thing:

    

As he entered his lord father's solar a few moments later, he heard a voice saying, ". . . cherrywood for the scabbards, bound in red leather and ornamented with a row of lion's-head studs in pure gold. Perhaps with garnets for the eyes . . ."       "Rubies," Lord Tywin said. "Garnets lack the fire."         (ASOS, Tyrion IV)   

As for the guys betrothed to/marrying Stark girls (or a girl believed to be) wearing Targy colors, no idea what that could mean!

Thank you for pointing those contrasts out, anon!

[the-californicationist]

Goldfish (SanSan AU) - 5/8

Warnings: descriptions of abuse, canon-mentioned abuse and domestic violence, mention of ramsay bolton, modern au, oral and vaginal sex

Sansa had never imagined the vast difference that existed between a man who wanted her for her body and a man who wanted her for her soul. It was as if she had never truly been desired until right now, being crushed in Sandor’s enormous arms on his leather sofa, its frame creaking and popping as he pressed her to his lap. She felt overwhelmed by him, expecting him to pull away at any moment, waiting for him to bark orders or tell her to move in a different way, directing her for his pleasure. But he didn’t. He was like a starving man at a feast, gluttonous and messy. The wetness of her mouth gleamed as it ran into the coarse, black hair of his beard. Shameless. 

In spite of his obvious desire, she began to feel the doubt seep in at the edges of this experience. Eventually, this kissing would turn into fondling, and that fondling would lead to him peeling off her blouse, revealing her scars. He’d have to stop then, and he’d need to acknowledge them. His reaction would make her acknowledge them. Or worse, he’d stop. And then it would end. She wasn’t sure she could handle his response in either scenario. 

She pulled back from his mouth, and undeterred, he began to suck fiercely at the soft skin of her neck, his hot tongue melting into her deliciously. He was hard as a stone beneath her, and as she rocked back and forth against him, rolling her hips to tease him, she could feel him struggling to release some of the tormenting pressure. 

Sansa grabbed his face, stopping his ministrations, and he gazed up at her, confused. Slowly, as if suddenly unsure, she bent to kiss his lips as softly as she could, tasting his breath as he let go of a long sigh. She untangled herself and sank to the ground between his knees, focused now on unwrapping him.

“Sansa…” his voice was ragged. As he stared down at her, he looked like he was in disbelief. 

He had grabbed her hands as she plucked his button out of its hole. 

“Sansa, you -”

“Sit,” she interrupted him, her voice a little harsher than she had intended for it to be, “Sit on your hands, Sandor.”

She waited, her eyes boring into him, watching as he registered her command and began to comply. He didn’t ask why; he simply followed her orders. Good dog.

As she returned to the buttons of his pants, his head fell back against the couch, and he had shut his eyes tight, as if in pain. His breaths were measured, but his cock throbbed as she worked, waiting for her to pull it from its prison. 

Finally, at the end of a long, whirring zipper, he was free. His cock stood proudly in front of her face, unsteady as his blood pounded through it. The soft covering of his foreskin looked like velvet. She looked at how his swollen veins wrapped around him like vines, leading up to a large, pink head, already drooling for her. 

Her first touch at the base of his shaft make him suck air through his clenched teeth, his head still pinned to the back of the couch. She gripped him, rubbing up and down his whole length, watching as his panting increased. Still, he sat on his hands, and still, he would not look at her. But, then, as she bent it downward toward her mouth, his eyes snapped open and he peered down at her, his mouth open in shock. She smiled slightly, catching his stare, before spreading the precome around his cockhead with her lips, painting with it across his skin. 

He let out a loud groan, barring his teeth again, growling through his closed jaw,

“Sansa, fuck!”

She ignored him, sucking his head into her mouth and using her hollowed cheeks to give him that wet friction he needed. As she worked, she watched him start to come apart. He wanted to move his hands so badly, his elbows and forearms fighting to keep them planted on the seat. His shoulders, huge as they were, pulled and strained in their sockets as he tried to control himself. 

She licked him, long and slow, up to his head from his base, staring him down throughout her teasing. 

“Little bird, your mouth, gods, your mouth. Put me in again, please. Sansa, please.”

It was nice to be in control, she thought to herself, especially of something as powerful as The Hound. She soothed him, swallowing him deeply, watching him panic at having gotten his wish. 

“Yes, yes, yes…mmm, fuck. Yes. Fuck yes,” he humped up into her mouth, not as tame as he could have been, but still not removing his hands, obeying her order. 

She let him find a rhythm, and as he pressed his hips up and down, she watched the way his thigh muscles rippled inside his pants, his thick waist bending and twisting to try and stuff himself into her throat. He became frantic, his moans becoming louder and faster, crying out nonsense at her. Praising her. 

Then, just when she thought he couldn’t get any bigger, his cock strained, and he froze in place before beginning to shudder and tremble with ecstasy. His orgasm rattled through his body like lightning, and his come filled her mouth, running down his shaft and her chin in thick, lurid streams. She opened up wide for him to see it coating her tongue, and she was rewarded by his furrowed brow, eyes full of hungry pleasure. 

Spent, he gasped for air, gazing at her as she licked him clean through hooded eyes,

“I never thought I’d have you, and now you come in here and use that mouth on me. Fuck, Sansa. That was so good.”

Basking in his compliments, she climbed back into his lap, tugging his arms around her, breaking the spell. He kissed her then, deeply, as if hoping to taste himself on her lips. She kissed him back, enjoying him for just a while longer, but with every moment that his excitement rekindled itself, she lost more and more of her nerve. 

“Sandor,” she whispered between his kisses, “I should go.”

“Mm, what?” He hadn’t fully registered her message, “Go?”

“Yeah,” she ran her hands through his hair on the scarred and unblemished sides of his scalp, scratching him gently with her nails, “I’m staying with Arya until I can sell my old place, and she’s probably going to start calling me if I don’t show up.”

He pulled her to him in an earnest hug, burying his nose in her hair, obviously fretting over her, worried about her sudden desire to leave. She could tell he was not buying her excuse for a moment, and she started to formulate a better explanation. But, to her surprise, he didn’t fight her. He didn’t insist. He kissed her again and nodded his head, whispering reservedly,

“Alright, little bird, if that’s what you want. I’ll take you home.”

[the-red-mafia]

The Lost

The whole mafia expected Velvet to be upset following her mysterious conversation with Zaeor. What Maroon and Thorn didn't expect, though, was her running off to break into the B.A.D. mansion all on her own. The two scramble to follow them and the trio unite to search for answers within the walls of Velvet's childhood home. Also available on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/TheRedMafia Next Update: [Updated] Word Count: 5910

A day after “The Thief”

Maroon knocked on Velvet’s door for the third time, anxiety taking over them. 

“Velvet, I know you’re upset at Zaeor, but can you just let me know you’re okay?” they pleaded, “No one’s seen you since dinner last night.” The older teen had been locked in their room since they had gotten back from the UPS headquarters, only emerging after Zaeor had left to grab food. The god had returned about half an hour ago and seemed completely unbothered by her lack of presence. 

“They’re too frustrated to be useful right now,” he had told Maroon, “It’s one of their flaws.” Maroon had ascended the stairs anyway, and now stood in front of the closed, silent door. 

“Velvet, I really don’t want to do this. But I need to make sure you’re okay.” Maroon took a deep breath and grew a mushroom on the other side of the door. It fidgeted with the lock before a loud clicking sound echoed in the hallway. The teen opened the door, the mushroom melting back into the floorboards. 

The window across the room was open, letting in a cold breeze that sent goosebumps down their arm. The red and black comforter of her bed was still tucked in as if it hadn’t been touched in a few hours. Several empty energy drink cans sat on the bedside table. Maroon walked over to them, spotting a handwritten note set precariously on the edge. They picked it up.

Velvet’s handwriting, they thought, I can’t tell what it says. Maroon returned back to the doorway.

“Thorn, can you come up here?” they called out. Footsteps thudded against the stairs before the other teen appeared down the hallway. Their purple flannel matched Maroon’s sweater, which still made them smile slightly. Maroon took a deep breath. 

“Velvie giving you trouble?” He asked, smirking. 

“No, they’re not in here.” Thorn’s eyes widened.

“They’re not?” Maroon stepped out of the doorway, letting Thorn pass. Thorn looked around the room for a few moments. 

“Huh. Where’d she go then?” 

“That’s what I need your help with,” they replied, holding out the note, “I found this on the bedside table. Can you read it for me?” Their friend nodded, taking the small piece of paper. Ae looked at it for several seconds before shaking aer head.

“It’s in some other language. Latin, if I had to take a guess. I can’t read this.” 

“Try and read it out loud, then. I’ll translate.” Thorn let out a groan.

“Gods, I hate reading Latin.” Maroon chuckled and sat down on the perfectly made bed. Thorn sat down next to them.

“Here goes nothing,” Thorn mumbled, “‘Zaeor, apud Unorem consilium quaero.’” Maroon’s eyes widened. “She’s going to Unor’s base?” they breathed. “Noli sequi. Necesse est ut sōla id faciam. Te vocābō posteā’. And then they just signed their name.” Maroon’s heartbeat raced as they took the note from Thorn. The older teen looked up at them.

“So what are we doing?” it asked. Maroon was quiet for a moment.

“We’re going after them,” they said, standing, “They probably took the Umbrella, but we can take Rhyme’s ship.” Thorn nodded, standing as well. 

“I’ll go get the others. We can leave ASAP-” 

“No,” Maroon interrupted, “‘Non sequi’. She doesn’t want anyone to follow her.”

“I feel like what she wants doesn’t matter in this case,” Thorn muttered. Maroon brushed the comment off and turned to the door.

“The two of us will go. What if they’re in danger? We have to help.” 

“I mean, I’m with you on that part. Even if it’s Velvet,” Thorn began, “But I don’t know how comfortable I am with just taking Rhyme’s ship.” 

“I don’t see another option.” Thorn closed their eyes for several moments.

“Yeah, okay. If you’re sure. Let’s go.” 

Velvet looked up and down the hallway before sprinting into the next door. They shut the door quietly and took a deep breath.

Just a few more offices until his, she thought, Hopefully I can find something before then. They were picking up a folder off of the desk in front of them when a loud alarm began to blare. Velvet immediately set the folder down, but the sound continued. 

Trapped folder? What’s in here- She picked the folder up again when the door slammed open. Velvet quickly threw Kil-layye Mo’ore towards it before turning around. A familiar squeak hit her ears. 

“Maroon?” They breathed. Maroon waved slightly, standing up. The door shut, revealing Thorn behind it. 

“Oh it's our lucky day, huh?” the prince began, “She was behind the first door we checked.” Velvet balled their fists and glared at Thorn. 

“What the hell are you two doing here?” 

“We found your note,” Maroon answered. Velvet’s eyes widened. 

“What? It was in Latin, how’d you-” Velvet looked Maroon in the eyes, who tugged slightly on the sleeves of their red sweater. 

“How long have you been able to understand Latin?” the assassin demanded.

“About 500 years,” Maroon mumbled quietly. Velvet groaned loudly, summoning her sword back to her hand. 

“Of fucking course. Listen, I don’t know what you’re doing-”

“We wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Maroon began, “You were upset last night and then suddenly you’re breaking into B.A.D. and- I just wanted to help.” 

“And I’m here too,” Thorn added.

“Ugh, okay. But I don’t need your help. I’m fine on my own.” Maroon placed a hand on Velvet’s shoulder and smiled.

“I know. But this way, we can make sure.” Velvet looked them up and down before sighing. 

“Fine, whatever. Did you two set off the alarm?” Thorn sheepishly raised aer hand.

“That one’s my bad. I didn’t realise the cameras were on.” Velvet blinked a few times. 

“How…what? Why would they be off?” 

“I don’t know!” Velvet groaned again and sheathed Kil-layye Mo’ore. 

“You’re an idiot, frūx.”

“Hey, we’re here to sav-” Maroon cut them off.

“Is there any way to shut it off?” 

There’s an off switch in Unor’s office, but that’s way too far away to reach without getting caught right now. Where’s the other one… Velvet’s eyes widened and they quickly turned to the door. 

“Follow me. We’ve got to go visit my mom.”

Solana sat awkwardly at the breakfast table in between Mad and Rhyme, taking a bite of her eggs. Their companions refused to meet each other's eyes. Rhyme pushed his eggs back and forth on his plate while Mad looked towards the ceiling.

“So,” the elf tried, “Those kids, huh?” 

“Mhm,” Rhyme mumbled. Mad stayed silent. Solana waited a few moments before setting her fork down. 

“Rhyme, how far do you think they could’ve gotten?” Rhyme looked up at them. 

“If they figured out the boosters, they could be two galaxies away already.” Solana sighed. 

“Let’s hope Zaeor can find them soon, then.” Silence took over the room again. Mad eventually stood and took Solana’s empty plate. 

“I’m going to my room,” Mad stated. Solana quickly stood up and jumped over the counter, blocking its exit.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said, crossing his arms. Mad looked them up and down. 

“Do you need something, Solana?” 

“More like you two need to talk,” the elf replied, “Now sit your robot ass back down.” Mad sighed.

“Solana, it’s really none of your business-”

“It’s either I do this, or Velvet does it when the teens get back. And I think you’d prefer me.” The droid was silent for a moment before returning to their seat. Solana smiled and hopped back on the counter, taking a seat in the middle.

“So, are you two gonna be able to mediate yourselves like adults, or do I have to sit here?” Rhyme looked up at Mad, who looked away. Solana rolled his eyes.

“Sitting here it is then,” they crossed their right leg over their left, “What happened at Eliza’s?” 

“Solana, really? Everything is fine-”

“Clearly not, if Rhyme here got as upset as she did on the UPS mission.” Rhyme’s cheeks became a light pink and she sunk deeper into her seat. Mad looked at her.

“Rhyme? What are they talking about?” The thief took a deep breath.

“Mad, I’m really really sorry,” he blurted out, “I fucked up really bad and I hurt you and I’d take it back if I could but I can’t and I just…” His voice faded out.

“You just…?” 

“I…don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. You’re…well…” The teen looked up at Solana, who motioned for her to continue. 

“You’re the only person who has cared about me in, god, 5 years?” He chuckled nervously, “You’re my only friend. I fucked up, I know that, and I’m sorry. And I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Because I don’t think I could handle losing you.” Mad was silent as it stared at him. The two made eye contact, or as much eye contact as they could considering one was a robot. A minute passed before Mad spoke. 

“Rhyme…” they began, “What you did…in front of me…it really fucked me up.” Solana’s eyes widened. 

I don’t think I’ve ever heard Mad curse before, they thought, glancing at Rhyme. The teen seemed to be having a similar thought. 

“I know, and I’m sorry-”

“I’m not done,” Mad interrupted, “I can’t look at you without seeing her bleeding out on the floor over and over again. My programming keeps analysing it, looking for some way for me to change it. But I can’t. And you can’t change what you’ve done.” Rhyme looked to the floor, but nodded. Solana frowned.

“Mad?” the elf asked. Mad groaned.

“Could you two let me finish my thought?” 

“Shit- sorry.” Mad sighed and stood up. It took Rhyme’s hand and pulled her up to her feet. Rhyme’s eyes widened as he looked at them. 

“As upset and…frustrated as I am about it, I think I’m more upset at the situation than you,” it mumbled, holding both of her hands, “I mean, I’m still upset, but I care about you too. And…I can’t lose you too.” Solana smirked. 

“S-so, do you forgive me?” Rhyme asked, the light pink returning to his face. Mad chuckled slightly.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Rhyme smiled brightly and pulled them into a hug. 

And that’s how you do it, Solana thought, Damn, if only that worked on Velvet. My life would be so much easier. 

“Don’t do it again,” Mad added before glancing up at Solana, “But that’s the most genuine apology I’ve heard in my entire time being with the mafia.” The elf rolled their eyes. 

“Hey, don’t look at me. What do I have to apologise for?” 

“My screwdriver.” Rhyme suppressed a laugh while Solana glared at the robot. 

“I didn’t fucking take your screwdriver.”

“I don’t believe Velvet snuck past all four of us without help.” 

“She’s the best assassin in the universe, of course she can!” Rhyme finally couldn’t keep it in anymore and broke out in loud laughter. 

“Have you seen her?” Rhyme pushed their face into Mad’s shirt to muffle her laughter. Mad stared down at him, wide eyes taking over the previously blank screen. Solana raised an eyebrow and jumped to the other side of the counter. 

“I think that’s my cue to go,” she said, gesturing to the door, “I’ll go check on Wyatt.”

“Solana-” The elf sprinted to the stairs, leaving the two of them in the kitchen alone.

 

Nala took a deep breath as she ran a brush through her hair. She pulled a section in front of her shoulder and stared into the mirror on her vanity. She was halfway through braiding it when there was a knock at the door. Nala frowned and checked her watch.

Unor’s not supposed to be here until 11:30, she thought, It’s only 10. 

“Who is it?” She called out. 

“Tua fīlia, mater,” A familiar voice answered. Nala’s eyes went wide. 

“Velvet?” She breathed. She quickly stood and opened the door, revealing her 15-year-old daughter in front of her. Two of her teammates, Maroon and Thorn if she remembered correctly, stood behind her. Nala pulled Velvet into a big hug. 

“Oh, Velvet,” she breathed, hugging her tightly. 

“Hi Mom. Can we come in?” Nala let go and smiled. 

“Of course.” The teens entered the room, Velvet shutting the door behind her.

“Hey Velvet’s mom,” The redhead, Thorn, said. Nala waved at him. 

“Hello, Thorn was it?” The teen nodded, so Nala turned to the other one, “And you’re Maroon?” 

“Mhm,” Maroon answered. She smiled.

“It’s lovely to see you two again. How have you been?”

“Good-” Velvet walked to the other side of the room, where a large computer set up sat. Nala looked at her daughter.

“What are you doing, Velvet?”

“Shutting down the alarm, give me a sec.” Nala frowned. 

“You set off an alarm?” Velvet groaned.

“No, those asinī did.” 

Asinī? I don’t think I know that one.

“Well I’m sorry I don’t know the entire B.A.D. mansion by heart,” Thorn apologised sarcastically, “I didn’t grow up here.”

“I didn’t fucking ask you to come-”

“Language,” Nala corrected. Velvet groaned.

“Sorry, mom. I didn’t ask you two to follow me. In fact, I think I explicitly said don’t.” 

“In our defence, you told Zaeor not to follow you,” Maroon chimed in. Velvet turned and glared at them. 

“‘Cause I was under the impression no one else spoke Latin. I guess I’m learning a lot today.” Nala chuckled and stood next to Velvet in the chair. The teen typed quickly and eventually got into the main security system. She paused on the screen for a few seconds.

“Left side, dear,” Nala stated. Velvet pressed the button and the bright ‘System Normal’ status blinked green. 

“Thanks, mater.” She clicked out of the security but pulled up the files application.

“What are you three doing here anyway?” Nala asked, turning to look at Thorn and Maroon as well, “And why didn’t you want your teammates to come with you?”

“Because she’s an angsty bitch,” Thorn mumbled. 

“Language.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Bolton.” Nala chuckled.

“Please, just Nala.”

“I’m looking into some information about something we found at a UPS headquarters. Do you know anything about Unor going to the station on Kenip?” Nala thought for a moment.

“I know he went there, but I’m not sure what for. I think it was just a routine drop-off he wanted to go on.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Velvet mumbled, “What about December 9th? Have you heard anything about something then?” At the same time, they typed the date into the search bar.

“That’s the day of our winter fundraiser.”

“Fundraiser?” Thorn asked, “Aren’t you guys like, rich?” Maroon put a hand on Thorn’s shoulder.

“Thorn-” Nala laughed and waved a hand.

“It’s alright, Maroon. It’s a fundraiser for a missing kid organisation, part of my plan to improve B.A.D.’s public image. It was also originally planned to help look for Velvet, but…” she gestured to Velvet, who rolled her eyes. 

“That’s sweet, how you never gave up looking for her,” Maroon said, smiling, “From the way Velvet used to talk about her parents, I thought you two didn’t get along.” Nala frowned and looked down at her daughter. Velvet, however, turned to glare at Maroon.

“I never said that.”

“I know. I just thought since you hated Unor so much-” Velvet looked back at the screen. 

“She’s just as much of a victim as we are.” 

“...we?” Maroon looked towards the floor, and Thorn took their hand. 

“That’s actually another thing I should look for,” Velvet mumbled under her breath. They typed Maroon’s name into the search bar.

“Velvet, that’s not what we came for,” Thorn said, “We don’t need to-”

“Shut it, Thorn.” The screen loaded for a moment before a grey ‘No Results’ tab popped up. Velvet sighed. 

“That’s about what I expected. Maroon, what was the name on the folder again?” 

“Project Rapio.” Nala paused.

“Now that name I’ve heard before,” she stated. Velvet looked up at her.

“What do you know?” 

“It’s been Unor’s new project for the past few weeks,” Nala sat down on her bed, “He didn’t tell me much, just that he would be redirecting resources to it for the next few weeks.”

“So the folder was right,” Velvet breathed. 

“What folder?” Velvet stood and turned to her teammates. 

“I have to search Unor’s office. Are you two coming with me?” Nala grabbed her wrist.

“Now wait just a second, young lady,” she said. Velvet looked at her.

“What, mater?” 

“First, drop the attitude. That’s no way to talk to your mother.” Thorn stifled a laugh as Velvet broke her wrist out of Nala’s grip.

“Sorry.”

“Secondly, Unor’s in a meeting there right now. You’d get caught immediately.” Velvet groaned.

“Do you know when he’ll be done?”

“11. Then he’s meeting me here at 11:30 so we can go make plans for the fundraiser.” Velvet mumbled something that Nala couldn’t make out. Maroon took her hand, drawing her attention. 

“We could stay in here until she leaves with him?” they asked, turning to Nala, “If you’re okay with that, Nala.” She smiled.

“Of course I’m okay with that. I’d never pass up a chance to hang out with my lovely daughter.” She pulled Velvet into another hug, one that she tried to wrestle out of this time. Nala won out, of course. She always did. 

“So, uh,” Mad began, looking down at Rhyme, “What was Solana talking about with the mission yesterday?” Rhyme lifted his head to look at the ground.

“Oh- uh- that was nothing.” 

“I can’t help but think that’s a lie.” 

“It’s not!” Rhyme said quickly, looking up at them, “I was just overwhelmed and thought you hated me.” 

“You know I can just text Maroon and ask, right?” Rhyme let out a strained laugh.

“Maroon won’t respond, they’re avoiding us.” Mad’s screen displayed a smirk.

“Maybe they’re ignoring you.” Rhyme narrowed her eyes. 

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“Maybe,” it said, “Maybe they talked to me before they left and I told them how to fly your ship.”

“Mad!” The droid laughed. 

“Why would you do that?” Rhyme demanded, “Where are they going, anyhow?” 

“That part they didn’t tell me. They just said Velvet ran off and they wanted to go after her. So I told them.” 

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t just tell them to take all of us,” Rhyme replied. 

“They said Velvet had said she didn’t want to be followed. I figured they could handle it.”

“But my baby-” Mad laughed again as Rhyme fake-pouted. 

“Your baby will be fine,” Mad replied.

“Well yeah, you’re right here,” Rhyme mumbled. Mad looked down at her.

“What was that?” Rhyme’s heartbeat raced and he blushed.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Rhyme looked down at her hands, still in Mad’s. He quickly pulled them back and stuffed them into his pockets. Mad pulled out their phone and quickly typed a message. After a few seconds, it beeped. 

“Oh, they found Velvet. They’re with them and their mom now.” 

“Nala’s in on it?” Rhyme asked, “I shouldn’t be surprised, actually. She was the nicer of the two.” Mad nodded.

“I think she’s one of the only people I’ve heard Velvet talk about positively.” Another ding and a smirk appeared on Mad’s screen.

“Maroon said whatever you said yesterday was important.” Rhyme’s heart skipped a beat.

Dammit, Maroon. Fucking traitor. 

“I don’t think so,” Rhyme replied, crossing her arms. 

“Hold on, they just texted what you said.” Rhyme jumped forward, knocking the phone out of the droid's hand. Rhyme tripped over Mad’s foot, falling onto Mad. The two landed on the ground, Mad laughing loudly. Rhyme glared at the phone. 

“I was joking, Rhyme, I didn’t even ask them. I was just getting an update,” Mad said, looking up at her. Rhyme switched his glare to them.

“Scared the shit outta me, strange robot.” 

“Although, I might text them about it now considering that’s how you’re reacting.” Rhyme held Mad’s shoulders down and shook his head. 

“Can’t do that if I keep you here away from your phone.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Mad chuckled, “Rhyme, I’m a robot.” 

“Shit.” Mad laughed again, a bright smile appearing on their screen. 

“I’m just kidding. Maroon probably wouldn’t tell me, anyway.” Rhyme sighed, taking her hands off Mad’s shoulders.

“Good.”

“I am curious, though,” Mad added, “You don’t have to tell me, but I do wanna know.” 

“Maybe I’ll tell you. Eventually.” Mad displayed the eyes emoji, which promptly spun around. Rhyme stared at it before breaking out into laughter.

“What?” The droid asked. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Rolling my eyes.” That response only made the thief laugh harder. She set her forehead on their chest while she laughed. 

“Who…who told you to do that?” he asked through laughs. 

“Thorn. Why, does it look stupid?” Rhyme shook his head.

“No. Never stop doing that.” Mad shrugged as the thief sat up.

“If you say so.” The two looked at each other for a few moments. Mad’s screen changed to a smile, causing Rhyme to frown. It switched to a question mark.

“What’s wrong?”

“What did I just say?” Mad’s screen went blank.

“Huh? Oh- you meant-” Rhyme laughed again, shaking her head.

“No, I’m kidding.” Mad’s screen displayed the rolling eyes again anyways.

“Better?” it asked. 

“Better.” Mad laughed before looking Rhyme in the eyes.

“Can I stand up now?” Rhyme’s face went bright red and he quickly scrambled to get off of the droid. 

“Sorry-” 

“It’s okay. Are you gonna finish your breakfast?” Mad asked, gesturing to the full plate. 

“Right, yeah. Kinda got interrupted during that, huh?”

“That would mean you actually started eating.” Rhyme’s eyes widened. 

“I thought you weren’t looking at me earlier?” Mad shook their TV.

“My camera was looking at you, the TV wasn’t.”

“‘Course, how silly of me.” Mad nodded as the thief sat down at the table. It joined her, this time sitting to her right. Rhyme smiled and took a bite.

“How is it?” 

“Perfect,” Rhyme answered.

Just like you.

Velvet led the way down the hallway, Thorn and Maroon following behind. Nala had cleared out the area a few minutes before, but Velvet had Kil-layye Mo’ore drawn anyway. They passed down a set of brown double doors with several stickers on it. Thorn looked at them: a rainbow, stars, and the letter c sat in the middle. It looked like there were more letters, but they had fallen off. 

“What’s in there?” Thorn asked. Velvet didn’t even turn around to look at the door before responding.

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” 

“Drop it, frūx,” Velvet hissed. The prince put their hands up. 

“Right, got it.” The trio walked for another minute before Velvet stopped in front of another set of double doors. These ones were blank, and a deeper brown than the other ones. Velvet took a deep breath. 

“We’re here.” Maroon looked down at her. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Velvet?”

“Of course I’m fucking not. But we don’t have a choice, now do we?” 

“I’m sure we could figure something else out. We could ask Nala-” 

“No,” Velvet stated coldly, “She’s endangered herself enough today. I’m not letting her get hurt again. Let’s just get this over with.” Maroon frowned as Velvet pushed the big doors open, Kil-layye Mo’ore raised. They creaked slightly but revealed an office with a large black desk ordained with various trinkets and papers. A laptop sat on top of it, open. There were three chairs around the desk: one on the side of the laptop and two with their backs towards the door. 

Paintings lined the walls depicting old buildings and other people, presumably older members of the Bolton family considering their similarity to Velvet. The walls were a deep, blood red with black sigils lining the middle. Thorn pointed them out.

“Any idea what those say?” He asked out loud. 

“Don’t look at them for too long. They’re a form of security.” Thorn quickly looked away.

“Unor’s got a lot of magic access for a mortal,” ae mumbled. 

“It’s really not that surprising. He’s not that far off from becoming a fake god.” That sentence caused Maroon and Thorn to stop dead in their tracks. 

“...what?” Maroon breathed. Velvet turned back to look at them. Her red hair fell out of the clip, so she adjusted it while she talked. 

“You didn’t know?”

“I think you conveniently forgot to mention that part,” Thorn replied through gritted teeth. Velvet just shrugged. 

“Well now you know.” 

“What do you mean ‘not that far off’?” Maroon asked. Velvet sat down in the main desk chair and typed something into the laptop.

“Same fucking password, what a fucking idiot,” they mumbled, “I mean he’s not far off. He’s got four and a half of the five souls he needs, so he’s almost there.” 

“Souls?” Thorn demanded, “How exactly does one become a fake god?” Velvet groaned.

“Did I really forget to explain this?” 

“I wouldn’t be asking otherwise.”

“I don’t know, you’re you,” the assassin mumbled, “To become a fake god, someone needs to collect one soul of each type. Unor’s got four and a half.” Maroon took a step forward. 

“Half?” Velvet refocused on the laptop, typing more into the keyboard. Maroon opened their mouth to say something more but stayed quiet. 

“Damn it, this is wiped clean,” they mumbled, “It’s almost like…” Thorn stared at her.

“If you say what I think you’re going to say, Velvie…”

“He knows we’re here,” Maroon said in a small voice. Velvet quickly stood from the chair and joined the duo.

“How could he know we’re here?” Thorn asked, “There’s no way.”

“He must have found out about the UPS break-in and put two and two together,” Velvet answered. They pushed the doors open again, this time a loud alarm blaring again. 

“So that whole planning thing with Nala was bullshit?” 

“Maybe not. I hope it wasn’t. I hope he’s not here and is just hoping his guards will be able to capture us.” 

“The guards that are also him,” Thorn muttered. Velvet nodded and stepped out into the hallway, making a run for it back where they came. The other two quickly followed.

“If we can get back to Nala’s room, could we-” 

“Too dangerous,” Velvet interrupted Maroon, “There’s another security panel in the library, but that’s way further. I don’t know if we’ll make it.”

“And there’s no chance they’re gonna fall for the false alarm from Nala for a second time,” Thorn added. Velvet nodded. Footsteps began thudding behind them, voices shouting in various languages Thorn didn’t know. Velvet glanced backward.

“One of you, make a wall.” Thorn obliged, a wall of vines growing and blocking the hallway behind them. They added a horizontal layer as well, just in case. In front of them, a large metal door slammed shut. Velvet quickly stopped in their tracks, breathing heavily.

“Fuck,” they said. 

“W-what’s that mean?” Maroon asked. 

“Full lockdown’s been activated. We can’t get out that way. Or any way, for that matter.” 

“Then what’s the plan?” Thorn demanded. Velvet glared at him.

“I’m fucking working on it, Thorn.” The voices behind the vine wall grew louder as Velvet scanned the hallway. A few feet ahead stood the sticker-covered doors once again. The assassin’s eyes locked on it right as Thorn’s did.

 

Maroon looked at their two friends as they both looked ahead. They followed their gaze to the door from earlier, the one Velvet had dismissed. 

“Fuck, okay,” she breathed, running forward. Maroon and Thorn followed. Velvet slowed in front of them and carefully tried the doorknob. The door gave way, warm sunlight fading in from the large bay window on the opposite side of the room. Maroon glanced at Velvet, who had her eyes closed tight. She took a deep breath and, once Maroon and Thorn were inside, shut the door. 

The room was well-lit from the window alone, a pair of blue curtains hanging from the rod above them. The right corner had a large canopy bed, decorated with blue and purple bedsheets. There were four pillows on top and an extra blanket folded neatly at the end. Pictures of butterflies and various star systems sat above the bed, forming a star. 

A large rug was in the middle, a blue flower. The opposite side of the room from the bed had a desk with a textbook open on top of it. The chair was pushed in and a layer of dust had begun to form on the pages. A closet was pushed up against the wall the door was on, slightly ajar. 

Velvet slowly turned around, taking in the scene. Maroon watched as they walked towards the window. 

“Who’s room is this?” Thorn asked, crossing his arms. Velvet sat down at the window, looking out. Maroon walked towards the open textbook. 

“This is- was. This was a friend of mine’s bedroom.” Maroon looked down at the book, wiping the dust off. There sat a name.

“Caran?” Maroon read, “Oh…that’s who Caran was.” Velvet nodded, standing again. 

“Try not to touch anything, okay?” Maroon wiped their hand on their trousers. Velvet joined them at the desk and glanced down at the book. 

“‘Course that’s what he was reading,” they mumbled. Maroon looked down at them.

“What is it?” 

“Algebra.” 

“What’s…algebra?” Velvet stared at them for a few seconds.

“I’ll let Mad handle that one.” Maroon nodded but kept their eyes on Velvet. The assassin slowly opened a drawer and their eyes widened. 

“Jackpot,” they breathed. They pulled out a laptop, similar to the one from Unor’s office. They sat down back at the window and opened it up. Maroon sat next to them and Thorn joined on the other side of Maroon. 

“His laptop?” Thorn asked, “How’s that gonna help?” 

“Unor’s not going to limit a dead person’s access to classified documents. That’s his one weakness: he’s cocky. He killed someone, so there’s no point controlling what they can see.” Maroon’s heart skipped a beat.

“He killed Caran?” Maroon asked.

“Of course he fucking did. Are you even surprised?” 

“...no.” Velvet typed in another passcode and smirked. 

“And we’re in. Project Rapio…” They clicked on a file and quickly scanned it. 

“That looks like the one we found at the UPS,” Maroon commented. Velvet nodded. 

“It is.”

“Anything new?” Thorn asked. Velvet closed the document and opened up the next. 

“I’m looking, give me a minute.” Thorn looked around Maroon to read the screen.

“That’s in English?”

“Yeah. It must be the memo he sent to the lower-ranking operatives. They typically can’t read Latin.” Thorn was quiet for a moment before his eyes widened. 

“Unor’s trying to capture us for one of our souls?” it exclaimed. Velvet slammed the laptop closed and stood. 

“We should get out of here,” she mumbled, “We’ll have to break the window.” Maroon glanced at Thorn, who was staring at Velvet.

“Velvet, did I read that right?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, Thorn.”

Soul? If he already has 4 and a half, why would he want… their eyes locked on Velvet, Oh. 

“Velvet, that half a soul Unor has,” Maroon said quietly, “It’s yours, isn’t it?” Velvet turned back to glare at them.

“So what if it is? It doesn’t change anything.” 

“Oh my gods,” Maroon breathed, “Velvet, I’m so sorry-”

“Is that why you’re so…you?” Thorn asked. Maroon stared down at them.

“Thorn-”

“What? That was the nicest way I could think of.” 

“Just fucking drop it, will you?” Velvet demanded, “It’s not that big of a deal.” She jumped onto the window seat and drew Kil-layye Mo’ore, using the hilt to break the glass. Maroon and Thorn quickly moved out of the way. 

“It is a big deal, though. You’re missing half of your soul, your personality, your…emotions.” Maroon let the last word hang in the air as Velvet sheathed her sword again. Thorn looked between Maroon and Velvet.

“So all this time, I’ve been calling you a bitch for ignoring your emotions,” the prince began, “But you haven’t been. You just haven’t had emotions?” 

“I’m done talking about this with you two. Just forget you ever figured this out, okay?” 

“Velvet, stop.” Maroon grabbed their wrist, forcing them to look back at them. 

“What do you want, fungus?” 

“How long has your soul been broken?” Velvet groaned.

“Are we really going to do this?” 

“The quicker you answer our questions, the quicker we can leave,” Thorn added. Velvet glanced at each of them before sighing.

“Fine. Since shortly after my 14th birthday.” 

Nearly two years, Maroon thought, Dear Ailuj-

“Does Zaeor know?” Velvet scoffed.

“Of course he fucking knows. He’s what stopped him from taking the whole thing.” Maroon’s eyes widened. 

“So that’s what you meant,” Thorn said. The two of them looked towards him.

“What?”

“You keep saying that he saved your life. I thought that was after you started working for him, but it's why you’re working for him.” Velvet rolled her eyes.

“That’s what you choose to focus on?”

She’s been like this since before the mafia was formed. How did no one notice?

“I don’t control where my brain goes, Velvie.”

Does anyone in the mafia know? We…we could’ve…I could’ve…

“Do not fucking call me that, especially-”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Maroon blurted out. Velvet turned to them.

“What do you mean?”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? Me, Mad, anyone. We could’ve helped you sooner.” Velvet narrowed their eyes at them.

“Because there’s no way to help me, Maroon.” The youngest teen’s heart skipped a beat again as they looked at her. 

“There has to be something.”

“There’s not, Zaeor’s checked. I’m stuck like this for the rest of my life.”

“Fuck, that’s morbid,” Thorn muttered. Velvet sent a glare aer way. 

“So is my entire life. Get used to it.” 

“What if Unor was dead?” Maroon asked. The two teens refocused on them, Thorn’s eyes wide.

“What are you talking about, Maroon?” Thorn asked. 

“If Unor was dead, wouldn’t all the souls be released? Couldn’t you get it back then?” Velvet frowned.

“In theory, but there’s no guarantee-”

“But it’s possible?”

“Maroon, are you saying we should-” Velvet cut Thorn off.

“Yeah, I guess it’s possible.”

If killing Unor could fix Velvet’s soul…after everything he’s done, what’s stopping us?

“Then let’s attack Unor first,” Maroon stated, “We’ve been on the defensive this whole time. The day he’s actually planning on attacking us, we attack first. Stage a full assault on this base. Take it over and end this.” Velvet stared at Maroon for several moments. Thorn took their hand but Maroon didn’t take their eyes off of the assassin in front of them. 

“You’re right,” Velvet finally replied, “That’s what we’ll do.” Maroon took a deep breath and nodded. 

“Mushroom, are you sure you want to-”

“Yes. I’m sure.” Velvet held a hand out to Maroon and the three teens stood on the windowsill. Thorn had a concerned look on his face as he stared at Maroon. 

“One of you want to make something to get us down?” Velvet asked. A giant mushroom sprouted from the ground, stopping right in front of them. Maroon led the way onto the pileus.

It’s time to end this.

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

A STORM OF SWORDS

Summary & Foreshadowing Smorgasbord (Part I)

It's that time of year again!

ASOS Part I: UNDER THE CUT

Sansa Stark, Queen in the North

Jon Snow, King in the North

Jon (Aemon?) Snow

Jon the Builder & His Gift

Ahoy Matey! Arya Stark Sails the Ocean Blue

Bran the Broken, King of Westeros

High Septon Rickon?

Pick Your Poison: The Twins Meet Their End in the Mines of Casterly Rock . . . or King's Landing

Tyrion Lannister, (Prisoner?) Hand of the King

In Remembrance: A Look Back at Sandor Clegane's & Ygritte's Greatest Moments

ASOS Part II: CLICK

Dark Daenerys Highlights & Laughs

Let's Dance: Stark vs. Targ

Showdown at the Trident

A Rat in a Maze 🐀🔪

The Usurper's Knife

Bran the Dragonslayer?

Storm x Storm 🦑🖤🐉

ASOS PART III: CLICK

JONSA 🐺❤️❄️

ASOS: PART IV: CLICK

Chapter Transitions

Previous books:

AGOT Summary & Foreshadowing: CLICK

ACOK Summary & Foreshadowing: PART I & PART II

Stumpy note:

If I didn't give you credit for discovering something or if I missed any foreshadowing, please contact me and I'll rectify that.

Once again, I'd like to thank everyone that participated in the reread project. All of you have great observations and comments, I wish I could highlight them all. 🙂

SANSA STARK, QUEEN IN THE NORTH

Sansa's feeling like a crowned fish.

My son ought to take the puff fish for his sigil, if truth be told. He could put a crown on it, the way the Baratheons do their stag, mayhap that would make him happy.

[...]

Sansa's mouth opened and closed. She felt very like a puff fish herself. - Sansa I, ASOS

+.+.+

Queens don't kneel.

His uncle's part went less well. The bride's cloak he held was huge and heavy, crimson velvet richly worked with lions and bordered with gold satin and rubies. No one had thought to bring a stool, however, and Tyrion stood a foot and a half shorter than his bride. As he moved behind her, Sansa felt a sharp tug on her skirt. He wants me to kneel, she realized, blushing. She was mortified. It was not supposed to be this way. She had dreamed of her wedding a thousand times, and always she had pictured how her betrothed would stand behind her tall and strong, sweep the cloak of his protection over her shoulders, and tenderly kiss her cheek as he leaned forward to fasten the clasp.

She felt another tug at her skirt, more insistent. I won't. - Sansa III, ASOS

+.+.+

She would make a good queen.

Tyrion led Sansa around the yard, to perform the necessary courtesies.

She is good at this, he thought, as he watched her tell Lord Gyles that his cough was sounding better, compliment Elinor Tyrell on her gown, and question Jalabhar Xho about wedding customs in the Summer Isles. His cousin Ser Lancel had been brought down by Ser Kevan, the first time he'd left his sickbed since the battle. He looks ghastly. Lancel's hair had turned white and brittle, and he was thin as a stick. Without his father beside him holding him up, he would surely have collapsed. Yet when Sansa praised his valor and said how good it was to see him getting strong again, both Lancel and Ser Kevan beamed. She would have made Joffrey a good queen and a better wife if he'd had the sense to love her. - Tyrion VIII, ASOS

+.+.+

Not kings, monarchs. The first chapter after Sansa escapes King's Landing, Jaime has a question.

"What duties?" said Meryn Trant defensively.

"Keeping the king alive. How many monarchs have you lost since I left the city? Two, is it?" - Jaime VII, ASOS

+.+.+

JON SNOW, KING IN THE NORTH

Chett (or is that Ramsay Bolton?) has his crown stolen by Snow.

There'd be no lord's life for the leechman's son, no keep to call his own, no wives nor crowns. Only a wildling's sword in his belly, and then an unmarked grave. The snow's taken it all from me . . . the bloody snow . . .

Snow had ruined him once before. Snow and his pet pig. - Prologue, ASOS

+.+.+

Does history repeat itself in this story?

"Torrhen had brought his power south after the fall of the two kings on the Field of Fire," said Jaime, "but when he saw Aegon's dragon and the size of his host, he chose the path of wisdom and bent his frozen knees." - Jaime II, ASOS

x

It would not do to make him feel as if his mother were usurping his place. Did you teach him wisdom as well as valor, Ned? she wondered. Did you teach him how to kneel? The graveyards of the Seven Kingdoms were full of brave men who had never learned that lesson. - Catelyn IX, AGOT

+.+.+

A mummer's dragon . . . or a king.

Thank you, @dontbipanicjonsa!

Follies done for love? He has bagged me neat as a hare in a snare. I seem to have already forgiven him. Mixed with her annoyance was a rueful admiration; the scene had been staged with the cunning worthy of a master mummer . . . or a king. - Catelyn II, ASOS

+.+.+

The oldest, dressed in grey and white. His companion larger than the rest.

One of the giants coming up on them looked older than the rest. His pelt was grey and streaked with white, and the mammoth he rode, larger than any of the others, was grey and white as well. 

[...]

"Was that their king?" asked Jon. - Jon II, ASOS

+.+.+

Mance or Jon? Middling height, slender, with long brown hair. A dressed down king.

The King-beyond-the-Wall looked nothing like a king, nor even much a wildling. He was of middling height, slender, sharp-faced, with shrewd brown eyes and long brown hair that had gone mostly to grey. There was no crown on his head, no gold rings on his arms, no jewels at his throat, not even a gleam of silver. He wore wool and leather, and his only garment of note was his ragged black wool cloak, its long tears patched with faded red silk. - Jon I, ASOS

+.+.+

Mance or Jon? A king who unites the land.

Mance had spent years assembling this vast plodding host, talking to this clan mother and that magnar, winning one village with sweet words and another with a song and a third with the edge of his sword, making peace between Harma Dogshead and the Lord o' Bones, between the Hornfoots and the Nightrunners, between the walrus men of the Frozen Shore and the cannibal clans of the great ice rivers, hammering a hundred different daggers into one great spear, aimed at the heart of the Seven Kingdoms. He had no crown nor scepter, no robes of silk and velvet, but it was plain to Jon that Mance Rayder was a king in more than name. - Jon II, ASOS

+.+.+

Mance or Jon? The king and his oddly coloured cloak.

The King-beyond-the-Wall was waiting outside, his ragged red-and-black cloak blowing in the wind. - Jon X, ASOS

+.+.+

Mance or Jon? Some say a crown, others say a woman, but the truth is the king deserted for a cloak.

"You will have heard stories of my desertion, I have no doubt." "Some say it was for a crown. Some say for a woman. Others that you had the wildling blood."

[...]

Mance Rayder rose, unfastened the clasp that held his cloak, and swept it over the bench. "It was for this."

"A cloak?" - Jon I, ASOS

x

+.+.+

One day it might be the highest honour.

"Walder Frey should be flayed and quartered!" he'd shouted. "He sends a cripple and a bastard to treat with us, tell me there is no insult meant by that." - Catelyn IV, ASOS

+.+.+

Are you sure?

The dream was sweet . . . but Winterfell would never be his to show. It belonged to his brother, the King in the North. He was a Snow, not a Stark. - Jon V, ASOS

+.+.+

Bran and Jon travel to Queenscrown for a quick visit.

"We call them merlons. They were painted gold a long time ago. This is Queenscrown."

Across the lake, the tower was black again, a dim shape dimly seen. "A queen lived there?" asked Ygritte.

"A queen stayed there for a night." - Jon V, ASOS

+.+.+

From snow to crown.

"Good Queen Alysanne, they called her later. One of the castles on the Wall was named for her as well. Queensgate. Before her visit they called it Snowgate." - Jon V, ASOS

+.+.+

The first domino.

". . . and dead. No one has seen or heard of Arya since they cut Father's head off. Why do you lie to yourself? Arya's gone, the same as Bran and Rickon, and they'll kill Sansa too once the dwarf gets a child from her. Jon is the only brother that remains to me. Should I die without issue, I want him to succeed me as King in the North. I had hoped you would support my choice." - Catelyn V, ASOS

+.+.+

Jon laughs like a king.

Thank you, @agentrouka-blog!

Jon laughed, laughed like a drunk or a madman, and his men laughed with him. - Jon VIII, ASOS

x

Barristan Selmy could not dispute the truth of that. He had spent the best part of his own life obeying the commands of drunkards and madmen. - The Queen's Hand, ADWD

x

He laughed . . . and when the king laughs, the court laughs with him. - Sansa IV, ASOS

+.+.+

Not all Aemon Targaryens have the same fate.

Aemon Targaryen, Jon thought, a king's son and a king's brother and a king who might have been. But he said nothing. - Jon X, ASOS

+.+.+

Tall enough, strong enough, and well placed beside the Wall.

Thank you, @aegor-bamfsteel and @decadelongsummer!

The King's Tower was not the castle's tallest—the high, slim, crumbling Lance held that honor, though Othell Yarwyck had been heard to say it might topple any day. Nor was the King's Tower strongest—the Tower of Guards beside the kingsroad would be a tougher nut to crack. But it was tall enough, strong enough, and well placed beside the Wall, overlooking the gate and the foot of the wooden stair. - Jon VII, ASOS

+.+.+

Jon sleeps inside the King's Tower.

There was a king in the King's Tower for the first time in living memory, and banners flew from the Lance, Hardin's Tower, the Grey Keep, the Shieldhall, and other buildings that had stood empty and abandoned for long years. - Samwell IV, ASOS

x

Jon could not remember the last time he had slept. When he closed his eyes he dreamed of fighting; when he woke he fought. Even in the King's Tower he could hear the ceaseless thunk of bronze and flint and stolen steel biting into wood - Jon IX, ASOS

+.+.+

The shield that guards the realms of men.

What good is a king who will not defend his realm? - Samwell IV, ASOS

x

"Our honor means no more than our lives, so long as the realm is safe. Are you a man of the Night's Watch?" - Jon VIII, ACOK

+.+.+

Kings, and their priorities.

I had the cart before the horse, Davos said. I was trying to win the throne to save the kingdom, when I should have been trying to save the kingdom to win the throne. - Jon XI, ASOS

+.+.+

Sounds real alright.

Thank you, @astraphysical!

Lord Snow. Ser Alliser Thorne had named him that, to mock his bastard birth. Many of his brothers had taken to using it as well, some with affection, others to wound. But suddenly it had a different sound to it in Jon's ears. It sounded . . . real.

[...]

Stannis put a thin, fleshless hand on Jon's shoulder. "Say nothing of what we've discussed here today. To anyone. But when you return, you need only bend your knee, lay your sword at my feet, and pledge yourself to my service, and you shall rise again as Jon Stark, the Lord of Winterfell." - Jon XI, ASOS

x

Even before the coming of the Andals, the Wolf's Den had been raised by King Jon Stark, built to defend the mouth of the White Knife against raiders and slavers from across the narrow sea (some scholars suggest these were early Andal incursions, whilst others argue they were the forebears of the men from Ib, or even slavers out of Valyria and Volantis). - TWoIaF

+.+.+

JON (AEMON?) SNOW

Sounds like someone else we know.

Aemon Targaryen, Jon thought, a king's son and a king's brother and a king who might have been. But he said nothing. - Jon X, ASOS

+.+.+

I don't doubt it.

"I'm Prince Aemon the Dragonknight," Jon would call out, and Robb would shout back, "Well, I'm Florian the Fool." Or Robb would say, "I'm the Young Dragon," and Jon would reply, "I'm Ser Ryam Redwyne." - Jon XII

+.+.+

JON THE BUILDER & HIS GIFT

A younger son of Winterfell puts down a rebel lord, and is granted new land.

Lord Rickard had spoken truly, Catelyn knew. The Karstarks traced their descent to Karlon Stark, a younger son of Winterfell who had put down a rebel lord a thousand years ago, and been granted lands for his valor. The castle he built had been named Karl's Hold, but that soon became Karhold, and over the centuries the Karhold Starks had become Karstarks. - Catelyn III, ASOS

+.+.+

A northern lord who swears fealty, but is no true lord.

"That's their sigil," said Bran. "Three brown buckets on a blue field, with a border of white and grey checks. Lord Wull came to Winterfell once, to do his fealty and talk with Father, and he had the buckets on his shield. He's no true lord, though. Well, he is, but they call him just the Wull, and there's the Knott and the Norrey and the Liddle too. At Winterfell we called them lords, but their own folk don't." - Bran II, ASOS

x

"Your Grace?" The king smiled. "That's not a style one often hears from the lips of free folk. I'm Mance to most, The Mance to some. Will you take a horn of mead?" - Jon I, ASOS

+.+.+

It was some other Brandon's gift.

"The Night's Watch," he answered. "This is the Gift. The New Gift, and north of that Brandon's Gift." Maester Luwin had taught him the history. "Brandon the Builder gave all the land south of the Wall to the black brothers, to a distance of twenty-five leagues. For their . . . for their sustenance and support." He was proud that he still remembered that part. "Some maesters say it was some other Brandon, not the Builder, but it's still Brandon's Gift. Thousands of years later, Good Queen Alysanne visited the Wall on her dragon Silverwing, and she thought the Night's Watch was so brave that she had the Old King double the size of their lands, to fifty leagues. So that was the New Gift." He waved a hand. "Here. All this." - Bran III, ASOS

+.+.+

It is a DREAM FOR SPRING.

Brandon's Gift had been farmed for thousands of years, but as the Watch dwindled there were fewer hands to plow the fields, tend the bees, and plant the orchards, so the wild had reclaimed many a field and hall. In the New Gift there had been villages and holdfasts whose taxes, rendered in goods and labor, helped feed and clothe the black brothers. But those were largely gone as well.

[...]

"Might be after we could come back here, and live in that tower," she said. "Would you want that, Jon Snow? After?"

After. The word was a spear thrust. After the war. After the conquest. After the wildlings break the Wall . . .

His lord father had once talked about raising new lords and settling them in the abandoned holdfasts as a shield against wildlings. The plan would have required the Watch to yield back a large part of the Gift, but his uncle Benjen believed the Lord Commander could be won around, so long as the new lordlings paid taxes to Castle Black rather than Winterfell. "It is a dream for spring, though," Lord Eddard had said. "Even the promise of land will not lure men north with a winter coming on."

If winter had come and gone more quickly and spring had followed in its turn, I might have been chosen to hold one of these towers in my father's name. Lord Eddard was dead, however, his brother Benjen lost; the shield they dreamt together would never be forged. "This land belongs to the Watch," Jon said. - Jon V, ASOS

+.+.+

Wrong king, wrong gods, and not his land.

"Whilst your brothers have been struggling to decide who shall lead them, I have been speaking with this Mance Rayder." He ground his teeth. "A stubborn man, that one, and prideful. He will leave me no choice but to give him to the flames. But we took other captives as well, other leaders. The one who calls himself the Lord of Bones, some of their clan chiefs, the new Magnar of Thenn. Your brothers will not like it, no more than your father's lords, but I mean to allow the wildlings through the Wall . . . those who will swear me their fealty, pledge to keep the king's peace and the king's laws, and take the Lord of Light as their god. Even the giants, if those great knees of theirs can bend. I will settle them on the Gift, once I have wrested it away from your new Lord Commander. When the cold winds rise, we shall live or die together. It is time we made alliance against our common foe." He looked at Jon. "Would you agree?"

"My father dreamed of resettling the Gift," Jon admitted. "He and my uncle Benjen used to talk of it." He never thought of settling it with wildlings, though . . . but he never rode with wildlings, either. He did not fool himself; the free folk would make for unruly subjects and dangerous neighbors. - Jon XI, ASOS

+.+.+

AHOY MATEY! ARYA STARK SAILS THE OCEAN BLUE

It takes stumpy a whole book to finally notice an amusing ship.

They had sailed up the Blackwater Rush flying the fiery heart of the Lord of Light. Davos and Black Betha had been in the second line of battle, between Dale's Wraith and Allard on Lady Marya. - Davos I, ASOS

x

I mean to use your second son as well. He will take Lady Marya across the narrow sea, to Braavos and the other Free Cities, to deliver other letters to the men who rule there. - Davos I, ACOK

+.+.+

Fast learner.

He looked dubious. "Did you ever sail a boat?"

"You put up the sail," she said, "and the wind pushes it."

"What if the wind is blowing the wrong way?"

"Then there's oars to row." - Arya II, ASOS

+.+.+

To reach the west, you must go east.

Now, quick as a snake, she thought, as she slammed her heels into the courser's flank. Right between Greenbeard and Jack-Be-Lucky she flew, and caught one glimpse of Gendry's startled face as his mare moved out of her way. And then she was in the open field, and running.

North or south, east or west, that made no matter now. - Arya III, ASOS

+.+.+

Could have, would have, should have.

I could have stayed with Hot Pie. We could have taken the little boat and sailed it up to Riverrun. She had been better off as Squab. No one would take Squab captive, or Nan, or Weasel, or Arry the orphan boy. I was a wolf, she thought, but now I'm just some stupid little lady again. - Arya III, ASOS

+.+.+

The mysterious Stark who sailed off beyond the Sunset Sea returns to the story.

It was Bran's turn to tell a story, so he told them about another Brandon Stark, the one called Brandon the Shipwright, who had sailed off beyond the Sunset Sea. - Bran III, ASOS

+.+.+

There's an Ice Dragon in the north, and a Galley sailing west.

A half moon was sliding in and out amongst thin high clouds, and Davos could see familiar stars. There was the Galley, sailing west; there the Crone's Lantern, four bright stars that enclosed a golden haze. The clouds hid most of the Ice Dragon, all but the bright blue eye that marked due north. - Davos VI, ASOS

+.+.+

No one cares who you are at the port.

And there were ships.

Three, thought Arya, there are three. Two were only river galleys, shallow draft boats made to ply the waters of the Trident. The third was bigger, a salt sea trader with two banks of oars, a gilded prow, and three tall masts with furled purple sails. Her hull was painted purple too. Arya rode Craven down to the docks to get a better look. Strangers are not so strange in a port as they are in little villages, and no one seemed to care who she was or why she was here. - Arya XIII, ASOS

+.+.+

Arya trades a horse for a ship.

She couldn't go back, no more than she could beg for help. Begging for help never gets you any. She would have to sell Craven, and hope she brought enough. - Arya XIII, ASOS

+.+.+

BRAN THE BROKEN, KING OF WESTEROS

A prince may be addressed similarly, but this still makes you pause.

It wasn't as good as deer, but it wasn't bad either, Bran decided as he ate. "Thank you, Meera," he said. "My lady."

"You are most welcome, Your Grace." - Bran I, ASOS

+.+.+

One day it might be the highest honour.

"Walder Frey should be flayed and quartered!" he'd shouted. "He sends a cripple and a bastard to treat with us, tell me there is no insult meant by that." - Catelyn IV, ASOS

+.+.+

From Tumbledown Tower to Queenscrown, Bran visits some cleverly named places on his journey.

Thank you, @agentrouka-blog!

Even the tumbled stones were so overgrown with moss and ivy that you could hardly see them until you were right on top of them. "Tumbledown Tower," Bran had named the place; it was Meera who found the way down into the vault, however. - Bran I, ASOS

x

"No. Old Nan told me. The holdfast has a golden crown, see?" He pointed across the lake. You could see patches of flaking gold paint up around the crenellations. "Queen Alysanne slept there, so they painted the merlons gold in her honor." - Bran III, ASOS

+.+.+

Bran stays the night at Queenscrown.

"We call them merlons. They were painted gold a long time ago. This is Queenscrown."

Across the lake, the tower was black again, a dim shape dimly seen. "A queen lived there?" asked Ygritte.

"A queen stayed there for a night." - Jon V, ASOS

+.+.+

Some kings might have wings.

Well, ravens might have wings, but lords and kings do not. - Jon VIII, ASOS

+.+.+

For the realm.

What good is a king who will not defend his realm? - Samwell IV, ASOS

x

"Most of him has gone into the tree," explained the singer Meera called Leaf. "He has lived beyond his mortal span, and yet he lingers. For us, for you, for the realms of men. Only a little strength remains in his flesh. He has a thousand eyes and one, but there is much to watch. One day you will know." - Bran III, ADWD

+.+.+

HIGH SEPTON RICKON?

In a chapter that establishes the Starks and Freys as foils, a son with no chance of inheriting has an interesting thought.

The gods gave me no gift but birth, and they stinted me there. What good was it to be the son of a rich and powerful House if you were the ninth son? When you took grandsons and great-grandsons into account, Merrett stood a better chance of being chosen High Septon than he did of inheriting the Twins. - Epilogue, ASOS

+.+.+

PICK YOUR POISON: THE TWINS MEET THEIR END IN THE MINES OF CASTERLY ROCK . . . OR KING'S LANDING

Jaime and his green dreams.

Thank you, @magiclovingdragon!

In his dreams the dead came burning, gowned in swirling green flames. Jaime danced around them with a golden sword, but for every one he struck down two more arose to take his place. - Jaime II, ASOS

x

Jaime saw green flames reaching up into the sky higher than the tallest towers, as burning men screamed in the streets. I have dreamed this dream before. It was almost funny, but there was no one to share the joke. - Jaime IV, ASOS

+.+.+

Cersei's all fire and ash.

Thank you, @magiclovingdragon!

Her eyes burned, green fire in the dusk, like the lioness that was her sigil. - Eddard XIII, ASOS

x

"The Hand speaks with the king's voice." Candlelight gleamed green as wildfire in Cersei's eyes. - Tyrion VIII, ACOK

x

The queen was drinking heavily, but the wine only seemed to make her more beautiful; her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes had a bright, feverish heat to them as she looked down over the hall. Eyes of wildfire, Sansa thought. - Sansa VI, ACOK

x

His sister liked to think of herself as Lord Tywin with teats, but she was wrong. Their father had been as relentless and implacable as a glacier, where Cersei was all wildfire, especially when thwarted. - Jaime II, AFFC

x

"I have never liked you, Cersei, but you were my own sister, so I never did you harm. You've ended that. I will hurt you for this. I don't know how yet, but give me time. A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid." - Tyrion XII, ACOK

+.+.+

A shared destiny.

Thank you, @kadarakey and @agentrouka-blog!

I cannot die while Cersei lives, he told himself. We will die together as we were born together. - Jaime IV, ASOS

x

We will leave this world together, as we once came into it. "He will not lose. Not Jaime. Not with my life at stake." - Cersei X, AFFC

x

Cersei lifted her chin, her green eyes shining in the candlelight. "Jaime? Have you had word?"

"None. Cersei, you may need to prepare yourself for—"

"If he were dead, I would know it. We came into this world together, Uncle. He would not go without me." - Epilogue, ADWD

x

And Jaime and I are more than brother and sister. We are one person in two bodies. We shared a womb together. He came into this world holding my foot, our old maester said. When he is in me, I feel … whole." The ghost of a smile flitted over her lips. - Eddard XII, AGOT

+.+.+

With his head on a weirwood stump, Jaime has prophetic dreams featuring the bowels of Casterly Rock.

Naked and alone he stood, surrounded by enemies, with stone walls all around him pressing close. The Rock, he knew. He could feel the immense weight of it above his head. 

[...]

He had no choice but to descend. Down a twisting passageway he went, narrow steps carved from the living rock, down and down. I must go up, he told himself. Up, not down. Why am I going down? Below the earth his doom awaited, he knew with the certainty of dream; something dark and terrible lurked there, something that wanted him. Jaime tried to halt, but their spears prodded him on.

[...] There were watery caverns deep below Casterly Rock, but this one was strange to him. "What place is this?"

"Your place." The voice echoed; it was a hundred voices, a thousand, the voices of all the Lannisters since Lann the Clever, who'd lived at the dawn of days. But most of all it was his father's voice, and beside Lord Tywin stood his sister, pale and beautiful, a torch burning in her hand. Joffrey was there as well, the son they'd made together, and behind them a dozen more dark shapes with golden hair.

[...] Her torch was the only light in the cavern. Her torch was the only light in the world. She turned to go.

[...]

"The flames will burn so long as you live," he heard Cersei call. "When they die, so must you."

[...]

"We could go back the way they brought us. If you climbed on my shoulders you'd have no trouble reaching that tunnel mouth."

Then I could follow Cersei. 

[...]

Jaime moved in a circle, ready for anything that might come out of the darkness. The water flowed into his boots, ankle deep and bitterly cold. Beware the water, he told himself. There may be creatures living in it, hidden deeps …

[...]

The fires that ran along the blade were guttering out, and Jaime remembered what Cersei had said. No. Terror closed a hand about his throat. Then his sword went dark, and only Brienne's burned, as the ghosts came rushing in. "No," he said, "no, no, no. Nooooooooo!"- Jaime VI, ASOS

+.+.+

The crypts aren't Jon's place. Jaime's place is under Casterly Rock.

Thank you, @dontbipanicjonsa!

There were watery caverns deep below Casterly Rock, but this one was strange to him. "What place is this?"

"Your place." - Jaime VI, ASOS

x

And the stone kings were growling at him with granite tongues. You do not belong here. This is not your place. - Jon XII, ASOS

+.+.+

The immense weight could crush you.

The Rock, he knew. He could feel the immense weight of it above his head. - Jaime VI, ASOS

x

The ice pressed close around them, and he could feel the cold seeping into his bones, the weight of the Wall above his head.

[...]

He looked up at where they'd come from. When you stand here it seems immense, as if it were about to crush you. - Jon VIII, ASOS

+.+.+

A clever twist to the mystery? Poison.

Thank you @eonweheraldodemanwe, for pointing out Mark Antony x Cleopatra + Romeo x Juliet might be the parallels George is aiming for.

The fires that ran along the blade were guttering out, and Jaime remembered what Cersei had said. No. Terror closed a hand about his throat. Then his sword went dark, and only Brienne's burned, as the ghosts came rushing in. - Jaime VI, ASOS

x

The old woman was not done with her, however. "Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds," she said. "And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you." - Cersei VIII, AFFC

x

"I don't care why," Cersei said. "He can take his reasons down to hell with him. If you had seen how Joff died . . . he fought, Jaime, he fought for every breath, but it was as if some malign spirit had its hands about his throat. He had such terror in his eyes . . . - Jaime IX, ASOS

x

In the Citadel, it was simply called the strangler. Dissolved in wine, it would make the muscles of a man's throat clench tighter than any fist, shutting off his windpipe. - Prologue, ACOK

+.+.+

She refuses to be taken alive.

Ser Ilyn opened his mouth and emitted a choking rattle. His pox-scarred face had no expression. "He's here for us, he says," the queen said. "Stannis may take the city and he may take the throne, but I will not suffer him to judge me. I do not mean for him to have us alive." - Sansa VI, ACOK

+.+.+

George R. R. Martin deviates from the story.

[S 02 : EP 09 - BLACKWATER - Written by George R. R. Martin]

+.+.+

But will it be Casterly Rock?

She had dreamed of it the night before last, a magnificent white castle surrounded by woods and gardens, long leagues from the stinks and noise of King's Landing. "This city is a cesspit. For half a groat I would move the court to Lannisport and rule the realm from Casterly Rock." - Cersei III, AFFC

. . . or King's Landing?

"I am aware of that," the queen said sharply. "I said that I wanted to move the court to Lannisport, not that I would. Were you always this slow, or did losing a hand make you stupid?"

Jaime ignored that. "If these flames spread beyond the tower, you may end up burning down the castle whether you mean to or not. Wildfire is treacherous." - Cersei III, AFFC

Tune in next time to find out!

+.+.+

TYRION LANNISTER, (PRISONER?) HAND OF THE KING

Tyrion's tasked with rebuilding King's Landing.

"I have seen enough for now. We'll return on the morrow with the guild masters to go over their plans." He sighed. Well, I burned most of this, I suppose it's only just that I rebuild it. - Tyrion IV, ASOS

+.+.+

Wrong title.

The man inclined his head. He was bald on top. "My lord Hand," he said.

"You mistake me. My father is the King's Hand. I am no longer even a finger, I fear."

[...]

"The last thing my wife needs is more songs," said Tyrion. "As for Shae, we both know she is no lady, and I would thank you never to speak her name aloud."

"As the Hand commands," Symon said. - Tyrion IV, ASOS

+.+.+

Big if.

"If I am ever Hand again, the first thing I'll do is hang all the singers," said Tyrion, too loudly. - Tyrion VIII, ASOS

+.+.+

IN REMEMBRANCE: A LOOK BACK AT SANDOR CLEGANE'S & YGRITTE'S GREATEST MOMENTS

+.+.+

ASOS: PART II

Touch me.

Dark Daenerys Highlights & Laughs

Let's Dance: Stark vs. Targ

Showdown at the Trident

A Rat in a Maze

The Usurper's Knife

Bran the Dragonslayer?

Storm x Storm 🦑🖤🐉

+.+.+

[khalesci]

♛ ⊱ @kronulv ⊱ ❝ The ancient crown of the Kings of Winter had been lost three centuries ago. ❞

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ THAT IS  WHAT  EVERYONE  SEEMS  TO  BELIEVE,  YES.  ❞  From  what  she's  gathered  from  the  histories,  the  crown  was  surrendered  to  Aegon  when  Torrhen  Stark  bent  his  knee,  and  none  say  what  the  Conquerer  did  with  the  Crown  of  Winter.  How  odd,  that  such  an  ancient  and  prestigious  symbol  of  the  past  could  vanish  so  easily  from  anyone's  knowledge,  with  no  indication  of  what  had  been  done  to  it.  If  it  was  destroyed,  surely  the  Maesters  would  have  made  note  of  such.  But  of  course,  that  no  longer  seems  to  be  the  case.  ❝ There  is  a  vault  here  beneath  Dragonstone.  It  does  not  appear  in  any  mappings  or  designs;  a  sealed  vestige  deep  within  the  island's  core.  My  surveyors  found  it  by  pure  accident.  ❞  It  was  clear  the  place  had  been  untouched  for  hundreds  of  years  when  she  went  to  investigate  for  herself.  Piles  of  gold  remained  within,  old  currencies  and  artifacts  from  Valyria,  an  entire  section  stockpiled  with  obsidian.  And  so  much  more.  ❝ There  is  a  mass  of  treasure  inside.  And  in  one  place,  a  room  full  of  trophies  Aegon  and  his  sisters  claimed  during  the  Conquest.  ❞

  ㅤㅤㅤDany  turns  and  reaches  for  a  bundle  upon  the  painted  table,  wrapped  in  layers  of  thick  velvet  for  its  protection.  ❝ This  was  inside,  ❞  she  says,  holding  it  out  for  Robb's  inspection  as  she  unwinds  the  coverings,  revealing  a  crown  beneath.  Nine  swords  of  black  iron  rising  from  a  bronze  base,  etched  with  runes  of  an  unfamiliar  script,  humming  with  a  faint,  ancient  magic  no  ordinary  person  could  recognize.  The  Crown  of  Winter.  She  takes  one  of  Robb's  hands,  gently  guiding  it  to  touch  the  cold  metal.  ❝ It's  yours,  ❞  Dany  lets  go  of  his  hand,  bringing  her  fingertips  to  brush  across  his  cheek.  ❝ It  belongs  with  you.  Even  if  you  decide  you  don't  want  to  wear  it,  then  it  should  be  kept  by  your  family  at  least.  ❞  Aegon  may  have  been  the  one  to  take  the  crown,  but  she  will  be  the  one  to  give  it  back.  ❝ I  realize  that  when  we  first  negotiated  in  Meereen,  I  never  gave  you  a  firm  answer  of  whether  I  would  support  the  North's  independence  beyond  helping  you  reclaim  it  from  the  Boltons.  Here  is  my  answer.  Here  is  where  my  heart  lies.  ❞

[leesielex]

Once Upon a Song of Ice and Fire

Summary: Dany Storm is a loner. She always has been since she was a baby found on the side of the highway. She doesn't believe in happy endings and miracles, you have to scrape and scrounge just to survive. When her ex swoops back into her life it will turn everything upside down, and have her questioning everything she thought she knew.

A Preview of CH 1- A Nuclear Blast from the Past:

Lights illuminated Dany’s apartment as she entered and flipped the switches. She was holding a small box from the bakery in the other, as well as her keys and purse, trying to remove her platform heels. Once rid of the shoes, her feet crying in relief, she walked to the kitchen and placed all her belongings on the table.

Dany opened the box and took out her single cupcake. It wasn’t much, but she could give herself this at least. A little celebration for her twenty eighth birthday and successful capture of Ramsay Bolton.

The drawer rattled as she opened it and rummaged around for a candle and matches. Once she found both items she inserted the candle in the middle of her favorite red velvet cupcake, then lit it. She leaned her face down and closed her eyes, concentrating on her wish.

I wish I didn’t have to be alone on my birthday, she thought, thinking each word in her mind. She opened her eyes then blew out the candle, the smoke filling her senses, and a shiver tickled her spine.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The sound made her snap her head towards the door, then to the clock hanging on the wall. It was ten at night and she certainly wasn’t expecting anyone. The knock sounded again so she yelled out that she was coming and ran to the door.

Perhaps it was the neighbor again. Olenna lived alone, though her grandchildren visited her often. Sometimes her cat would get out and she would look to Dany for help in locating it, or she needed assistance carrying groceries in. That had to be it. She cracked it open, and froze.

“Dany.”

The familiar accent intoxicated her senses, leaving her unable to form a coherent thought. Even if she could, her breath was caught in her throat and her heart raced towards an unhealthy pace that was sure to cause her to go into cardiac arrest.

“Dany, I-.” He didn’t seem to have the words either as they stared at each other. His eyes were searching hers as she stood immobilized. “Can I come in?”

Him asking that snapped her back to reality and all that was left was blinding rage. “You show up here, after all you did to me, and ask to come in?” she asked, incredulous.

“Please, Dany. I need to talk to you. I can explain,” he pleaded.

He looked so fucking sexy begging, desperate and broody. Before it would have turned her to putty in his hands, but not now. Now, she wanted to punch him in that pretty mouth of his.

“Go to the Seven Hells, Jon. There is nothing left to

say,” she said as she slammed the door in his face.

Click here to read full chapter on AO3

This is my submission to Jonerys Summer Lovin' event in the Fairy Tales trope. @snowxstormworld

[summercreolefanfictioner]

the Sakamaki brothers as kpop songs (plus scenarios / headcanons)

A/N: As if the break-up songs weren't enough lol. And disclaimer, I am not a kpop stan or anything of the sort. I just listening to some of them 'cause they sound amazing.

SHUU

"Don’t look back and leave Don’t find me again and just live on Because I have no regrets from loving you, so only take the good memories."

what is it with this guy and his affinity for lonely songs

the thing abt Shuu is that he lives his life with waaaaaaay too many regrets

so let's say he loves this human girl so much

but instead of taking the relationship a further notch, he just decides to cut things off w/ no explanation

then he gets sad abt it wtf

and one day he's like "shouldn't have let her go"

REIJI

"So you can’t forget me, I keep standing in front of you again Your heart, so I can’t shake it and get out of it I steal your lips again and run far away."

I swear this man lives for the femme fatale

I bet he has already dated a female vampire who's at par with him with his intelligence and cunning persona

hmmm this sounds like a Bond movie

this guy will make sure he imprints he's mark on you cause he is a possessive man like that

AYATO

"You and I, we kiss, I feel good I’m trusting myself with you, I feel you This is a little dangerous, dangerous, dangerous I think I’ll cross a line."

AYAYUI STANS, THIS IS YOUR MOMENT TO SHINE!

I actually had a hard time coming up with a song that relates to Ayato's side so well

cause I wanna perfectly capture not just the sadistic side but also some sides of him (since I have watched all his gameplays)

so yeah I think this song fits 'cause ya know Ayato's that bad guy in teen flicks who attracts the sheltered girls

think Hardin Scott and Troy Bolton combined lol

yes this is another AyaYui anthem

KANATO

"Us together inside this maze The only thing I can count on is you Close your eyes, hold me, because We have no tomorrow."

okay so I was thinking of Red Velvet's 'Feel My Rhythm' and yes it still suits Kanato but I think this takes the spot

there's something abt this song that screams "assurance" and Kanato craves it so well

plus the main color for this song is purple so it captures his needy and sensual side

this is just me showing another side of Kanato 'cause let's be real if he just socialized, his bang list would be higher than Ayato and Laito

LAITO

"Don't offer me a drink, oh baby It'll only bring regrets Don't give me courage, oh baby I know it'll only last today."

hmm another sensual song

I know sometimes I make Laito into a whore but this song matches his aesthetics

this song is actually abt going all for love despite the consequences and I believe Laito would play the devil's advocate

like he would tempt you with his sweet words and handsome gaze and gentlemanly ways but he would also dump and cheat on you

Laito is just that type of guy who tells you what's good for you even tho we all know it's not

but ofc you don't care

SUBARU

"Risking my everything, I cast this spell, we can be so perfect Even if the world becomes my enemy It can’t be, it can’t be anyone but you."

I always link Subaru with sad songs bcos of his falling in love w/ teacher headcanons lol

but when I was searching for songs that would match him, this one immediately resonated with his character

I actually have a headcanon that Subaru is someone who fights for love, especially when the person he's aiming for is in danger or is in toxic relationship

like idk it just reminds him of his mother and his thoughts of "why do you still cling onto him when he doesn't care for you"