#Jon Snow died for our sins | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rise-my-angel · 10 months

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Heart of the Great Wolf

12 - The Cost of Our Sins

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

Length: 10.2k

Warnings: Angst/hurt comfort, slow burn, traumatic and disturbing imagery, gore, physical abuse, confinement and restraints, reference/allusions to rape, trauma response, torture, suicidal ideation, past character death

Notes: I am so sorry for..well...pretty much everything, cus the horror show does not end at the last chapter strap in because part 3 starts now. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

Numb is all you felt, a radiating sensation of death that sat through your body still on it’s side. Your eyes could not open, as you felt the pooling of blood in your stomach. The warmth soaked feeling where a son once lay inside you. You had looked into Robb’s eyes as yours faded with him. You had gone together, and now you lay there with the seconds of an awoken mind. Eyes fluttering open was not that of the scene you died, but something worse.

It was fire. Blood and fire all around as you barley could open your eyes long enough to see what your sins had cost you. Was it the Seven, the Old Gods, or the fire god your father had found in that sought to punish you? You lay looking through bars that caged you at the hell before you, it was your punishment for all crimes you had found in.

The world before this ended you and Robb Stark together and somewhere in this hell your gods decided that you could not reunite until you were given fair just sentence for your sins. Push through this, you thought, let the gods do with you as they wish and they will allow you to return in the veil to him, to him and your son.

Chanting that in your ears sounded like they were moving underwater, you felt too heavy to lift your head to look. Your body burned and bled still and your muscles could not move but that of your eyes to the blur around you. The chanting grew louder and louder as a group rounded a corner of wherever you were brought too, and it was your husband that they called too. A chanting of King in the North, over and over as you watched his own punishment. The gods were far more cruel then you ever imagined as you watched what they forced you to atone in.

It was Robb, but propped up against something, the black outfit was the very one you recalled your living self, lovingly dressing him in. And the shine in his bright blue eyes as they looked over you with as much love as you had in your heart. But it was soaked in blood as you lay, and not the face of your husband.

Instead, the sight of The Young Wolf was that as you were The Silent Stag. His head bloodied, but like it had formed into that of a giant direwolf, like he turned into his very companion in Grey Wind as it looked propped on his body. The gods, forcing him to live what he was called and you as your own as you lay in a choking cry unable to find the strength to speak or cry to him through the blood in your mouth.

His sight was mocked by the demonic creatures you could barley see around him, before the water in your eyes blurred him, before the fading came once more. You accepted the horror that he did not deserve. This was for your sins.

Let the gods do this, and once more you would wake. In the realms beyond the living, Robb at your side with an arm around you, as you held your son, little Ned. You promised to always be together.

The gods would punish you, and allow you to be together once more. You and Robb just had to endure this horror, and you would finally be together again.

That was all you had to do to get back to him.

Skies were dim as you ventured further into the lands, leaving a drab feeling blanketing over the land that fit the state of mind you lived in. According to the rumblings in the men, you had been in and out of conciseness for almost a fortnight, leaving you to assume that the last of the summer sun had died out and only the dim of autumn remained. Not that you missed the sun, the last time it shined in any way that you could appreciate was so far off you bared not thinking about it.

Watching the men around you act like normal had made you angry in those first few days you woke up, but now it was all meaningless to try and keep that energy up, you had none left in you really. The small cage off in the distance was your home for a bit, mostly a place you were tossed to wait and see if you would ever wake up, but then once you had? They kept you shoved in there just to keep you from lashing out.

The first day one of the men had approached you to give you water, only to slide his hand into the bars as your hands were tightly bound. He still wore an ugly dressing over the mark where you bit him, your mouth still stained somewhat with blood from how hard you dug your teeth in. After that, multiple men had to drag you out and hold you down so they could gag you which had stayed on you for the most part, including now.

But you were too exhausted to fight, your face and skin were constantly flush and hot with sweat as your head grew more fuzzy and dizzy each day. Once it was determined you were indeed alive and not going to bleed out, apparently some kind of infection set in just to make you more pathetic. Currently as camp was made for the night you were granted some freedom.

The men assigned to watch you noting that you were mostly docile, leaning your head against the iron bars with a distant and dispondant look, to weak to even roll your eyes at their comments. You had been allowed to be let out, and brought to a tree where you now sat tied up against. What a sight you must have been, flush and sweaty, covered in grime to the point it matted in your hair, and still wearing the very dress you had been that night, still soaked in dried blood.

It was a living nightmare, your dreams flashing in a repeating horror with the strings of music that would forever haunt you, only to awake to the men all finding it in their cold hearts, to sing it outloud. You wondered if they even knew other songs, or if it was just all a sick game to torment you as they dragged you with them. If one more of them sung that Lannister song, you were going to find a way to free your hands just to cut off your own ears.

Perhaps it was the fever in your head, but you had no sense of what to feel anymore. It was so twisted all wrong, and you had not the heart to find it’s truth in front of all these people. Not them, not after what they’ve done.

Your eyes flickered up in a painful glare as footsteps approached, and the figure kneeling in front of you raised an eyebrow at your state. “Now, my lady, if I take this off are you going to behave, or will you need a refresher?” His hand pointing to your eye. Right, that must be just adding to your state, likely bruised by this point when he had hit you hard across the face after you kicked away the food he brought you.

You wanted nothing from Roose Bolton, but he insisted on finding ways to keep you alive. A true mockery that felt now. Your stomach burned where the slices refused to heal or fade. You looked off to the side dejectedly, and he took that was an answer.

Pulling the fabric down from between your teeth you bit your tongue and continued to not look in his direction. “It’s been almost a fortnight since you’ve eaten, and days since you’ve had any water. If I’m going to keep you alive, we’re going to have to fix that problem.”

“Then don’t keep me alive. Wouldn’t be the first time.” You barley recognized your voice, it was hoarse and so rough that your throat screamed at you to douse it in water and smooth it down with honey to ease the pain. Tearing your eyes back up to him as your head lulled to rest back against the bark you raised your eyebrows at him in challenge.

His ability to keep calm in any situation no longer was a point of impressive resolve, but an angering fester in your stomach at his lack of humanity. “It was not a matter of personal affairs, just politics, my lady.”

Your breath cracked out a single laugh that almost made you cough. “Where is the utility in keeping me alive, when you sure tried your best to do the opposite?” You couldn’t ignore the burning inside of you, it was as if you’d pull your dress up and see a blackness toxifying around what was left.

“This is neither the time nor place to discuss such matters. Not in your fragile state.” Huffing another cracked laughter you asked him what he even wanted. “Right now I want to ensure I can get myself, my men, and even you into the Dreadfort in one piece. When we arrive I will have our maester treat you, then we can speak more.”

You felt dizzy even just sitting up against a tree like this, the air was obviously getting colder judging by the state of dress going around but you neither were covered in anyway to help, nor did you really feel it. It was as if you were in the dark swampiness of the Crannogmen lands but instead of a misty air it was humid and sweltering like a Dornish sun. All you could muster was a huff.

Leaning forward with a skin of something, he opened the cap and took a sip before holding it up with an expectant look. “It will be far easier to get us past the Ironborn if I have you on a horse instead of dragging you around in a cage. But I need to know you will cooperate if I do. I’ll even keep let you stay ungagged.”

Leaning forward with the skin once more before he was uncomfortably close to your face, “I wouldn’t test me further, my lady. The only thing keeping these men from raping you every night is my order, and I’m quite sure in this state you wouldn’t survive as many as have talked about it. So either it’s me, or I leave you now to the mercy of my men.”

There was no place in arguing, you had nothing to fight back with. Jaw clenched as you fought back the angry pounding in your heart, you nodded. Roose seemingly satisfied enough that he gently placed the skin to your mouth. The water down your throat felt so soothing that it made your insides wish to cry, but you had no energy for it. So you let him give you the water, and come morning maybe you would feel less like a floating bundle of delusions.

He left you alone after that, but just as he said none came over to you. You think there were groups that had their eyes on you, but it was difficult to see. In the dark, the blurriness of your vision only let you see what was in front of your face and everything else was blurs of shapes and fire.

Late into the night, you fell asleep once more. The only thing which came to you, was the sight of Roose plunging the knife he struck you with into the chest of Robb and the strings of music that had played only seconds before it all. That’s all you saw anymore, and you couldn’t remember if you ever dreamed in any way before that night, all you saw and heard was those two things again and again.

One man, dark eyes with a creeping look that would once have made you on edge was the one who fetched you come morning. He spoke some, expected nothing in return. Pointing a knife at your unresponsive face as he threw out, “You run or hit me, and I’ll knock that pretty face around enough to leave a mark that’ll stay ugly. Got it?” Merely untying you did nothing, since your hands were still bound tight enough to keep you from struggling them from behind.

Yanking you up to your feet he walked you though the camp to where the horses were stood ready to go. Another man next to what seemed to be his, smirked as he nodded to you like a silent object. “Know it’s been a rough few years when even this one looks good ‘nuff to make a man jealous.”

Knocking him in the arm, he moved with him to hoist you up onto the horse, your vision spinning drastically at the movement with no way to steady yourself. The first dark eyed man, Locke, climbed up behind you, taking your bound hands into his grip and yanking you back to hiss in your ear. “Be smart now, lass. There’s nothing round us but Ironborn and best bet no one’s gonna protect your honour once you’re alone with them. You gonna be a smart girl?” Nodding with a clenched jaw, he hummed satisfied.

Shoving you off of him before the rest of the men all begun to take off. They’d have to take the day to sneak past the bordered scouts and by then, if they pushed hard they could make it to the Dreadfort by next daybreak. You couldn’t possibly wonder what awaited you there, but at the minimum, threat of death was far from any worry in your mind.

Waking up for good had felt like a new kind of death, a confusion that tore you up and threatened to swallow you whole. Making no sense at first, you had died you knew it. Or, you thought you did. Not a thing had felt like the way you were fading and yet you were here now. You dared not think of the memory of fire and chanting you were so sure as a deathly torment of the gods. If you thought of that, you might bringing up the only thing in your stomach, of water and bile and you refused to look at yourself in anyway. The red staining your dress was there until the mercy of new clothes might be granted if ever.

You had no right to be here, you had promised him. You and Robb promised the other that it would be until your last day, together. Not one without the other, you found your fate dying beside him but yet you were alive and the memories of him would paint before your mind like cries in the night.

Something was quite wrong inside you, but you felt like there wasn’t enough awareness in you to see what it was or what was missing. All you knew is that you were trapped in this memory of that night, and you couldn’t see a single thing in the world around you except that and here.

If there was a world and people that existed besides this nightmare, you could not find them.

“So you admit you murdered Qhorin Halfhand?”

Standing in the main hall before three men, having found nothing right when Jon awoke. Lord Commander Mormont as Sam said, dead. Murdered in a mutiny, and leaving him to hope that he learned enough from the Old Bear to get through to the rest.

Jon saw nothing but conflict in his actions, and as he stood there now it was clear that it didn’t matter what they thought of him, it mattered that he make them understand what no one else seemed to truly get. Neither side got it, it seemed. “I didn’t murder him.”

Ser Alliser Thorne looked him down with the same contempt he always had, and if he had his way without question he would’ve ended Jon then and there the second he rode through the gates. “No? You put your sword through a brother of the Night’s Watch. What do you call that?”

“He wanted me to kill him.”

Lord Janos Slynt sat to the left, leaning partially across the table with the same puffy and slime filled smugness he always held. Full of respect for none but his own reputation, and yet he was here down in the icy ends of the world like the rest of them. “The bastard son of a traitor. What would you expect?”

The man was lucky Jon wasn’t as young and brash as he was in his first months here. He tried putting a knife through Ser Alliser in a rage for a similar comment once upon a time. Instead, he kept his composure and attention on the later man and Maester Aemon listening intently to his right. “The Halfhand believed our only chance to stop Mance was to get a man inside his army.”

Ser Alliser interrupting with a gritted roughness that Jon could sympathize with. “Don’t talk about the Halfhand as if you knew him. He was my brother.”

They were all brothers now, even you, Jon thought. Ser Alliser certainly wasn’t a fan of Jon, nor he in return but he knew losing a brother wasn’t easy and it certainly didn’t make Jon feel like he was doing the right thing when he killed him. He agreed with the man himself to do it, and he agreed with why, but he still put his sword through the Halfhand. His first true kill and that would forever be a bloodstain on his hands. “Then you’d know he’d do anything to defend the Wall. The free folk would have boiled him alive, but letting me kill him-”

Slynt had the gall to laugh, like there was anything in Jon’s entire existence anymore that even could give the slightest bit of amusement. “The free folk? Listen to him, he even talks like a wildling now.”

The rage for a minute spilled out of his mouth as Jon raised his voice to him, “Aye, I talk like a wildling. I ate with the wildlings, I climbed the wall with the wildlings, I-” There was that wave again. One that made him feel uncomfortable and bordering on a guilty kind of dirty that he couldn’t scrub away no matter how hard. It was there and they would all only see one thing, but it didn’t feel anything the way they were going to.

Then Jon thought of you, and it just made it all the worse. But he had to be honest in some regards, he wasn’t going to get through to these men by lying. He had to just say it the only way any would care or believe him with. “I laid with a wildling girl.”

“You admit to breaking your vows, then?”

If that’s what they were going to focus on, what would it even take to convince them to take him seriously on anything else. He did break his vows, but not willingly, and not with the only person who deserved to have them broken for.

Janos Slynt continued his petty tirade that Jon was growing increasingly annoyed with. “The law is law, the boy must die.” And what law did you break to get here, my lord? What had you done to find yourself from City Watch Commander to the Night’s Watch, what mercy were you shown to not die for your crimes, Jon thought.

Maester Aemon however, seemed to care not for where they saw fit to debate Jon on. “If we beheaded every ranger who lay with a girl, the Wall would be manned by headless men.”

Ser Alliser trying to argue, “There’s a difference between sneaking off to the Mole’s Town brothel and sleeping with the enemy.” Somehow Jon knew that telling him the only alternative was death, wouldn’t exactly give him any more leniency, but he like Aemon, had no time for this.

“Aye, there is a difference. Sneaking out to a brothel doesn’t give you detailed information about their enemy plans and numbers. And while we sit here debating which rules I broke, Mance Rayder marches on the wall with an army of a hundred thousand.”

They tried to protest that was impossible, but he’d seen it. He had walked through that camp and felt nothing but a building dread for what was to come of any of this. “He’s united the Thenns, the Hornfoots, the Ice-River Clans. He has giants fighting for him.”

The degree to which Jon was getting fed up with Janos Slynt was immeasurable. The man laughed while looking at the other two who didn’t find anything funny about it. “Giants?”

Jaw tight, he looked to the waste of air with a barley held back lack of respect on his face. “Have you ever been beyond the Wall, ser?”

There was that huff of pride in his face once more. “I commanded the City Watch of King’s Landing, boy.”

“And now you’re here. You must not have been very good at your job.” Jon would have no way of knowing it, but another voice with serious eyes and a dismissive snark echoed in Janos Slynt’s ears.

The voice of a woman who he had no reasonable way of knowing meant a single thing to dark curly haired man in front of them. The girl had spent many of her days on the council questioning his capabilities, and insulting him all the same as this one. But Jon ignored his outrage as she always would.

“There’s a band of wildlings south of the Wall already led by Tormund Giantsbane. I killed their warg and three others, they shot me full of arrows. Their orders are to attack Castle Black from the south while Mance hits it from the north. Their signal for the attack will be a bonfire, Mance said it would be the greatest fire the North has ever seen. That’s the truth. All the truth.”

They didn’t execute him, or at least not that day Jon thought to himself. As he slept that night though, he still saw you dying on the floor in your own blood. Sam had tried asking him about the girl, about Ygritte. Especially since he now had Gilly in his life but Jon knew there was no comparing. From what he could tell, Gilly had more of a strange sheltered life then any of them, and she was nothing like the aggressive and hypocritical anger of the wildling girl Jon had travelled with.

But he didn’t want to talk about Ygritte, he didn’t want to talk about having to send his only protection in Ghost away just to save his cover from that of death. Didn’t want to talk about what he was forced to do and how he tricked himself into thinking it was all fine just to cope with it.

Only a few times did Sam try to gently bring up the other, but Jon shot it down every single time. He already felt pain and anger about it, about Robb. Jon certainly didn’t want to talk about you. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Jon had a job to do, and he was haunted enough in his dreams of your death to have Sam try and comfort him about it. Besides, he didn’t even have Ghost now. He hadn’t seen him since sending him off and all he could remember in his waking hours, was the two of you sitting in front of the Weirwood. Ghost still tiny curled up in your lap as you sat in his arms.

He was losing everything it seemed, but he’d be damned if he lost this place, the only thing that served from the gods to provide Jon with any kind of purpose. In this coming war, or the one foreboding against them in the distant colds of the far North.

The Dreadfort was a befitting name you supposed. It stood tall in what looked like the middle of nowhere, cleared land all around the high walls, that build up on the inside to the highest fort in the dead centre with edges at the top looking like sharp, imposing teeth. As your eyes drifted along it, a woozy feeling came over you from the last push to get into the lands past the remaining Ironborn. Gates opening, the court was as drab and deary as the rest of it and yet the people all scattered around were normal.

Roose Bolton climbed from his horse first to greet a figure awaiting in the distance, and introducing his new wife. Walda was a bit younger then you, and certainly held more life in her eyes and face then you did. A brightness as she was brought into the castle where you were pulled off the front of the horse by two men.

Turning from the other man, Roose looked to them with orders, “Put her in a cell, and have Maester Wolkan look her over.” You hardly had a chance to see or hear anything else as you were dragged into a deeper part of the structure. The cells in your vision were along a single wall and quite small as the only light was a small set of torches lit along wall corners.

None said a word to you, but you went willingly as they opened the doors. Cutting your hands free behind your back before tossing you in and closing behind you. The echos of their feet fading off until it was the flickering of the flames left alone with you.

Wincing as you dragged yourself up with palms braced on the ragged ground before finding a resting spot against the wall and side of the cell. Resting your head along the bars you couldn’t figure out what it was you were feeling. Your body held an ache all over where some places burned like a festering would alight.

Eyes barley focusing on the wall beyond your cell, they wanted to let tears fall freely but you simply had nothing left in you. The shock of waking up had passed by this point, and now all that was left was the murky depths left behind and only one thing at a time could come to the surface for air. You could still hear the strings playing, the hall filling with music that had you, nor anyone, suspect a thing until it was already over.

You hardly thought any other music existed, it looped in your mind as did the damning stop of it as the instruments blurred to weapons. Perhaps it was your doom to sit reliving such a moment and yet you found nothing in you to say Roose Bolton took you just to let you rot.

He had tried to kill you, and you had even lay there beside Robb thinking he had succeeded until..the wall torch fire before you flashed to another fire, and that turned to yells and chanting and in a split second you flew a hand to to grasp tightly at one of the bars as your lungs gave out. You told yourself not to think about it, you said you would never look back to that sight-

A door opening had you slam your eyes shut, breathing so harshly out that you felt the dizziness spin around you. Your hand still gripped the bar so tightly though that it strained your hand into a cramp as you willed your panic to swallow. “My lady,”

Slowly you opened them, trying to stay still as you glanced up and to the side where a man you didn’t recognize stood. Two guards behind him, but you did note the chains across his robes before sighing and turning away.

The guards entered behind him to stand at attention as he came towards you. “My lady, I am Maester Wolkan, I am here to see how your health is faring.” He knelt down in front of you as you huffed out a painful spit of air as it trying to fake a laugh. “I understand you have been through a lot, if you would allow me?”

Rolling your head to the side so he could see your still discoloured eye, he tilted your head back and forth to see the other cuts along you. “How long have you had this fever?” You didn’t answer, you didn’t even know. It had been days since you woken up, and it’s felt both like years of pain have passed through you and only seconds since losing everything of your life.

Wolkan lightly soaked a cloth in a small basin of water before dabbing it across your forehead, the coolness of it making you hiss towards the feeling against your burning skin. Taking it upon himself, he washed away some of the blood and grime on your face as the water left a cool sheen on it.

“Can you stand on your own?” Your eyes narrowed in confusion before remembering he was there to look at your wounds, when truthfully you didn��t see the point. Nodding, you hissed in lifting yourself up, letting him look over your arm, pulling apart the torn fabric near your shoulder to look at the deep unhealed scar inside of it. “Any pain or difficulties moving this arm at all?”

You shook your head no, passing your notice, that it made him pause, looking at you almost puzzled for just a moment. He must have been told some of the wounds, as gently asked you, “I will have to undo the laces against your back to check the one there.” You didn’t react, just looked to the nothing on the dark walls as he looked where you pushed away the memory of an arrow. Not the one which hit you, no, the ones that-

“This might seem a droll indecent, but I was informed you had received a significant injury on your stomach and I will need to take a look at it.” You were stuck at the arrows, not thinking of anything else after reliving the seconds as they hit him, and your eyes finding a watering that luckily was hard to see in this light.

The man had to gently pull up the skirt of your dress, trying carefully not to peel it on the sensitive skin as he revealed what you had no bravery to look at. But by not looking at it, you also missed the shocked, almost dreadfully fearful astonishment in Wolkan’s face. “My lady how did-”

“Ask your lord, he will know better.”

The finality in your tone ended that line of thought in his head, but his eyes were so focused on the wounds that you begun to shake from the lack of energy. Dropping it back down he gently grabbed your upper arms, “Here, you can sit once more.”

It took some time for him to come to an assessment, packing up some of his things. “I fear you have an infection, my lady. The lack of food and water likely making it overstay it’s place for much longer, I will have simple water and broth sent down to you for the next while. As well as a potion that will help speed the process.” Glancing down to your stomach and then your dulled eyes he paused, “It is the-”

“I don’t want to to hear it, just send me what I need to take and I’ll take it. Now if we are finished Maester, I’d like to be left alone to rot in the quiet.” Watching you for a few significant moments, he respected your wish and made his way to leave.

Normally he would inform you the degree which it would make you ill before getting better, but he had the feeling you had very little care on such a side effect. Such a state you were in, how bloodied and unwell you were as Lord Bolton dragged you across much of the North, and then was the wounds on her stomach..as far as Wolkan in all his knowledge could tell anyone, there shouldn’t have been a soul who could have survived that.

It hadn’t healed, but it was as if it was to stay open and deep without having any impact on the skin around it. It was a gruesome, violent, jagged series of scars all connected together, and yet it was as if they existed separate of your body.

In the main hall, the Greyjoy in Ramsay Snow’s care looked as unwell and ragged as the lady in the cells, but subservient to the point it made many uncomfortable. “If Bran and Rickon are alive, the country will rally to their side now that Robb Stark is gone.”

Theon pausing in his actions shaving the younger man, a horror in his eyes that was desperate to be pushed back down before it swallowed him whole. Ramsay with no genuinity in his sorrowful tone. “Oh that’s right, Reek. Robb Stark is dead.”

Roose Bolton notably said nothing to stop his sons torment of Theon. Turning to Locke instead he gave the man an offer, “Find those boys and I’ll give you a thousand acres and a holdfast.”

Locke asking on any ideas where to start, and the beginnings of a true mistake unknowingly spilling from Roose’s mouth in instruction. “Jon Snow is at Castle Black. Their bastard brother, he could be sheltering them, he may know where they are. Even if he doesn’t he’s half Stark himself which means he could prove to be a threat. Especially if he learns of our most recent prisoner,” Pausing as he looked to Ramsey with something that Theon couldn’t yet grasp, how could he? He didn’t know any of who else they were keeping here besides himself.

Looking back to Locke, Roose was specific with your name on his lips that way too quickly made Theon swallow harshly, “Make sure no mention of her presence here gets out. Jon Snow was close with the girl, and she is his brothers widow. If he isn’t hiding the boys, he may still learn that she’s being kept here. And I don’t care to have him bringing a fight to our doorstep to get her back.”

His instructions included killing you, that much was made clear from Tywin Lannister but apparently you were a frustrating little fighter. It was a surprise to find later in the night, you were still alive. He had come up as the blood was all still fresh, knocked you with his foot onto your back and you were as dead as every other corpse in the hall. You and Robb both pale, blood had spilled out and stopped, and not a pulse to be felt as both your eyes sat wide, colourless, and defeated. There was no question about it.

Until later when he had returned. Ensuring the giant direwolf had been taken care of, walking back in before the Freys and his men could do whatever with the bodies they wished. But as he approached the King and Queen, and with no one in the hall to have done so, suddenly, your eyes had been closed. And you had the faintest of pulses he’d ever felt, but it was there. He was sure he watched you die himself, but now you sat in his dungeon as a plan begun to formulate in his mind.

Time was difficult for you to gauge, but far longer had begun to pass then you realized, weeks and months that felt like seconds or years. In that time, Roose building the steps to a proper claim, and promised his bastard son, that if he could prove himself and retake Moat Cailin, then he would reconsider his position. Afterall, if you were alive anyways, you were of no use to Roose in the hands of his bastard, but in the hands of a legitimate heir? Perhaps the gods left you alive for a reason.

Roose just had to make sure that the half Stark at Castle Black heard no word of you being alive. Too many people underestimated Robb Stark for too long, and the same mistake would not be made twice, not for his brother. Ramsay has his own way of things, but Roose Bolton did not want to be the one to underestimate Jon Snow.

Gods, how much time had even passed? You felt in a daze that never ended, even worse then before. A servant for the Maester brought down a vile smelling potion which tasted even worse. Since you had kept nothing down. The broth and water seems to be your only diet to make having it come right back up less disgusting.

You were dripping in sweat, your head running so hot you wondered if the fire of the torch would even burn you. Sometime in the hours, or days that had passed you would see things your mind told you to not believe. Some of it you knew, most of it felt like a life that was beyond understanding.

Laying in bed, there was rain pouring out the high windows that blended with the river in the distance, the light of the moon dripping you in shades of blue matching his bright eyes as you lay bare on your side into the equally as bare chest of another. His hand drifting across your stomach so gently in touch as you nuzzled into their neck. The feeling of his curls dancing around your cheek before the strings begun.

The begun and as they played you opened your eyes in the same position as his hand raised now soaked in blood. Looking to you his blue eyes were in a terrified horror before you could see them go out all the same. Only as you lay there on your side, feeling the blood rushing from your stomach like it was to never end, did the room twist and turn to a red.

Red tones and fire all around as a voice in a foreign accent spoke in your ear. Their red hair hanging low as she spoke and if you had the strength to turn you could see the tight red ruby choked around her neck as she spoke. “Your Great Wolf to stand with you and your children together.”

You wanted to turn and lash out, scream that he was dead and so was the child in your womb but all that happened was blood rushing now from your mouth too. Too much blood that you begun to choke on it as you turned to her the red ruby trailing up until a pair of eyes met yours. Eyes of blue that sat on the head of a wolf it did not belong with, only as the faint chanting begun did your eyes snap open.

Turning to the corner behind you did you violently cough up nothing but water and bitter bile that scraped at your throat. One hand pressed against the wall and the other braced on the floor as you brought up what was hardly even there. Your throat burned as your stomach did, the servant who was bringing it down for you to drink would tell you it is to cleanse your system of the rot and it only felt like it spread violently.

No sense of night or day, you hardly even had enough resolve to pay attention to the schedule of the guards. The servant of the Maester seemed kind, but he was a young boy who didn’t know any better you suspected. No one else spoke to you, or much looked at you.

As you heaved to catch your breathe in between the pressure on your chest as you spit up more bile, you wondered if it mattered anymore. If none of them knew who you were, it would not matter what happened to you you maybe life would be easier if you just died on them.

It would be easier for you as well. But there was nothing for such a thing in the cell. Just dirt, and your own fluids that mixed horribly. If any were to find you now, they’d easily mistaken you for a filthy craven, and you felt like one.

You barley heard the footstep over the heaves of your breathe until they were speaking to you right outside the bars. “Oh my word,” Gasping you flung yourself back, almost pressing up against the wall with fright. You barley could recognize the fellow kneeling down looking at you, but you think perhaps he was in the courtyard when greeting Roose.

Hair dark to an almost black and laid flat across his forehead with eeiry pale blue eyes that were wide as they looked at you. You said nothing, untrusting of any face that looked at you in such a place. Looking you over, he sighed to himself. “I heard we had a guest, but such a shame to find you in a state such as this, my lady.”

Straightening your back, you dragged your knees up to your chest, as you narrowed your eyes. He simply shrugged to himself before holding a hand out through the bars, seeing you not move an inch as he grimaced and pulled back even slower. “Not a woman for formalities, I can understand that. Especially in a state such as this,” whistling out he looked you over in a way you could only describe as making you feel even dirtier then you were. “Why they didn’t even bother offering you new clothes, you’re stuck in the same bloody ones as you arrived. That will not do, a lady should at least have a pretty dress to go with such a pretty face.”

“What do you want?”

He reacted none to the bluntness, your voice scratched badly like claw marks scraped down your throat. “Well I would be remiss if I didn’t pay the late Queen in the North a visit.” You bit your tongue to the point it threatened to bleed, it was a mockery. Is that what you were supposed to see yourself as anymore, here thrown away in the dungeons to waste in the home of the very man who murdered your king? “Oh, I’m so sorry. Sensitive subject, I know.”

His voice was so exaggerated in his inauthenticity, you bought not a word and you thought you likely weren’t supposed to. “If you’ve come down here to mock me, fair not. Bolton’s men have seen fit to do that the entire journey, I am not with a lack of torment.”

It felt so unnerving, his eyes. The way they lingered on you in ways you couldn’t immediately detect the intention of and a glint behind them that terrified you beyond what anything you’d see. But you were lucky, you were too faded inside to show it as he spoke once more. “You wound me, my lady. We’re in the North you see, we supported our King in the North and his Queen. But, I suppose if he’s good and dead that doesn’t really make you one anymore does it?”

You didn’t care if you were a queen, you cared that you were Robb’s wife and now you broke your promise to stay together. You swore a vow in love and now you sat with his blood in your mouth and son dead from your womb. “Then again, you are still a Baratheon, does that make you a princess now? No, that doesn’t seem quite right either does it. A girl like you doesn’t scream princess.”

Finding the strength to turn away from him, you looked at the nothing of the dark wall. Your name quiet on your lips. “That’s all I am I suppose.”

“I seem to have you at a disadvantage, I know your name my lady but you don’t know mine do you? You’ve likely heard of me, most call me Ramsay, others call me Roose Bolton’s bastard son.” Your back chilled as you shivered, despite the sweat and the heat in your mind. So his family is all in on it, that was just what you needed to hear.

Turning your head to face him as it leaned against the wall, you raised an eyebrow dully. “Did you want something, or can I die in peace?”

He tsked as he stood up. “Now my lady, you can’t die. We haven’t spent nearly enough time together for me to be sick of you. I came to tell you, once you’re better, I can find you a nice room, a hot bath and we’ll see about any nice, pretty dresses we can get for you.”

Clearly, he did not care if you bought into him. It didn’t matter if you left this cell or not, you couldn’t see past the blood and the fog in your head marred by the strings of music. He only took a few steps away before spinning back to you in a dramatic fashion.

“How silly of me, I did come here with a present actually. You see, I have a little task I have to leave for, and I just couldn’t bear the thought if something happened to him and you didn’t get a chance to meet each other. My own servant, a very special boy I’ve whipped him up to be.” You narrowed your eyes as you felt your limbs weigh too much, you’d have passed out from exhaustion were he still not insisting on talking.

“If he does a good job while we’re away, I may just start lending him to you once we get you back on your feet. I’m sure he will be the perfect company. Reek, come say hello.” If you had anything left to bring back up to the surface of the world, you would have.

Instead you lost all breathe, head spinning as you found the appearance of this so called present. Much like you, marred in grime and dirt and sickly appearance to their skin that matched with the matted hair grown out. As if their entire existence was in a detrimental fear, you felt a weight in your throat that kept you from any words.

Dark eyes that refused to look at a thing slowly drifted upwards until they met the agony of yours and your heart pounded until it flattened to nothing and left you woozy. There was a recognition in his eyes that you were to delusional and feverish to understand.

Something that in Ramsay’s delight of torment, did not see. A pain of who he was looking at and what state they both had ended up in, alone in the world trapped within the confines of the family of flayers and torturers. “Now Reek, it’s not polite to stare. I’m sure the lady isn’t quite ready so soon after her husbands tragic death, besides not like you have the ability to do anything about it.”

He shook and you narrowed your eyes in confusion with a tilt of your head, you felt the need to vomit once more as the potion swam through your stomach like it had for days now. Leaving you once more, Ramsay had to pull him away when he took half a second too long to part from your eyes. The dungeons fell quiet and dark once more and your mind only had enough time to feel even more confused until your stomach forced more burning up.

“And Theon? I want him brought to me alive. I want to look him in the eye and ask him why. Then I’ll take his head myself.”

Collapsing to the ground with a cry of pain, you curled up with your knees back against your chest. The hurt and betrayal on his face that day, the way only you seemed to give him any peace as you both stood unified in what he commanded. But this was no longer such a day, such a time.

The blue eyes you wanted to see were darker then those pale ones, and with an adoration you wanted to scream at. Robb didn’t want this for you, Theon. Neither of us did, you thought. You demanded justice at Robb’s side, but this was not justice.

If what you were holding back cries of pain for was not justice, you couldn’t imagine what found it’s way into his terror to make Theon Greyjoy look as frail and petrified as you felt.

He was fighting to call himself one or the other. Reek was screeching in his head that he would be punished for this, but Theon kept climbing the stairs anyways. It was quite late, and he was already under orders to bring you a meal but he was not given orders to speak to you. So why was he walking down and fighting to not do so?

Walk in, open the gate, sit the food down and return like Reek was ordered to do, but as he stood outside the cell door, it was like for a moment Theon screamed at him and sent Reek down past his consciousness. Voice stammering and weak did he mutter your name, he did it twice and maybe if he had to do it a third he would chicken out and leave. But you looked.

Sat against the wall with your knees to your chest, arms wrapped around them and your head tucked in the middle, you rose up and it was clear as day the tears. Theon wasn’t sure he’s ever seen you cry. Very few would have and you were good at keeping it to yourself, but then again, Theon was good at many things Reek was not.

Placing a small vial on the ground before moving to sit the tray beside you. He couldn’t even stammer out the words before you huffed out another tearful cry and kicked the tray from you. Sending him back in a jump. The way you looked up at him, who even were you on the inside? Did you not see yourself anymore as Theon saw Reek in his reflection? Had you even seen the state of yourself, eyes dulled to a weakness you’d never shown, eye still discoloured from where someone must have hit you and a flush to your skin that he knew came from having nothing in your system.

What happened? How did it happen? How did Robb-

He breathed out heavily as he snapped his head to attention. It poured out before he could stop himself from saying it. “I was wrong. I- I took Winterfell and I was wrong…” You said nothing. Your lips parted but closed once more with a heavy swallow. “I…”

“Theon,” your voice was so quiet. Somewhere in his mind, he recalled the people called you the Silent Stag, always quiet you were but just as notable. But this quiet wasn’t that, this was a whisper that worried it was too loud even in the stone of a dungeon. “I..we didn’t- it’s my fault.” You inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut for the action before opening them with a calmer look that refused to look at him.

“I didn’t know they’d do this..any of this..and we sent them. I’m sorry.”

Both inside him struggled how to feel, Reek had nothing to accept an apology for and yet Theon knelt forward to the ground. Crouching he slowly opened the vial with a shaky breathe before holding it to you. He wanted to speak and you could see it but neither pushed until he whispered it out like a deathly vow being broken as you drunk the liquid. “I didn’t kill them. Bran and Rickon. I didn’t kill them, I lied.”

Your lips fell open as neither of you looked anywhere but between your bodies on the floor. “Roose Bolton killed Robb. Shoved a knife in his heart, and a few times in me.” Likely you didn’t know why you showed him, or even told him, but Theon’s breathing quickened as you lifted the fabric. The skin underneath was utterly blood soaked in ways he’d only ever seen on those of the dead. But why were they on you if you were here? “If that isn’t vengeance..”

Theon wanted to stay and talk, but Reek heard the sounds of footsteps far in the distance and tore himself back. “I-” He didn’t look you in the eye, he couldn’t at this point. “I’ll come back.”

Your voice was far away, your eyes had lulled shut back into a dream of stringed nightmares as you muttered, “Of course you will. He’ll order you too.”

Your nails were bloody, but you think it was starting to carve properly. The nothing drawing in the wall that kept you occupied for most of the day now. It was silent for a while once you were better, guards came to bring you a meal and then it was back into the quiet. There was no outside world here, no wars once fought, no lives trying to find peace, nothing. Just the walls of your cell, and the carving you were scraping into the stone wall.

No sense of time came to you, it could have been years and you would be none the wiser of anything. Another war could have come and passed, not an inkling would’ve found you. You only saw the guards and the dungeon. You only dreamt of the blood and the strings as you awoke everytime knowing you failed him.

Every attempt to come out into your soul was hollow, something was missing and it was part of what made you human. You could only see the curls against blue eyes that looked to you desperate not to see you go. It broke your heart everytime you saw him.

The horror in your heart was settled somewhat in those final seconds, you would go together as you promised. From this day until our last day. And yet his last day was not yours, and you lived on without him. Guilt and shame ate away at you for breaking your vow to always be together, wherever his soul sat with the gods now you wondered if Robb was ashamed of you.

You lived on without him, and you lost his unborn son. There was nothing left of Robb Stark with you anymore and the only proof he ever was, was a scar running so jaggedly along your lower stomach that you could feel each time Roose stabbed it back inside you. Tracing it gently enough with your fingers. A terrible stroke of luck, or was it the gods forcing it onto you?

Because the longer you sat in that silence alone, the more you came up with ways to fix it. What reason were you to still be here, why were you still alive if your existence was less then a rats. It wouldn’t be easy in here, but you could do it if you were really desperate. You wanted to the more weeks passed into months as you were alone down here. Shut away from the world, a dead wife to the King in the North, sequestered down in a dingy cell in the Dreadfort. Captive of the family who did this to you, and nothing to do but think of how much Robb would hate what you’ve become.

This shell was not the woman he fell in love with, and you weren’t entirely sure you could even get that woman back now. Maybe part of you really did die beside him, and what remains in your body now is just the base of grief and anger that will burn through you until you’ve had enough.

The gods were cruel however. The day he came to see you, it was the understanding of why they bothered to keep you alive. A confident man, Roose Bolton walked up to your cell with the same collected look he has had since the day you met him. Glancing around the cell, he could see you made very little use of the space, as if always having to be positioned against the bars to see the opening of the main door.

“I assume by now you realize no one is coming for you.” Your eyes glared up at him in a silent contemptuous irritation. “The Seven Kingdoms all think you’re dead. Tragically killed at the side of your husband-”

“They know you’re the one who put a knife to him? Or have you let Walder Frey take all of the credit for that?” Roose raised an eyebrow at you, unexpected of the sharp and angry tone that came from an otherwise unwell prisoner. “Suppose it isn’t really you who the southerners care about anyways. You get to claim you killed an unarmed King, and his pregnant wife when you only did it because you had Tywin Lannister to hide behind the skirts of.”

Stepping forward to you, he looked down with ease as you craned your neck up to find his own, the anger in your voice did not match your eyes. “It is encouraging see you have put your time down here to good use. I kill Robb Stark and yourself, and in return I am given the title Warden of the North until the son of Sansa and Tyrion Lannister comes of age to take over. Unfortunately, there has been a problem in his planning.”

You twisted your face at the unpleasant imagery.

“Sansa has fled King’s Landing after the murder of King Joffery, and her imp husband is to go on trial.” A year ago you would have been thrilled at the news that your repulsive once cousin was dead, now though it was a non victory that felt hollow. The world indeed kept turning outside the walls and you were none the wiser of a single tinge of it. “Sansa’s son by Tyrion was intended to be the key to the North for the Lannisters as they have no other ties, now there is no child to inherit the North from me.”

Biting your tongue, you exhaled harshly through your nose to will the angry beating of your heart down to something manageable. “Did you come here to gloat about your new title or did you just want to remind me of what you’ve done.”

“My men are reclaiming what’s left of the Ironborn that stands in the road to Winterfell, and we will soon move there once my son has cleared the way. You will be coming with us. Willingly.”

Your voice scratched as you huffed a laugh, “And do tell, my lord. Why would I ever go with you willingly?” You watched as he knelt in front of you, and the frustration in your voice did not match how you pressed yourself against the wall further.

With every inch of your body you hated the quiet calm in his voice as he nodded to your attire. “Because if you do, I will make sure you are cleaned, properly fed, groom you up and dress you like a lady and not like that creature my son drags around. You won’t be able to leave the castle walls, or go anywhere outside without being under guard. But I won’t throw you back into a cell.”

Not a thought came to you that imagined yourself like that anymore. Your life was drenched in blood and memories of pain that blurred out the rest in it’s grief. Would you feel more like a person to even just breathe fresh air? Was that worth playing along with the man who betrayed his people and murdered your king and child?

Roose did not wait for any kind of response, moving towards the cell door when you asked, “Why? If I’m just a prisoner why bring me to Winterfell? No one even knows I’m alive, what would it matter if you keep me locked away in here?”

The blood inside you cooled to a freeze as you looked wide eyed with a hesitant fear that you know he caught onto. “If Ramsay is successful in retaking Moat Cailin, he will be granted a legitimate son and become a Bolton. The Lannisters won’t help me keep the North, but perhaps I don’t need them to. All the Stark men are dead, which means if Ramsay is a Bolton, he will be my firstborn son and heir. And he will be needing one of his own.”

Roose didn’t elaborate but he didn’t need to. You almost begun to bite your tongue so hard on unknowing it could have bled. You felt sick as you had days ago, but this was an illness rooted in a fear and bloody memories of your last. “You truly think I would ever let him-”

One eyebrow raised, his voice was patronizing as it was condescending. “Do you think you have any choice in the matter? Shall I reminder you how it is the world works?”

You glared up with as much energy as you could summon, a sneer on your own face as you sharply bit back, “Do use small words, my lord. I’m not as bright as you.”

You didn’t expect it to even effect him in the slightest. He rarely budged on anything, especially now when it is was he holds all the power. “You are a highborn lady, and if my son should succeed he will be a legitimate highborn to inherit my own lordship. You are also my prisoner, and I don’t think I need to remind you of my own stance on prisoner treatment. Ramsay doesn’t need your permission to use you to produce an heir.”

Do not show anything else you told yourself, do not let him see the fear in your heart. “I’m not a Northerner, Lord Bolton. I have no claim that could help you.”

A lightness in his eyes was the most genuine you had seen in since that night and you felt even more ill thinking on it. “No, but you were the Queen that Robb Stark chose, you were the Queen every Northern chose, my lady. That is claim enough for what we require.”

By the time you found any bravery left in your voice you called out to him before he could leave you alone in the darkness of the dungeon once more. “Did you ever believe in him? Or was it all just a lie the entire time? You served him for almost three years, was none of it ever true?”

Roose sounded as if he was giving a simple order to a servant, no care for his monstrosity. “I believed in Robb Stark right up until I shoved my dagger covered in your blood into his chest. But loyalty does not buy me money or power, and Tywin Lannister simply had the better offer.” The dagger sat on his waist, blood for you to see and all. You’d felt many illnesses down here, but it was that which made you loose every sense left to you.

The door closed and once more you were left in darkness. You weren’t sure when the tears had started, but this time you let them fall until your eyes dried out like sands in the Dornish summer.

You should have died with Robb, and you truly were beginning to think it was necessary to find a way to go back to him, one way or another. He had told you once you in those days before your wedding that you belonged in Winterfell, but what was your belonging in such a place without the wolves to keep you company?

The gods granted you a chilling answer to that question when some time later, they sent Ramsay Bolton down to your cell in the middle of the night, a disturbing glint in his unsettling pale eyes trained only on you.

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

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ladyalicentshightower · 2 years

Text

From a 21st century perspective, yes Rhaenyra's sons do not need to be biologically her husband's sons to inherit from her, that wouldn't even be a question. It's a scenario we cannot understand, regarding it with modern values but Westeros does not share our modern values. Westeros first and foremost is a patriarchal society.

Women in this world are meant to marry, give their husbands children and make heirs and above all else obey, that is it. This society routinely shames women who enjoy sex, who engage in sex prior to or outside of their marriage. Men can do as they like. Illegitimate children however, who are born from these dalliances, are not looked upon kindly in this world. They are seen as inherently sinful for being born from "sin". There is a huge stigma against them simply for being. They face huge prejudice based their birth amongst the small folk, let alone amongst the nobility. Remember how Jon Snow was treated. The stark contrast between how people treated him compared to Robb. Catelyn's hatred of him for what he represented (ie Ned's betrayal of her). That is all still very relevant despite the 100 year time jump between GOT/ASOIAF and HOTD.

Rhaenyra and Laenor privately have an arrangement but publicly she is shamed by this society as she is dogged by rumours regarding the night in the brothel with Daemon, the fallout between herself and Criston Cole, her relationship with Harwin and her sons clear Strong looks. She is viewed as cuckolding Laenor, dishonoring and shaming him, his house, her father who arranged the match and the faith of the seven. Alicent's "three is an insult" line is the view held by many in this world. By remaining heir even though she is a woman and her father now has sons, Rhaenyra is seen as an usurper taking what - in this world - should've been Aegon's by right since his birth. Viserys has done the unprecedented in this world (outside of Dorne). The question of her sons' paternity and their obvious Strong looks, has people regard them as usurpers too for taking their uncles' places in the line of succession despite them being illegitimate, while their uncles' legitimacy has never been in doubt. It doesn't matter that Laenor claims them, it's about the perception. Many in Westeros would simply assume he just didn't want to admit that he'd be cuckolded by his wife.

Appearance and reputation is everything, no matter who 1 has a claim and 2 wants to ascend the iron throne, they will need backing from the lords. At the great council, Rhaenys had the stronger claim but the Lords choose Viserys because he was male. They choose to overlook not just Rhaenys' but also Laenor's claim to the throne, establishing that the male bloodline is preferred over the female one. Alicent's sons inherit their claim to the throne from Viserys, Rhaenyra's sons inherit their claim throne from her. Automatically, whether they were legitimate or not, many see Rhaenyra's sons as having the weaker claim compared to Alicent's sons. If any Lord were to overlook the boys' paternity and back them as heir, they wouldn't do so as long as a legitimate male heirs still lived (in this case either Aegon, Aemond or Daeron), and at that, even if all of Alicent's sons dead and childless, were Helaena to have a legitimate son, that may be the claimant the lord's back rather than one of Rhaenyra's illegitimate sons.

"But it's Viserys' will that Rhaenyra!" Viserys is not a well man, few Lords will adhere to his will, believing his sanity to be question due to his illness and putting his insistence that Rhaenyra be his heir as a symptom of his illness. He's for instance calling Alicent by Aemma's name and has to receive assistance in order to do a speech. When he dies, he is no longer king, what he wanted and what he decreed will no longer matter. In real history, Edward VI declared Lady Jane Grey to be his heir. After he died, Jane was Queen for nine days before being executed by Mary I. Mary had the stronger claim (as a daughter of Henry VIII rather than a descendant of Henry VIII's sister Mary as Jane was) and the backing of the lords. She was the oldest child but she had to wait for Edward, her father Henry VIII's only legitimate living son to take the throne first. Elizabeth I, whose mother was charged with adultery (there's heavy debate on whether any of the charges brought against Anne Boleyn were true but nevertheless the perception of her at the time was less than positive), had to wait for her brother to ascend the throne and then Mary, who was also declared illegitimate by their father but who's mother was remembered fondly and as the one who was wronged by Henry VIII, to become Queen before she was considered an actual candidate for the throne because she was the last legitimate descendant of the male bloodline of Henry VII (his eldest son Arthur died young and Elizabeth I was the last of Henry VIII's kids) and Mary was unlikely to have children with her absent husband. Before someone says that's irrelevant, GRRM takes heavy inspiration from history especially medieval England and the wars of roses and the Tudors.

Looking at HOTD with a modern gaze without considering the cultural context within the story means we can misinterpret and misunderstood what is unfolding on screen.

I'm not going to justify or defend Alicent's behavior because I can't (welcome to Westeros, every single character is flawed and problematic and a majority have dubious or questionable morals. Yes even your fave. Spoiler alert no one by the end of the dance is an unproblematic hero. They all do horrific things, some of you could do with remembering that), but if you take in the world and society she exists in, it's no freaking wonder she thinks that way. I'm not saying her behavior is without pride or snobbery because it isn't, she, like many in Westeros, believe Rhaenyra's sons to be fundamentally beneath her but to pretend her reaction to them is somehow ridiculous or incomprehensible means you're ignoring the cultural and societal norms of this world, norms that are integral to this story in particular.

#hotd #hotd spoilers #house of the dragon #house of the dragon spoilers #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen

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skrutskie · 2 years

Audio

It’s... well past that time again, but in my defense, I was a little busy (👀). But better late than never—here’s the playlist for VOWS OF EMPIRE. Roughly in story-order, as usual, so think about it too hard at your own risk.

Shoot to Thrill // AC/DC // i’m gonna take you down / yeah down down down / so don’t you fool around // a song for toppling out the back of a shuttle after revealing your deepest darkest secret

Carry Your Throne // Jon Bellion // if you’re lost in this darkness / i’ll carry your throne / no i won’t let it swallow you whole // a song for imperials against all odds

Young Fathers // Typhoon // i just called to tell you / i just called to say / learned all your mistakes / passed down through generations // a song for coming into the sins of your legacy

Carried Away // Passion Pit // i’m your friend, don’t quote me / but not a friend worth noting / yes please don’t ever note me as your friend // a song for gal and hanji putting their heads together

Cobrastyle // Teddybears // my style is di bom di bom di deng di deng digi-digi // a song for wraith squadron shenanigans

Lonely Boy // The Black Keys // oh, oh-oh, i got a love that keeps me waiting / a song for plotting a reunion

Wild Heart // Bleachers // to think everything must die for anyone to matter / gotta find any way to your wild heart // a song for balconies and breha at night

The Whip // Locksley // you pull up in some guy’s car around four / i punch him, kiss, then carry you inside // a song for keeping the wraiths at bay for a night

THAT’S WHAT I WANT // Lil Nas X // tell me lies, we can argue, we can fight / yeah we did it before, but we’ll do it tonight // a song for a free hour

Out Of The Woods // Taylor Swift // we were built to fall apart / then fall back together // a song for breha rooftops and finding the answer

Here It Goes Again // OK Go // just when you think you’re in control / just when you think you’ve got a hold / just when you get on a roll // a song for “betrayal”

Little Game // The Colourist // was i your hit and run? left for dead and now you’re gone // a song for going back to the sides you belong on

Greek Tragedy // The Wombats // cars are flipping, i’m in hot pursuit / my character’s strong but my head is loose // a song for you and your girl

Let’s Get Married // Bleachers // i know it’s bad when we look out / but bad, bad people don’t live in our house, so— // a song for an imperial wedding

Genghis Khan // Miike Snow // but the waves hit my head / to think someone’s in your bed // a song for gal in crisis

Everybody Talks // Neon Trees // i could hear the chit chat / take me to your love shack // a song for the newlyweds

Shout out to My Ex // Patent Pending // forget that boy i’m over it // a song for gal laying it on thick

Your Love Could Start a War // The Unlikely Candidates // you’re burning up the sky / you’re a constellation / swear i could die in this revelation // a song for gal’s command

Horns // Bryce Fox // in her heart is a hole / there’s a black mark on her soul // a song for sole bloodright

HUMBLE // Kendrick Lamar // nobody pray for me / it been that day for me // a song for the full force of the imperial fleet

Little Black Submarines // The Black Keys // i should’ve seen it glow / but everybody knows that a broken heart is blind // a song for tactics out the window, nothing but revenge

Lightning Tent // Wildlife // you can rely on me / i will always let you down // a song for one last betrayal

Lion // Saint Mesa // you’re like an empress / you’ve got fire running down your cheeks / you burn everything you see // a song for her total victory

Rumble And Sway // Jamie N Commons // don’t you tell me no truths / i want all of your lies // a song for a solid kick out the airlock

Dying to Live // Smallpools // my shield of rusted metal / can’t keep this world from falling apart / so let’s tear this down together // a song for an antidote

Kiss This // The Struts // i did all i could / so kiss this one last time ‘cause i’m gone for good // a song for superluminal, battlefield at your back

City // ADHDS // let’s run away from uninspired lives and find our place together in the sun / we won’t look back, we’ll just enjoy our time / braving stormy weather / you and me together on the run // a song for us

#booklr #bonds of brass #vows of empire #emily skrutskie #the bloodright trilogy #playlist

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cappymightwrite · 3 years

Note

What draws you to incest ?

*sighs* Ok, here we go. I'm a real card carrying Jonsa now aren't I?

Anon, listen. I know this is an anti question that gets bandied about a lot, aimed at provoking, etc, when we all know no Jonsa is out here being all you know what, it really is the incest, and the incest alone, that draws me in. I mean, come on now. Grow up.

If I was "drawn" to incest I'd be a fan of Cersei x Jaime, Lucrezia x Cesare, hell Oedipus x Jocasta etc... but I haven't displayed any interest in them now, have I? So, huh, it can't be that.

Frankly, it's a derivitive question that is really missing the mark. I'm not "drawn" to it, though yeah, it is an unavoidable element of Jonsa. The real question you should be asking though, is what draws GRRM to it? Because he obviously is drawn to it, specifically what is termed the "incest motif" in academic and literary scholarship. That is a far more worthwhile avenue of thinking and questioning, compared with asking me. Luckily for you though anon, I sort of anticipated getting this kind of question so had something in my drafts on standby...

You really don't have to look far, or that deeply, to be hit over the head by the connection between GRRM's literary influences and the incest motif. I mean, let's start with the big cheese himself, Tolkein:

Tolkein + Quenta Silmarillion

We know for definite that GRRM has been influenced by Tolkein, and in The Silmarillion you notably have a case of unintentional incest in Quenta Silmarillion, where Túrin Turambar, under the power of a curse, unwittingly murders his friend, as well as marries and impregnates his sister, Nienor Níniel, who herself had lost her memory due to an enchantment.

Mr Tolkein, "what draws you to incest?"

Old Norse + Völsunga saga

Tolkein, as a professor of Anglo-Saxon, was hugely influenced by Old English and Old Norse literature. The story of the ring Andvaranaut, told in Völsunga saga, is strongly thought to have been a key influence behind The Lord of the Rings. Also featured within this legendary saga is the relationship between the twins Signy and Sigmund — at one point in the saga, Signy tricks her brother into sleeping with her, which produces a son, Sinfjotli, of pure Völsung blood, raised with the singular purpose of enacting vengence.

Anonymous Norse saga writer, "what draws you to incest?"

Medieval Literature as a whole

A lot is made of how "true" to the storied past ASOIAF is, how reflective it is of medieval society (and earlier), its power structures, its ideals and martial values etc. ASOIAF, however, is not attempting historical accuracy, and should not be read as such. Yet it is clearly drawing from a version of the past, as depicted in medieval romances and pre-Christian mythology for instance, as well as dusty tomes on warfare strategy. As noted by Elizabeth Archibald in her article Incest in Medieval Literature and Society (1989):

Of course the Middle Ages inherited and retold a number of incest stories from the classical world. Through Statius they knew Oedipus, through Ovid they knew the stories of Canace, Byblis, Myrrha and Phaedra. All these stories end more or less tragically: the main characters either die or suffer metamorphosis. Medieval readers also knew the classical tradition of incest as a polemical accusation,* for instance the charges against Caligula and Nero. – p. 2

The word "polemic" is connected to controversy, to debate and dispute, therefore these classical texts were exploring the incest motif in order to create discussion on a controversial topic. In a way, your question of "what draws you to incest?" has a whiff of polemical accusation to it, but as I stated, you're missing the bigger question.

Moving back to the Middle Ages, however, it is interesting that we do see a trend of more incest stories appearing within new narratives between the 11th and 13th centuries, according to Archibald:

The texts I am thinking of include the legend of Judas, which makes him commit patricide and then incest before betraying Christ; the legend of Gregorius, product of sibling incest who marries his own mother, but after years of rigorous penance finally becomes a much respected pope; the legend of St Albanus, product of father-daughter incest, who marries his mother, does penance with both his parents but kills them when they relapse into sin, and after further penance dies a holy man; the exemplary stories about women who sleep with their sons, and bear children (whom they sometimes kill), but refuse to confess until the Virgin intervenes to save them; the legends of the incestuous begetting of Roland by Charlemagne and of Mordred by Arthur; and finally the Incestuous Father romances about calumniated wives, which resemble Chaucer's Man of Law's Tale except that the heroine's adventures begin when she runs away from home to escape her father's unwelcome advances. – p. 2

I mean... that last bit sounds eerily quite close to what we have going on with Petyr Baelish and Sansa Stark. But I digress. What I'm trying to say is that from a medieval and classical standpoint... GRRM is not unique in his exploration of the incest motif, far from it.

Sophocles, Ovid, Hartmann von Aue, Thomas Malory, etc., "what draws you to incest?"

Faulkner + The Sound and the Fury, and more!

Moving on to more modern influences though, when talking about the writing ethos at the heart of his work, GRRM has famously quoted William Faulker:

His mantra has always been William Faulkner’s comment in his Nobel prize acceptance speech, that only the “human heart in conflict with itself… is worth writing about”. [source]

I’ve never read any Faulker, so I did just a quick search on “Faulkner and incest” and I pulled up this article on JSTOR, called Faulkner and the Politics of Incest (1998). Apparently, Faulkner explores the incest motif in at least five novels, therefore it was enough of a distinctive theme in his work to warrant academic analysis. In this journal article, Karl F. Zender notes that:

[...] incest for Faulkner always remains tragic [...] – p. 746

Ah, we can see a bit of running theme here, can't we? But obviously, GRRM (one would hope) doesn’t just appreciate Faulkner’s writing for his extensive exploration of incest. This quote possibly sums up the potential artistic crossover between the two:

Beyond each level of achieved empathy in Faulkner's fiction stands a further level of exclusion and marginalization. – pp. 759–60

To me, the above parallels somewhat GRRM’s own interest in outcasts, in personal struggle (which incest also fits into):

I am attracted to bastards, cripples and broken things as is reflected in the book. Outcasts, second-class citizens for whatever reason. There’s more drama in characters like that, more to struggle with. [source]

Interestingly, however, this essay on Faulkner also connects his interest in the incest motif with the romantic poets, such as Percy Bysshe Shelley and Lord Byron:

As Peter Thorslev says in an important study of romantic representations of incest, " [p]arent-child incest is universally condemned in Romantic literature...; sibling incest, on the other hand, is invariably made sympathetic, is sometimes exonerated, and, in Byron's and Shelley's works, is definitely idealized.” – p. 741

Faulkner, "what draws you to incest?" ... I mean, that article gives some good explanations, actually.

Lord Byron, Manfred + The Bride of Abydos

Which brings us onto GRRM interest in the Romantics:

I was always intensely Romantic, even when I was too young to understand what that meant. But Romanticism has its dark side, as any Romantic soon discovers... which is where the melancholy comes in, I suppose. I don't know if this is a matter of artistic influences so much as it is of temperament. But there's always been something in a twilight that moves me, and a sunset speaks to me in a way that no sunrise ever has. [source]

I'm already in the process of writing a long meta about the influence of Lord Byron in ASOIAF, specifically examining this quote by GRRM:

The character I’m probably most like in real life is Samwell Tarly. Good old Sam. And the character I’d want to be? Well who wouldn’t want to be Jon Snow — the brooding, Byronic, romantic hero whom all the girls love. Theon [Greyjoy] is the one I’d fear becoming. Theon wants to be Jon Snow, but he can’t do it. He keeps making the wrong decisions. He keeps giving into his own selfish, worst impulses. [source]

Lord Byron, "what draws you to—", oh, um, right. Nevermind.

I'm not going to repeat myself here, but it's worth noting that there is a clear through line between GRRM and the Romantic writers, besides perhaps melancholic "temperament"... and it's incest.

But look, is choosing to explore the incest motif...well, a choice? Yeah, and an uncomfortable one at that, but it’s obvious that that is what GRRM is doing. I think it’s frankly a bit naive of some people to argue that GRRM would never do Jonsa because it’s pseudo-incest and therefore morally repugnant, no ifs, no buts. I’m sorry, as icky as it may be to our modern eyes, GRRM has set the president for it in his writing with the Targaryens and the Lannister twins.

The difference with them is that they knowingly commit incest, basing it in their own sense of exceptionalism, and there are/will be bad consequences — this arguably parallels the medieval narratives in which incest always ends badly, unless some kind of real penance is involved. For Jon and Sansa, however, the Jonsa argument is that they will choose not to commit incest, despite a confused attraction, and then will be rewarded in the narrative through the parentage reveal, a la Byron’s The Bride of Abydos. The Targaryens and Lannisters, in several ways excluding the incest (geez the amount of times I’ve written incest in this post), are foils for the Starks, and in particular, Jon and Sansa. Exploring the incest motif has been on the cards since the very beginning — just look at that infamous "original" outline — regardless of whether we personally consider that an interesting writing choice, or a morally inexcusable one.

Word of advice, or rather, warning... don't think you can catch me out with these kinds of questions. I have access to a university database, so if I feel like procrastinating my real academic work, I can and will pull out highly researched articles to school you, lmao.

But you know, thanks for the ask anyway, I guess.

#cappy's thoughts #I'm still on my break/hiatus #i just had some of this already written #jonsa #jon x sansa #anti bs #grrm and medieval literature #grrm and william faulkner #grrm and the romantics #grrm and tolkein #grrm and old norse literature #grrm and his literary influences #was this petty lmao?

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casxmorgan · 3 years

Text

Books Books Books

100 Years of Solitude

11.22.63

120 Days of Sodom

1491

1984

A Brief History of Time

A Canticle for Leibowitz

A Child Called It

A Clockwork Orange

A Confederacy of Dunces

A History of the World in Ten and a Half Chapters

A Land Fit for Heroes Trilogy

A Little Life

A Naked Singularity

A People's History of the United States

A Scanner Darkly

A Series of Unfortunate Events

A Short History of Nearly Everything

A Song of Ice and Fire

A Storm of Swords

A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again: Essays and Arguments

A Thousand Splendid Suns

A Walk in the Woods

A World Lit Only by Fire

Accursed Kings

Alice in Wonderland

All Quiet on the Western Front

All the Light We Cannot See

All the Pretty Horses

America, the Book

American Gods

American Psycho

And then There Were None

Angela’s Ashes

Animal Farm

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

Anna Karenina

Anything Terry Pratchett, But, Mort is My Favorite

Anything Written by Robin Hobb

Apt Pupil

Artemis Fowl

Asimov's Guide to the Bible

Asoiaf

Atlas Shrugged

Bartimeaus

Batman: the Long Halloween

Battle Royale

Beat the Turtle Drum

Behind the Beautiful Forevers

Belgariad Series

Beloved

Berserk

Bestiario

Black Company

Blankets/habibi

Blind Faith

Blindness

Blood Meridian

Blood and Guts: a History of Surgery

Bluest Eye

Brandon Sanderson

Brave New World

Breakfast of Champions

Bridge to Terabithia

Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: an Indian History of the American West

Calvin and Hobbs

Candide

Carrie

Cat's Cradle

Catch 22

Cats Cradle

Chaos

Child of God

Choke

Chuck Palahniuk

City of Ember

City of Thieves

Cloud

Collapse

Come Closer

Complaint

Confessions of a Mask

Contact

Conversation in the Cathedral

Cosmos

Crime and Punishment

Dan Brown

David

Dead Birds Singing

Dead Mountain: the Untold True Story of the Dyatlov Pass Incident

Delta Venus

Die Räuber (the Robbers)

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep

Don Quixote

Dragonlance

Dune

Dying of the Light

East of Eden

Educated

Empire of Sin: a Story of Sex, Jazz, Murder, and the Battle for Modern New Orleans

Enders Game

Enders Shadow

Escape from Camp 14

Ever Since Darwin

Every Man Dies Alone

Everybody Poops

Everything is Illuminated

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Fahrenheit 451

Far from the Madding Crowd

Faust

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S Thompson

Feet of Clay

Fight Club

First Law

Flowers for Algernon

Flowers in the Attic

Foundation

Foundation Series

Foundation Trilogy

Frankenstein

Freakonomics

Fun Home

Galapagos

Geek Love

Gerald’s Game

Ghost Story

Go Ask Alice

Go Dog Go

Godel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid

Goldfinch

Gone Girl

Gone with the Wind

Good Omens

Grapes of Wrath

Great Expectations

Greg Egan

Guards! Guards!

Guns Germs and Steel

Guts (short Story)

Half a World

Ham on Rye

Hannibal Rising

Hard Boiled Wonderland

Hatchet

Haunted

Hawaii

Heart Shaped Box

Heart of Darkness

Hellbound Heart

Hellraiser

Hell’s Angels

Helter Skelter

His Dark Materials

Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

Hogg

Holocaust by Bullets

House of Leaves

How to Cook for Fourty Humans

How to Win Friends and Influence People

Huckleberry Finn

Hyperion

I Am America, and So Can You

I Am the Messenger

I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream

I Was Dr. Mengele’s Assistant

In Cold Blood

In Search of Our Mother's Gardens

Independent People

Infinite Jest

Into Thin Air

Into the Wild

Introduction to Linear Algebra

Invisible Monsters

Ishmael

Jacques Le Fataliste

Jane Eyre

Jaunt

Job: a Comedy of Justice

John Dies at the End

John Grisham

Johnathan Livingston Seagull

Johnny Got His Gun

Jon Ronson

Journal of a Novel

Jurassic Park

Justine

L'histoire D'o

Lamb

Last Exit to Brooklyn

Les Miserables

Lies My Teacher Told Me

Life of Pi

Limits and Renewals

Little House in the Big Woods

Lockwood & Co.

Lolita

Looking for Trouble

Lord Foul’s Bane

Lord of the Flies

Lyddie

Malazan Book of the Fallen

Maldoror

Manufacturing Consent: the Political Economy of the Mass Media

Man’s Search for Meaning

Mark Twain’s Autobiography

Maus

Meditations

Megamorphs (series)

Mein Kampf

Memnooch the Devil

Metro 2033

Michael Crichton

Middlesex

Mindhunter

Misery

Mistborn

Moby Dick

Mrs. Dalloway

My Side of the Mountain

My Sweet Audrina

Nacht über Der Prärie (night over the Prairie)

Naked Lunch

Name of the Wind

Neuromancer

Never Let Me Go

Neverwhere

New York

Night

Night Shift

Norwegian Wood

Notes from Underground

Nothing to Envy: Real Lives in North Korea

Of Mice and Men

Of Nightingales That Weep

Ohio

Old Mans War

Old Mother West Wind

On Heroes and Tombs

On Laughter and Forgetting

On the Road

One Flew over the Cuckoos Nest

One Hundred Years of Solitude

One of Us

Painted Bird

Patrick Rothfuss

Perfume: the Story of a Murderer

Persepolis

Pet Sematary

Peter Pan

Pillars of the Earth

Poisonwood Bible

Pride and Predjudice

Ready Player One

Rebecca

Red Mars

Red Night (series)

Red Shirts

Red Storm Rising

Redwall

Replay

Requiem for a Dream

Revenge

Riftwar Saga

Ringworld

Roald Dahl

Rolls of Thunder, Hear My Cry

Round Ireland with a Fridge

Running with Scissors

Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes

Sapiens, a Brief History of Humankind

Scary Stories to Read in the Dark

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark

Schindler’s List

Sein Und Zeit

Shades of Grey

Sharp Objects

Shattered Dreams

Sherlock Holmes

Sho-gun

Siddhartha

Sisypho

Skin and Other Stories

Slaughterhouse Five

Smoke & Mirrors

Snow Crash

Soldier Son

Sometimes a Great Notion

Sphere

Starship Troopers

Stiff, the Curious Lives of Human Cadavers

Storied Life of A.j. Fikry

Stormlight Archives

Story of the Eye

Stranger in a Strange Land

Surely, You're Joking

Survivor Type (short Story)

Suttree

Swan Song

Tale of Two Cities

Tales of the South Pacific

The Alchemist

The Altered Carbon Trilogy

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay

The Art of Deception

The Art of Fielding

The Art of War

The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation

The Autobiography of Henry Viii

The Autobiography of Malcolm X

The Beach

The Bell Jar

The Bible

The Bloody Chamber

The Book Thief

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

The Brothers Karamazov

The Call of Cthulu and Other Weird Stories

The Cask of Amontillado (short Story)

The Catcher in the Rye

The Chronicles of Narnia

The Clown

The Color out of Space

The Communist Manifesto

The Complete Fiction of H.p. Lovecraft

The Count of Monte Cristo

The Curious Case of the Dog in the Night Time

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime

The Dagger and the Coin

The Damage Done

The Dark Tower

The Declaration of Independence, the Us Constitution, and the Bill of Rights

The Devil in the White City

The Dharma Bums

The Diamond Age

The Dice Man

The Discworld Series

The Dresden Files

The Elegant Universe

The First Law Trilogy

The Forever War

The Foundation Trilogy

The Gentleman Bastard Sequence

The Geography of Nowhere

The Girl Next Door

The Girl on the Milk Carton

The Giver

The Giving Tree

The God of Small Things

The Grapes of Wrath

The Great Gatsby

The Great Gilly Hopkins

The Hagakure

The Half a World Trilogy

The Handmaid’s Tale

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

The Hiding Place

The History of Love

The Hobbit

The Hot Zone

The Hunchback of Notre Dame

The Hyperion Cantos

The Jaunt

The Jungle

The Key to Midnight

The Killing Star

The Kingkiller Chronicles

The Kite Runner

The Last Question (short Story)

The Lies of Lock Lamora

The Little Prince

The Long Walk

The Lord of the Rings

The Lottery (short Story)

The Lovely Bones

The Magicians

The Magus

The Martian

The Master and Margarita

The Metamorphosis of Prime Intellect

The Monster at the End of This Book

The Moon is a Harsh Mistress

The Music of Eric Zahn (short Story)

The Name of the Wind & the Wise Man's Fear

The Necronomicon

The New Age of Adventure: Ten Years of Great Writing

The Night Circus

The Nightmare Box

The Odyssey

The Omnivore's Dilemma

The Orphan Master’s Son

The Outsiders

The Painted Bird

The Perks of Being a Wallflower

The Phantom Tollbooth

The Picture of Dorian Gray

The Pit and the Pendulum

The Plague

The Prince

The Prince of Tides

The Princess Bride

The Prophet

The Queen’s Gambit

The Rape of Nanking

The Red Dwarf

The Republic

The Rifter Saga

The Road

The Satanic Verses

The Screwtape Letters

The Secret History

The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel

The Selfish Gene

The Shining

The Shrine of Jeffrey Dahmer

The Silmarillion

The Sirens of Titan

The Six Wives of Henry the 8th

The Solitude of Prime Numbers

The Speaker of the Dead

The Stars My Destination

The Stormlight Archive

The Story of My Tits

The Stranger

The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck

The Suspicions of Mr. Witcher

The Tao of Pooh

The Things They Carried

The Time Machine

The Time Traveller’s Wife

The Tin Drum

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

The Unthinkable Thoughts of Jacob Green

The Wasp Factory

The Wind Up Bird Chronicle

The Wind-up Bird Chronicle

The World According to Garp

The Yellow Wallpaper

Their Eyes Were Watching God

Things Fall Apart

Thirsty

This Blinding Absence of Light

Tiger!

Time Enough for Love

To Kill a Mockingbird

To Say Nothing of the Dog

Toni Morrison

Too Many Magicians

Traumnovelle

Tuesdays with Morrie

Tuf Voyaging

Undeniable

Under Plum Lake

Universe in a Nutshell

Unwind

Uzumaki

Various

Village Life in Late Tsarist Russia

Walden

War & Peace

War and Peace

Warriors: Bluestar’s Prophecy

Watchers

Water for Elephants

Watership Down

We Have Always Lived in the Castle

We Need to Talk About Kevin

Wheel of Time

When Rabbit Howls

Where the Red Fern Grows

Where the Sidewalk Ends

Why I Am Not a Christian

Why People Believe Weird Things

Wizards First Rule

Wool

World War Z

Worm

Wuthering Heights

You Can Choose to Be Happy

Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

#some of these are fucked up #but #all the better

157 notes · View notes

ladyofasoiaf · 4 years

Text

Jon ‘One Eye’ & Sansa Stark

In this meta I will try to point out the clues of Jon’s death- warging into his direwolf- coming back to life process.

Our main hint is going to be : ONE EYE motifs...

And interestingly this hint is always close to Sansa...

[Most of these clues etc have been already examined by many people but I will try to put them all in order to show the pattern..]

A GAME OF THRONES:

Waymar Royce

Waymar Royce appearence and story are very similar with Jon’s.

They look similar:

Ser Waymar Royce was the youngest son of an ancient house with too many heirs. He was a handsome youth of eighteen, grey-eyed and graceful and slender as a knife.

[AGOT; Prologue]

Jon’s eyes were a grey so dark they seemed almost black, but there was little they did not see. He was of an age with Robb, but they did not look alike. Jon was slender where Robb was muscular, dark where Robb was fair, graceful and quick where his half brother was strong and fast.

[AGOT; Bran I]

They are both young men of Night’s Watch but they were not very welcomed by their other black brothers:

His cloak was his crowning glory; sable, thick and black and soft as sin. “Bet he killed them all himself, he did,” Gared told the barracks over wine, “twisted their little heads off, our mighty warrior.” They had all shared the laugh. It is hard to take orders from a man you laughed at in your cups, Will reflected as he sat shivering atop his garron. Gared must have felt the same.

[AGOT; Prologue]

“Yes, life,” Noye said. “A long life or a short one, it’s up to you, Snow. The road you’re walking, one of your brothers will slit your throat for you one night.” “They’re not my brothers,” Jon snapped. “They hate me because I’m better than they are.” “No. They hate you because you act like you’re better than they are. They look at you and see a castle-bred bastard who thinks he’s a lordling.” The armorer leaned close. “You’re no lordling. Remember that. You’re a Snow, not a Stark. You’re a bastard and a bully.”

[AGOT; Jon III]

Others are a very important part of Jon’s arc and story and Waymar meets with them in Prologue:

Ser Waymar met him bravely. “Dance with me then.” He lifted his sword high over his head, defiant. His hands trembled from the weight of it, or perhaps from the cold. Yet in that moment, Will thought, he was a boy no longer, but a man of the Night’s Watch.

[AGOT; Prologue]

This phrase also reminds us Jon:

It is more than impatience, Jon realized. They are afraid. Warriors, spearwives, raiders, they are frightened of those woods, of shadows moving through the trees. They want to put the Wall between them before the night descends.

A snowflake danced upon the air. Then another. Dance with me, Jon Snow, he thought. You’ll dance with me anon.

[ADWD; Jon XII]

In Prologue, Waymar gets killed by Others:

Royce’s body lay facedown in the snow, one arm out-flung. The thick sable cloak had been slashed in a dozen places. Lying dead like that, you saw how young he was. A boy.

[AGOT; Prologue]

And Jon dies in ADWD:

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger’s hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. “Ghost,” he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold …

[ADWD; Jon XIII]

But Waymar comes back to life as a wight with ‘ONE EYE’:

Will rose. Ser Waymar Royce stood over him. His fine clothes were a tatter, his face a ruin. A shard from his sword transfixed the blind white pupil of his left eye. The right eye was open. The pupil burned blue. It saw.

[AGOT; Prologue]

So: A young man of Night’s Watch who looks like Jon dies and comes back to life with ONE EYE.

Let’s continue with the second book...

A CLASH OF KINGS:

Orell

Orell is Wildling who is also a skinchanger. His animal is an EAGLE.

Jon kills Orell in ACOK; Jon VI:

Jon nodded toward the one by the fire. It felt queer, picking a man to kill.

[...]

Jon’s man leapt to his feet, thrusting at his face with a burning brand. He could feel the heat of the flames as he flinched back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sleeper stirring, and knew he must finish his man quick. When the brand swung again, he bulled into it, swinging the bastard sword with both hands. The Valyrian steel sheared through leather, fur, wool, and flesh, but when the wildling fell he twisted, ripping the sword from Jon’s grasp.

[...]

“You ought to burn them you killed,” said Ygritte.

[ACOK; Jon VI]

But due to the magic of skinchanging, a portion of Orell’s consciousness remained in the eagle, which developed a fierce hatred for Jon.

And in ACOK; Jon VII he dreams of an eagle attacking him and people talk about vargs and skinchangers:

Then a sudden gust of cold made his fur stand up, and the air thrilled to the sound of wings. As he lifted his eyes to the ice-white mountain heights above, a shadow plummeted out of the sky. A shrill scream split the air. He glimpsed blue-grey pinions spread wide, shutting out the sun… “Ghost!” Jon shouted, sitting up. He could still feel the talons, the pain. “Ghost, to me!” Ebben appeared, grabbed him, shook him. “Quiet! You mean to bring the wildlings down on us? What’s wrong with you, boy?” “A dream,” said Jon feebly. “I was Ghost, I was on the edge of the mountain looking down on a frozen river, and something attacked me. A bird… an eagle, I think…”

[...]

“Skinchanger?” said Ebben grimly, looking at the Halfhand. Does he mean the eagle? Jon wondered. Or me? Skinchangers and wargs belonged in Old Nan’s stories, not in the world he had lived in all his life. Yet here, in this strange bleak wilderness of rock and ice, it was not hard to believe.

[ACOK; Jon VII]

So: There is a skinchanger who dies because of Jon but a part of him keeps living in his animal: eagle.

The interesting thing is that between these two Jon chapters (Orell and eagle dream) comes a very important Sansa chapter which has many parallels with Jon VI chapter...

An example of parallels:

[…] ‘All I ask is a flower,’ Bael answered, ‘the fairest flower that blooms in the gardens o’ Winterfell.”

“Now as it happened the winter roses had only then come into bloom, and no flower is so rare nor precious…

[ACOK; Jon VI]

Sansa lowered her head. “The blood frightened me.”

“The blood is the seal of your womanhood. Lady Catelyn might have prepared you. You’ve had your first flowering, no more.”

Sansa had never felt less flowery. “My lady mother told me, but I… I thought it would be different.”

[ACOK; Sansa IV]

For more, please check: Jonsa Book Hints: B5

In this chapter Sansa says she wants to be loved and Cersei warns her that “love kills too...” Next chapter is Jon with his eagle dreams and warging abilities:

A half smile flickered across the queen’s face. “[…]Robert wanted to be loved. My brother Tyrion has the same disease. Do you want to be loved, Sansa?”

“Everyone wants to be loved.”

“I see flowering hasn’t made you any brighter,” said Cersei. “Sansa, permit me to share a bit of womanly wisdom with you on this very special day. Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same.”

[ACOK; Sansa IV]

Let’s move on to third book...

A STORM OF SWORDS:

Orell and Wargs

In ASOS; Jon I, we learn the name of the Wildling that Jon has killed in ACOK; Jon VI:

“He slew Qhorin Halfhand,” said Longspear Ryk. “Him and that wolf o’ his.”

“And did for Orell too,” said Rattleshirt.

“The lad’s a warg, or close enough,” put in Ragwyle, the big spearwife. “His wolf took a piece o’ Halfhand’s leg.”

[...]

“What’s this?” he said. “A crow?”

“The black bastard what gutted Orell,” said Rattleshirt, “and a bloody warg as well.”

“You were to kill them all.”

“This one come over,” explained Ygritte. “He slew Qhorin Halfhand with his own hand.”

[ASOS; Jon I]

This Jon chapter comes after ASOS; Sansa I.

And these chapters have many parallels such as:

Sansa knelt at the feet of her future queen. “You do me great honor, Your Grace.” “Won’t you call me Margaery? Please, rise. Loras, help the Lady Sansa to her feet. Might I call you Sansa?”

[ASOS; Sansa I]

“I would be pleased to eat, Your Grace. And thank you.”

“Your Grace?” The king smiled. “That’s not a style one often hears from the lips of the free folk. I’m Mance to most, The Mance to some. Will you take a horn of mead?”

[ASOS; Jon I]

For more, please check: Jonsa Book Hints: C1

We also learn about Sansa’s new betrothed: Willas Tyrell..

Willas has a bad leg and so does Jon, in ASOS:

“Willas has a bad leg but a good heart,” said Margaery. “He used to read to me when I was a little girl, and draw me pictures of the stars. You will love him as much as we do, Sansa.”

[ASOS; Sansa I]

If the mare had gone down, he would have been doomed. “A lucky thing my leg got in the way,” he muttered.

He rested for a while to let the horse graze. She did not wander far. That was good. Hobbled with a bad leg, he could never have caught her.

[ASOS; Jon V]

Let’s keep reading...

In ASOS; Jon II chapter Jon’s eagle dream from ACOK comes true and Orell’s eagle attacks Jon’s eye:

He could still hear wings, though the eagle was not in sight. Half his world was black. “My eye,” he said in sudden panic, raising a hand to his face.

“It’s only blood, Jon Snow. He missed the eye, just ripped your skin up some.”

[…]

Can a bird hate? Jon had slain the wilding Orell, but some part of the man remained within the eagle. The golden eyes looked out on him with cold malevolence.

[…]

I will need to get this tended, he thought, but not just now. Let the King-beyond-the-Wall see what his eagle did to me.

[…]

The look Mance gave Jon was grim and cold. “What happened to your face?”

Ygritte said, “Orell tried to take his eye out.”

“It was him I asked. Has he lost his tongue? Perhaps he should, to spare us further lies.”

Styr the Magnar drew a long knife. “The boy might see more clear with one eye, instead of two.”

“Would you like to keep your eye, Jon?” asked the King-beyond-the-Wall. “If so, tell me how many they were. And try and speak the truth this time, Bastard of Winterfell.”

Jon’s throat was dry. “My lord… what…”

[ASOS; Jon II]

Jon almosts loses his ‘one eye’ and becomes Jon ‘One Eye’ Snow because of this attack..

After this eagle attack Jon chapter comes ASOS; Sansa II

And these chapters have many parallels such as:

Jon wheeled and followed Tormund back toward the head of the column, his new cloak hanging heavy from his shoulders. It was made of unwashed sheepskins, worn fleece side in, as the wildlings suggested.

[…]

“I wear the cloak you gave me, Your Grace.”

[ASOS; Jon II]

A new gown?” she said, as wary as she was astonished.

“More lovely than any you have worn, my lady,” the old woman promised. She measured Sansa’s hips with a length of knotted string. “All silk and Myrish lace, with satin linings. You will be very beautiful. The queen herself has commanded it.”

“Which queen?” Margaery was not yet Joff’s queen, but she had been Renly’s. Or did she mean the Queen of Thorns? Or…“The Queen Regent, to be sure.”

[ASOS; Sansa II]

For more, please check: Jonsa Book Hints: C2

And after the chapter of an eagle attacks Jon’s eye we learn in next chapter that Sansa’s betrothed Willas Tyrell flies EAGLES:

“Willas has the best birds in the Seven Kingdoms,” Margaery said when the two of them were briefly alone. “He flies an eagle sometimes. You will see, Sansa.”

[ASOS; Sansa II]

Why is Almost One Eye Jon and Sansa Stark being near to each other important?

Because the first Sansa Stark in Stark family tree was married with her half-uncle Jonnel ‘One Eye’ Stark:

So another Sansa being close to another Stark family member who almost had lost his one eye sounds interesting.

Well, Jon didn’t lose his eye but his face got scarred:

He had almost forgotten about his face. “A skinchanger tried to rip out my eye.”

Noye frowned. “Scarred or smooth, it’s a face I thought I’d seen the last of. We heard you’d gone over to Mance Rayder.”

[ASOS; Jon VI]

Who else has a scarred face? Sansa’s husband- Tyrion Lannister:

“I like your scar.” She traced it with her finger. “It makes you look very fierce and strong.”

He laughed. “Very ugly, you mean.”

“M’lord will never be ugly in my eyes.” She kissed the scab that covered the ragged stub of his nose.

[ASOS; Tyrion II]

Varamyr

What happens to this eagle later?

Skinchanger, Varamyr Sixskins, takes control of Orell’s eagle. Varamyr uses the eagle to scout Castle Black and spots Stannis Baratheon’s arrival at the Wall.

The eagle bursts into flames during the attack on Castle Black with Melisandre claiming she was responsible.

The skinchanger was grey-faced, round-shouldered, and bald, a mouse of a man with a wolfling’s eyes. “Once a horse is broken to the saddle, any man can mount him,” he said in a soft voice. “Once a beast’s been joined to a man, any skinchanger can slip inside and ride him. Orell was withering inside his feathers, so I took the eagle for my own. But the joining works both ways, warg. Orell lives inside me now, whispering how much he hates you. And I can soar above the Wall, and see with eagle eyes.”

[...]

“Banners,” he heard Varamyr murmur, “I see golden banners, oh . . .” A mammoth lumbered by, trumpeting, a half-dozen bowmen in the wooden tower on its back. “The king . . . no . . .”

Then the skinchanger threw back his head and screamed.The sound was shocking, ear-piercing, thick with agony. Varamyr fell, writhing, and the ’cat was screaming too.... and high, high in the eastern sky, against the wall of cloud, Jon saw the eagle burning. For a heartbeat it flamed brighter than a star, wreathed in red and gold and orange, its wings beating wildly at the air as if it could fly from the pain. Higher it flew, and higher, and higher still.

[ASOS; Jon X]

Melisandre burns the eagle. Who else got burned in the books?

Jon Snow in AGOT:

He had burned himself more badly than he knew throwing the flaming drapes, and his right hand was swathed in silk halfway to the elbow. At the time he’d felt nothing; the agony had come after.

[AGOT; Jon VIII]

And Jon burns himself in AGOT; Jon VII:

Jon tried to shout, but his voice was gone. Staggering to his feet, he kicked the arm away and snatched the lamp from the Old Bear’s fingers. The flame flickered and almost died. “Burn!” the raven cawed. “Burn, burn, burn!”

Spinning, Jon saw the drapes he’d ripped from the window. He flung the lamp into the puddled cloth with both hands. Metal crunched, glass shattered, oil spewed, and the hangings went up in a great whoosh of flame. The heat of it on his face was sweeter than any kiss Jon had ever known. “Ghost!” he shouted.

The direwolf wrenched free and came to him as the wight struggled to rise, dark snakes spilling from the great wound in its belly. Jon plunged his hand into the flames, grabbed a fistful of the burning drapes, and whipped them at the dead man. Let it burn, he prayed as the cloth smothered the corpse, gods, please, please, let it burn.

[AGOT; Jon VII]

This Jon chapter comes after AGOT; Sansa IV:

And these two chapters have many parallels such as:

So she went to the queen instead, and poured out her heart, and Cersei had listened and thanked her sweetly … only then Ser Arys had escorted her to the high room in Maegor’s Holdfast and posted guards, and a few hours later, the fighting had begun outside.

[AGOT; Sansa IV]

They took his knife and his sword and told him he was not to leave his cell until the high officers met to decide what was to be done with him. And then they placed a guard outside his door to make certain he obeyed. His friends were not allowed to see him, but the Old Bear did relent and permit him Ghost, so he was not utterly alone.

[AGOT; Jon VII]

Yet somehow it seemed colder with Jeyne gone, even after she’d built a fire. She pulled a chair close to the hearth, took down one of her favorite books, and lost herself in the stories of Florian and Jonquil, of Lady Shella and the Rainbow Knight, of valiant Prince Aemon and his doomed love for his brother’s queen.

[AGOT; Sansa IV]

Yet he was trembling, violently. When had it gotten so cold?

[…] 

Metal crunched, glass shattered, oil spewed, and the hangings went up in a great whoosh of flame. The heat of it on his face was sweeter than any kiss Jon had ever known. “Ghost!” he shouted.

[AGOT; Jon VII]

For more, please check: Jonsa Book Hints: A10

What happens to skinchanger Orell and warg Varamyr after the eagle burst into flames?

The incident greatly affects Varamyr and supposedly kills the remnants of Orell inside the eagle.

After the defeat of the wildlings at the battle beneath the Wall, Varamyr has lost all his possessions in his madness from experiencing the eagle’s death; he has also lost control of his snow bear and shadowcat, but his wolves remain.

[Orell dying completely and Varamyr gets mad also reminds me another resurrected character Beric Dondarrion who also has ONE EYE and him dying for good to bring Catelyn Stark back to life... And like Varamyr, Lady Stoneheart loses her mind too... ]

Let’s move on to fourth book...

A FEAST FOR CROWS:

Jon is not even in this book?

But Sansa is and we learn few things about her crushes:

Waymar Royce:

She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl.

[AFFC; Alayne I]

Grrm reminds us Waymar Royce aka the biggest foreshadowing for Jon in AFFC book via Sansa’s chapter...

Loras Tyrell:

Loras was another crush of Sansa and we learn that he got burned really bad in AFFC.

Like the eagle and Jon.

“Tell me,” said Margaery. “I command it.” Command it? Cersei paused a moment, then decided she would let that pass. “The defenders fell back to an inner keep once the curtain wall was taken. Loras led the attack there as well. He was doused with boiling oil.” Lady Alla turned white as chalk, and ran from the room. “The maesters are doing all they can, Lord Waters assures me, but I fear your brother is too badly burned.”

[AFFC; Cersei VIII]

More about Loras // Jon, please check: Jonsa Book Hints: A8

Let’s keep reading the fifth book...

A DANCE WITH DRAGONS:

In ADWD; Prologue Varamyr encounters with Others (just like AGOT; Prologue) and Varamyr’s body dies, but his mind lives on in his wolf One Eye.

And Varamyr also thinks about Jon and his direwolf..

So we have dead warg who kept living in his animal: A WOLF whose name is ONE EYE.

Varamyr could feel the snowflakes melting on his brow. This is not so bad as burning. Let me sleep and never wake, let me begin my second life. His wolves were close now. He could feel them. He would leave this feeble flesh behind, become one with them, hunting the night and howling at the moon. The warg would become a true wolf. Which, though?

[...]

“They say you forget,” Haggon had told him, a few weeks before his own death. “When the man’s flesh dies, his spirit lives on inside the beast, but every day his memory fades, and the beast becomes a little less a warg, a little more a wolf, until nothing of the man is left and only the beast remains.”

Varamyr knew the truth of that. When he claimed the eagle that had been Orell’s, he could feel the other skinchanger raging at his presence. Orell had been slain by the turncloak crow Jon Snow, and his hate for his killer had been so strong that Varamyr found himself hating the beastling boy as well. He had known what Snow was the moment he saw that great white direwolf stalking silent at his side. One skinchanger can always sense another. Mance should have let me take the direwolf. There would be a second life worthy of a king. He could have done it, he did not doubt. The gift was strong in Snow, but the youth was untaught, still fighting his nature when he should have gloried in it.

[...]

A sleeping direwolf raised his head to snarl at empty air. Before their hearts could beat again he had passed on, searching for his own, for One Eye, Sly, and Stalker, for his pack. His wolves would save him, he told himself. That was his last thought as a man. True death came suddenly; he felt a shock of cold, as if he had been plunged into the icy waters of a frozen lake. Then he found himself rushing over moonlit snows with his packmates close behind him. Half the world was dark. One Eye, he knew. He bayed, and Sly and Stalker gave echo. When they reached the crest the wolves paused.

[...]

The things below moved, but did not live. One by one, they raised their heads toward the three wolves on the hill. The last to look was the thing that had been Thistle. She wore wool and fur and leather, and over that she wore a coat of hoarfrost that crackled when she moved and glistened in the moonlight. Pale pink icicles hung from her fingertips, ten long knives of frozen blood. And in the pits where her eyes had been, a pale blue light was flickering, lending her coarse features an eerie beauty they had never known in life. She sees me.

[ADWD; Prologue]

Jon dies in his last ADWD chapter and his last word was his direwolf’s name: GHOST...

[ADWD; Jon XIII]

So we have a full circle:

It started with Agot; Prologue

and ended with ADWD; Jon XIII

Let’s not forget that Jon’s death was foreshadowed in ASOS; Sansa VI chapter.

Lord Petyr dismissed him with a wave, and returned to the pomegranate again as Oswell shuffled down the steps. “Tell me, Alayne—which is more dangerous, the dagger brandished by an enemy, or the hidden one pressed to your back by someone you never even see?”

“The hidden dagger.”

“There’s a clever girl.” He smiled, his thin lips bright red from the pomegranate seeds.

[ASOS; Sansa VI]

Next chapter was Jon:

Fore more about Jon’s death and Sansa; please check:

Jonsa Book Hints: C12 & E7

“Do not be so certain.” The ruby at Melisandre’s throat gleamed red. “It is not the foes who curse you to your face that you must fear, but those who smile when you are looking and sharpen their knives when you turn your back. You would do well to keep your wolf close beside you. Ice, I see, and daggers in the dark. Blood frozen red and hard, and naked steel. It was very cold.”

“It is always cold on the Wall.”

“You think so?”

“I know so, my lady.”

“Then you know nothing, Jon Snow,” she whispered.

[ADWD; Jon I]

In conclusion:

Jon’s death, him warging into his direwolf during his death and him coming back to life arc has been foreshadowed since AGOT; Prologue and its most obvious hints were given in ADWD; Prologue by echoing AGOT; Prologue.

The ‘ONE EYE’ motif seems like a key hint for his resurrection.

And Sansa is always close to this motif or she has some connections with this motif via other characters or her chapters.

A Sansa Stark being close to another ‘ONE EYE’ Stark is interesting because of the historical couple: Jonnel ‘One Eye’ & Sansa Stark in Stark family tree..

Even the hints of Jon’s death can be found in Sansa chapters.

All of these tell us that Sansa will be important in Jon’s past resurrection story.

Thanks for reading.

Some sources:

Waymar // Jon

Disfigurements

Jonnel / Sansa

Jon’s fate and losing an eye

#jonsa #jon snow #varamyr #orell #jonnel one eye stark #sansa stark #agot #acok #asos #affc #adwd #actually jonsa #jon snow x sansa stark #waymar royce #one eye #meta #mine

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nathanielhoover · 3 years

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dwfefced · 3 years

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Some skins you never want to wear

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jonsa-week · 4 years

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JONSA WEEK 2019 MASTER LIST

Once again, a HUGE thank you to all our participants this year. The turnout was fantastic and your contributions were amazing! We hope that you guys enjoyed the event as much as we did!

Please do reblog this list to keep the love going for our participants and their efforts. If your entry has been mistakenly missed off this list, please get in contact asap so we can rectify that!

Entries listed under the cut...

Day 1: Past ~ Present ~ Future

Future by @mimiofthemalfoys

Blossoming Feelings by @hawkeyescoffee

Almost by @jonsastan

Letters Burn Ice by @metalpalace

The Lady in the Walls by @sansaswolfbits

Future by @darkoverstar

Epilogue by @flibbertigiblet

Future by @fromtheboundlesssea

The Field Where I Died by @vivilove-jonsa

Oh, Be My Once In A Lifetime by @wildflower-daydreamer

Present and Future by @otp-that-was-promised

it was a stained glass variation of the truth by @missfaber

Past and Present by @sunbeamsandmoonrays

Party Like it’s 1999 by @periwinkle39

Nobody can Predict the Future by @acourtofhopeanddreams

The Smell of Pine, Woodsmoke and Freedom by Titania_Queen_of_the_Fairies

Star Trek au by @leannedirewolflover

Future by @sweetaprilbutterfly

i see happiness by @sailorshadzter

Past, Present, Future by @xoxobgirl

requiem by @myriddin

There is a light that never goes out by @that-plo-koon

Day 2: Quotes ~ Colours ~ Tropes

Quotes and Colours by @mimiofthemalfoys

I will die for you by @minitafan

Tropes by @jonsastan

Tropes by @hawkeyescoffee

I Will Fall Into Those Eyes and Drown by @standbehindhousestark

Quotes by @fromtheboundlesssea

Colours by @wildflower-daydreamer

Quotes by @sweetaprilbutterfly

With Joy by @alltheprettylittlewolves

Be My +1 by @vivilove-jonsa

Tropes: Sharing a bed by @sansaswolfbits

The Chosen One by @acourtofhopeanddreams

anchor up to me, love by @missfaber

Tropes: Arranged Marriage by @sansa-of-oldstones

Colors by @otp-that-was-promised

I haven’t seen you in forever by @flibbertigiblet

Lyanna’s Reds by @periwinkle39

Multi Color Wolf Pack by @sailorshadzter

A Dress of a Different Kind by @jade-masquerade

lodestar by @myriddin

Tropes: Highschool Sweethearts by @leannedirewolflover

Day 3: Winterfell ~ King’s Landing ~ Castle Black

Winterfell by @mimiofthemalfoys

Castle Black by @jonsastan

The Imprisonment of my Love for You by @hawkeyescoffee

Winterfell by @fromtheboundlesssea

The Blood of Winterfell by @wildflower-daydreamer

oh moon be still, she is aching by @missfaber

The Wishing Well by @sansaswolfbits

Winterfell, Kings Landing, Castle Black by @otp-that-was-promised

Fixer Upper by @acourtofhopeanddreams

Home isn’t home without you by @sailorshadzter

Winterfell by @sweetaprilbutterfly

I love you, I promise by @carbonitekisses

Winterfell by @leannedirewolflover

The Smell of Sin and Taste of Skin by Titania_Queen_of_the_Fairies

Winterfell by @standbehindhousestark

Day 4: Songs ~ Myths ~ Lies

Songs and Lies by @sansaravenclaw

All these stories can’t be lies by @lastofthegiants

Myths by @jonsastan

Hades and Persephone AU by @hawkeyescoffee

Songs by @mimiofthemalfoys

aeneas and dido by @trusteachother

Tangled Up In Blue by @periwinkle39

Lies by @fromtheboundlesssea

as we arrange these songs again by @missfaber

i’ll die if i don’t get me love jon snow by @sansaswolfbits

Sansa and Jon Snow (Orpheus and Eurydice) by @acourtofhopeanddreams

Myths by @sunbeamsandmoonrays

Lady Stark sings the blues by @flibbertigiblet

The truth is darling, I’ll lie to keep you safe by @sailorshadzter

Inevitable by @wildflower-daydreamer

Odin and Frigga by @leannedirewolflover

Cupid and Psyche by @sweetaprilbutterfly

Die for you by @standbehindhousestark

Day 5: Dragons ~ Wolves ~ Birds

By Tooth or By Claw by @sonderlust45

sometimes all you need is a shoulder to lean on by @sailorshadzter

Surprise them when they least expect it by @mimiofthemalfoys

Two to Devour // One to be Queen by @sansaswolfbits

Wolves by @darkoverstar

Lady and Ghost by @periwinkle39

Wolf’s Teeth by @missfaber

Birds by @fromtheboundlesssea

Wolves and Birds by @wildflower-daydreamer

A new wolf for Sansa by @acourtofhopeanddreams

The wolves will come again by @sweetaprilbutterfly

love will never die by @otp-that-was-promised

Dragons and Wolves by @leannedirewolflover

Wolves by @jonsastan

The Smell of Fire, the Taste of Blood and the Keen Sting of Betrayal by Titania_Queen_of_the_Fairies

A Bite Most Sweetly by @hawkeyescoffee

Day 6: Modern ~ Historical ~ Remix

His Girl Friday by @zarahjoyce

Modern au by @sansaravenclaw

Jonsa AU by @here-to-riot

Skins generation 3 remix by @mimiofthemalfoys

gomez and morticia addams remix by @trusteachother

The Mummy remix by @jonsastan

Modern au by @sunbeamsandmoonrays

Modern au by @fromtheboundlesssea

The Lucky One by @sansaswolfbits

Wolf Strike by @zarahjoyce

Top Gun remix by @darkoverstar

Modern au by @sweetaprilbutterfly

Snow Mountain by @vivilove-jonsa

Finally Alive by @acourtofhopeanddreams

Modern au by @xoxobgirl

Tony Stark and Pepper Pots remix by @leannedirewolflover

Historical au by @sailorshadzter

The Notebook au by @otp-that-was-promised

Allison and Luther Hargreeves remix by @leannedirewolflover

Romancing the Stone remix by @nessataleweaver

call my name, held the sound by @missfaber

The Oh So Well Kept Secret by @hawkeyescoffee

Day 7: Bastards ~ Royalty ~ Free Choice

No one will ever marry me for love by @mimiofthemalfoys

Free Choice entry by @trustseachother

The Wishing Well - part x by @sansaswolfbits

Royalty by @periwinkle39

Royalty by @fromtheboundlesssea

Fate/Zero (Anime) au by @angmarwitch

Batman and Catwoman by @xoxobgirl

Bastards by @leannedirewolflover

all’s well that ends well to end up with you by @sailorshadzter

Pride andPrejudice style au by @jonsastan

Modern Royalty au by @sweetaprilbutterfly

Barstards by @otp-that-was-promised

The Smell of Home, the Sweet Sound of Victory by Titania_Queen_of_the_Fairies

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsaweek #jonsa-week #jonsa week #master list #jonsa week master list #masterlist #jonsa week 2019 #THANK YOU!

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megsironthrone · 4 years

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Smuggled Away

Based on this request: Hi! The request about a Bratheon!reader got me thinking, what if there's a similar situation where the reader's king robert's daughter or a stark or something like that and the reader ends up getting smuggled away when jamie leaves cersei in kings landing and ends up reuniting with jon snow at some point and she kinda ends up kindling a spark with jon snow and interrupts the whole jon Daenerys thing? i'm not sure if this request makes much sense or if it would be good or not > . <

Here you go, lovely! I changed it just a little and ended up making her a Lannister (mostly so I wouldn’t get this request and the Robb one confused while I was writing XD.) *Familiar characters are not mine!

Warnings: SLIGHT (POSSIBLE) SPOILERS FOR SEASON 8. FLUFF!!!!!!!!

Pairings/Characters: Jon Snow x fem!Lannister reader, Jaime Lannister, Sansa Stark, Daenerys Targaryen. Brief mentions of Tyrion Lannister as well.

You were hiding and listening when your aunt, Cersei told Jaime she had no intention of letting her army fight the Army of the Dead. You had always been disgusted with her, but now you were frightened. She cared more about the throne than the realm she was supposed to be protecting. And when she threatened to kill your Uncle Jaime, you became frightened for your life. If she would kill him, what was to stop her from killing you, the daughter of her most hated sibling?

"Uncle Jaime!" you cried, seeing him heading for his horse. He stopped and faced you with wide eyes. "What is it?" Your eyes filled with tears. "Don't leave me here. Please. I-She might…I can't stay here." He looked at you with sympathy. "I can't take you, Y/N. Cersei would never let you leave the city. Not when she could use you as leverage."

"Please, Uncle Jaime. My father hardly knows me. He kept his distance if only to protect me. She will kill me. Please." Jaime glanced around to make sure no one was around before he threw a cloak over your shoulders. "Keep the hood up and your head down. I'm no smuggler, but I will do my best." You tied the cloak and put the hood up as he hoisted you up onto his horse. You knew you were riding North, but you gave no thought to the fact that you and your former love would be reunited once more.

You stood behind Jaime with shaking knees. You kept your eyes on his back even though you wanted desperately to look at the faces of those people who would decide your fate. "Lady Brienne speaks highly of you, Ser Jaime. I say you should stay," Sansa said, making you breathe a sigh of relief. If they were willing to keep Jaime alive, maybe there was hope for you. After all, you hadn't done anything other than being a Lannister.

"Thank you, my lady. And, what of my niece?" At that, you finally looked up at Sansa and Daenerys. "And why should we allow your sister's daughter to remain? She could be a spy." You narrowed your eyes slightly. You did not like this woman. Not one bit. And you especially did not like the way she kept looking at Jon. Still, you knew you had to say something. Anything to convince her to let you stay.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace. But I am NOT Cersei's daughter. Tyrion Lannister is my father. My mother, his first wife, bore me in secret to protect me from Cersei and Tywin. It has only been the last few years that I have come to know my family. Would you punish a young woman for the sins of her family the way Robert Baratheon punished you for the sins of your father? Uncle Jaime smuggled me out of King's Landing to protect me. If you turn me away, then I shall return to my aunt's keeping as I have nowhere else to go. But then my blood will be on your hands."

The whole room went still and quiet as they watched with bated breath to see what Daenerys would say. You took that opportunity to glance at Jon for the first time since you'd arrived. Your own breath caught in your throat when you saw his eyes already on you. His lips were turned into a slight frown, but that was normal for him. And his eyes held a hint of the boy you used to know. The boy you had fallen in love with was now a young man. A handsome one too.

"I do not agree with allowing Lannisters into our midst. Lord Tyrion has proven himself loyal. The two of you have not. You have proven time and again that your loyalty is to Cersei." Daenerys said. She and Sansa exchanged glares before looking to Jon to keep the peace. Without taking his eyes off you, Jon replied, "I agree…with Sansa. We need every sword we can get in the fight." With that, he rose and left the room.

Daenerys looked heartbroken and more than a little angry. She got up and left the room in the opposite direction while Sansa came over to you. "Come. I'm certain you're freezing. Let's get you a bath and some dry clothes." You gave her a grateful smile as you followed her out. As you trailed behind her, Sansa spoke. "You know, of all the Lannisters I've met, you are by far my favorite. You aren't like your family."

"Perhaps because I was not raised by them, my lady." Sansa smiled and laughed softly. For a few seconds, she didn't speak. Then she said, "I believe you and Jon would be good together." You nearly tripped on the hem of your wet, dirty dress. "I-I…I don't know what you mean, my lady." Sansa giggled again, something that seemed out of place in her otherwise somber countenance.

"Everyone saw how Jon was looking at you in there. And I remember how close you were all those years ago. You loved Jon and I think you still do." You let out a sigh. "Of course I do. Even though I knew there was never any hope for us. The Imp's daughter and Ned Stark's bastard? As soon as my identity was discovered, I was shipped off to King's Landing to learn to be a proper lady and Jon was destined for the Wall. We were doomed before we even met."

"Now you sound like him," Sansa said with a sigh. She turned to look at you as you stopped outside one of the doors. "After you are cleaned up, you should talk to him." She opened the door and ushered you inside. As soon as you were settled, Sansa left and you enjoyed a warm bath. You let out a groan as the warmth began seeping into your sore muscles. You hadn't known how badly you needed to relax.

You heard the door open and sighed. You thought it was a handmaiden or someone that Sansa sent with a new dress, without opening your eyes, you said, "I can dress myself, thank you. Please just put the dress on the bed." For a moment, there was no response. Your brows furrowed and you were about to speak again when someone beat you to it.

"I think you have me mistaken for someone else." Your eyes flew open and you looked over at the door where Jon was still standing. He was a respectful distance away so he couldn't see anything, but you felt your skin heat up anyway. "J-Jon…the door." Jon's own face turned red. "I'll come back once you've finished." He turned to leave.

"Jon, I just meant you should close the door. The last thing I want is for someone I don't know to see me like this." Jon slowly closed the door and turned back to you. Silence came over the two of you again. You simply stared into each other's eyes from across the room. Then you spoke at the same time, saying each other's names. You giggled as you motioned for Jon to continue.

"I've missed you. At the Wall thoughts of you kept me up nights." You felt yourself flush again. You cleared your throat. "It seems you didn't miss me nearly as much as I missed you." At Jon's confused look, you went on, "Daenerys. I saw the way she looked at you. Like she's got you wrapped around her finger." Jon was by your side, kneeling next to the tub, in an instant.

"It was one time. And I never felt for her the depth of feeling I have always had for you." You looked into his dark eyes, which were still on your face despite how close he was. "Do you mean that?" His lips turned up slightly into a small smile. "I do. Y/N, no one could ever compare to you. I have already told Daenerys that nothing will come of our time together. She isn't you."

You beamed at him as tears pricked your eyes. At least there was something good coming from all the bad in this. You had Jon. "I should go. I have a war to plan for." You nodded. "I'd ask you to join me in the bath first, but I'm afraid this Northern air has the water already cold," you said with a shiver." Jon chuckled before he kissed your forehead.

"It wouldn't be proper anyway." You arched a brow. "Jon, you are kneeling next to the bath where I am sitting. Naked, I might add. I don't think propriety is the issue here." Jon's face flushed again and you couldn't help but laugh. When your laughter died down, you caught Jon looking at you again. You reached over and ran your fingers over the beard covering his jaw.

"I love you, Jon." He rested his forehead against yours. "And I love you." With a grin, you reached up, wrapped your arm around his neck, and pulled him into the tub with you. Jon's laughter joined your own just before he brought his lips to yours. Water splashed to the floor as Jon tried to get up, only to slip and splash again. The winter winds blew outside and you could hear the logs crackling in the hearth, but nothing kept you as warm, as comfortable, or as loved as having Jon there with you.

(a/n: I really hope you like it. I tried to make it so the reader could dislike Daenerys without making Dany really hateful, if that makes sense.)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @princessofthefandomrealm @ghostie-writes @smalltownbigheart @littlemisscaptainfandom @etherealpotter @line-viper @frozenhuntress67 @cd1242 @gruffle1 @gameofthronesfics @igotmadskills

Jon Snow Tags: @multi-fandom-imagines8

#game of thrones #jon snow #jon snow x reader #jon x reader

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dailyaudiobible · 3 years

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03/08/2021 DAB Transcript

Numbers 10:1-11:23, Mark 14:1-21, Psalms 51:1-19, Proverbs 10:31-32

Today is the 8th day of March welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it is great to be here with you today as we do what we do. We gather, come around the Global Campfire, we release, exhale all the cares of this life that we’re draggin’ around, and we just allow God's word to do what God's word does. It washes into our lives and informs us, directs us, guides us, assures us, corrects and comforts us. So, let's dive in. We are reading from the New International Version this week. Numbers chapter 10 verse 1 through 11 verse 23.

Commentary:

Okay. So, in the Old Testament, we need just a little bit of a catch-up because we've gone through the book of Leviticus and through this much of the book of Numbers and so we've been focusing on the giving of the law and the customs in the rituals and the holy days, just the entire tapestry of an emerging culture that is being made out of these former slaves. So, that's been tedious, and we've been in it for a little while. So, today it's…it's easy to miss that today we packed up camp and moved out. Like we’ve been camping out at Mount Sinai for a long time, and we moved out. So, let's remember. There was Abraham then there was Isaac, and there was Jacob. Jacob's name was changed to Israel. He had children. They were the children of Israel. They would grow up in each of those names will become a tribe of Israel. We remember one of those sons was named Joseph and he was trafficked into Egypt by his own family. Of course, he became second-in-command eventually and brought 70 of his household including his father from Canaan to Egypt to save their lives from the famine. They stayed in Egypt. Joseph died and they continued to stay in Egypt. In fact, they stayed in Egypt for 400 years. So, the people that are coming out of Egypt, they have never known any kind of identity other than slavery. That's all they really know to be. Even though God has miraculously with a powerful hand demonstrated what He's capable of to protect his people they still grow weary. And it's interesting because God when He frees them from Egypt doesn't take them straight into the promised land by the coastal route. He takes them into the wilderness because their identity has to change from slave to chosen one and they need to receive the law. They need to receive what will govern them as a people to remind them of this identity. This is accomplished now. God has told them to move out and go to the promised land. They have moved out, but we can't hardly get a few miles before the complaining begins. And that's what we read about today, the complaining, and it's so discouraging. I wouldn't presume to speak for God, but it has to be so discouraging for God who has set His people free with an intention to fulfill a promise to listen to what those people are saying. And it has to be so discouraging from Moses. In fact, it was discouraging enough for Moses to say, “this is too big of a burden, I didn't have all these people, they're not my kids. You’re asking me basically to be a father to them and carry them like they were my kids, and I can’t do it.” And the people start complaining, “you remember when we were in Egypt when we were slaves. We got free meat and cucumbers and melons leaks and garlic and onions. Remember that? It was all free. We were just slaves and it was wonderful.” After all that God has gone through, that we’ve borne witness to as we’re reading through these stories, that would be such a slap in the face. That would be so discouraging. And then the mirror comes up out of the Bible and we find we’re not looking into an ancient story anymore. We’re looking into our own eyes. We had been enslaved and we were brought into the wilderness and we hate the wilderness. We ate the wildernesses of our lives. We spend all of our energy trying to escape them. When the…the truth of the matter, at least as borne out in the stories in the Scriptures is that we should embrace the wilderness. It is shaping our identity and teaching us to be utterly dependent upon God, which…which is in itself complete freedom because we are dependent upon God. But we’re seen that God is taking care of his people. It was the wilderness that God chose as the backdrop. And if you think about the wildernesses of your life, you can think of very, very difficult times that you don't ever want to experience again but that is the time when we learn the most, the most deep bed rock things about our existence and who we are. And, so let's begin as we continue to travel with the children of Israel toward the promised land. As we go out further into the wilderness, let's remember the wilderness is not purposeless. This is where we learn the most valuable things in life and the most valuable thing we can learn is our utter dependence upon God. That changes our identity from trying to be a sovereign to trying to fully be a dependent.

Prayer:

Jesus, we invite You into that. In fact, we…we move toward the Psalms because they speak so clearly what our hearts need to cry, “have mercy oh God, according to Your unfailing love, according to Your great compassion blot out my transgressions wash away all my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sins. Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean. Wash me and I will be whiter than snow. Create in me a pure heart oh God and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from Your presence or take Your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of Your salvation and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me.” This is our cry from the wilderness or from times of great prosperity. Come Holy Spirit and renew us, even as we continue this journey through the…the season of lent, designed to help us focus, focus our dependence upon You and lament the things that we have allowed that would separate us from You. Create in us a clean heart. In Jesus’ name, we ask. Amen.

Song

White as Snow – Jon Foreman

Have mercy on me, oh God According to Your unfailing love According to Your great compassion Blot out my transgressions

Would You create in me a clean heart, oh, God? Restore in me the joy of Your salvation Would You create in me a clean heart, oh, God? Restore in me the joy of my salvation

The sacrifices of our God Are a broken and a contrite heart Against You and You alone Have I sinned? The sacrifices of our God Are a broken and a contrite heart Against You and You alone Have I sinned?

Would You create in me a clean heart, oh, God? Restore in me the joy of Your salvation Would You create in me a clean heart, oh, God? Restore in me the joy of my salvation

Wash me white as snow And I will be made whole Wash me white as snow And I will be made whole Wash me white as snow And I will be made whole Wash me white as snow

Would You create in me a clean heart, oh, God? Restore in me the joy of Your salvation Would You create in me a clean heart, oh, God? Restore in me the joy of Your salvation

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multi-fandom-imagines8 · 5 years

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Fate

Part 1

Summary: After freeing the slaves in Essos with your mother Daenerys, she sends you to claim the iron throne while she rules in Meereen. That was until you met Jon Snow.

Warnings: some GoT season 7 spoilers.

A/N: Y/n/n= your nickname.

Word Count: 2628.

“What am I doing?” You asked while sitting on the throne in Dragonstone.

“Are you asking me, your grace?” Missandei looked around her to see if you’re talking to someone else.

“Yes and no. Do you believe I made the right choice coming here?”.

“Yes, you’re the only one who can save the seven kingdoms. If you hadn’t agreed, then your mother would’ve had to and then all what you’ve done in Astapor, Yunkai and Meereen would be destroyed and the slavers would’ve come back” she tried to encourage you.

“I know that, but she’s the one who wanted the throne for so long and fought her whole life for it. I could’ve stayed in Meereen. I just don’t know why she wanted me to go instead of her”.

“I believe she wants you to make your own decision and be a ruler of your own”.

“Can I tell you a secret?”.

“Of course, your grace”.

“I never really wanted to rule. A simple life would’ve been enough. Now, I have too many responsibilities and duties to fulfill. Do you think I’ll make a good queen?”.

“You already are a good queen”.

“Thank you”.

—-

“What does your lord expect from me?” You asked a sorceress who goes by the name Melisandre that came to talk to you about the lord of light.

“Bosys bantis amāzis. Meri kīvio dārilaros ōz maghagon kostas” (The long night is coming. Only the prince who was promised can bring the dawn) she prophesied you in High Valyrian.

“The prince who was promised will bring the dawn. I’m afraid I’m not a prince” you replied.

“Your grace, forgive me but your translation is not quite accurate. That noun has no gender in High Valyrian. So the proper translation for that prophecy would be the prince or princess that was promised will bring the dawn” Missandei elaborated.

“Doesn’t really roll off the tongue, does it?” Tyrion remarked.

“No, but I like it better. Do you believe this prophecy refers to me?” You questioned.

“Prophecies are dangerous things. I believe you have a role to play, as does another. The king in the north, Jon Snow” she informed you.

“Jon Snow? Ned Stark’s bastard?”.

You didn’t like the sound of that. You thought you’d only have to get rid of one queen, Cersei. And now she tells you there’s another king in the north.

“You know him?”.

“I traveled with him to the wall when he joined the night’s watch”.

Varys asked her why she believes the prophecy singled him out and she told him about the Wildlings and how he protected them and united them with the northerners. Maybe he’s not so bad after all.

“He sounds like quite a man” you expressed.

“Summon Jon Snow. Let him tell stand before you and tell you the things that’ve happened to him. The things that he’s seen with his own eyes” she suggested.

Tyrion also advised you to summon him and try to make him an Ally. He also informed you that the Lannisters beheaded his father and that he trusted him.

You sent a raven inviting him to Dragonstone to bend the knee.

—-

“You stand in the presence of Y/n Fireborn of the house Targaryen. Rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Rightful queen of the Andals and the First Men. Protector of the seven kingdoms. The sister of dragons. The unburnt. The breaker of chains. Daughter of the Khaleesi of the great grass sea” Missandei introduced and he seemed surprised.

You were never one for titles and great introduction, but this time you needed to be strong in order to take back what’s rightfully yours.

“This is Jon Snow... He’s king in the north” the man next to him introduced.

He sounded like a simple man. You wanted to smile but managed to hide it.

“So, I assume my lord, you’re here to bend the knee”.

“I am not” he answered.

Rude. How dare he.

“No, well that is unfortunate. You’ve traveled all this way to break faith with house Targaryen” you were a bit upset.

“Break faith? Your grandfather burned my grandfather alive. He burned my uncle alive. He would’ve burned the seven kingdoms-“ you interrupted him.

“My grandfather was an evil man. On behalf of house Targaryen I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family and I ask you not to judge a granddaughter by the sins of her grandfather” you apologized.

“You’re right. You’re not guilty of your grandfather’s crimes and I’m not beholden to my ancestors vows” he boldly said.

“Then why are you here?” You questioned.

“Because I need your help and you need mine” he answered.

“Did you see three dragons flying overhead when you arrived?”.

“I did”.

“And did you see the Dothraki. All of whom have sworn to kill for me”.

“They’re hard to miss” being sarcastic now, is he?.

“But still I need your help?”.

“Your grace, everyone you know will die before Winter’s over if we don’t defeat the enemy to the north” another threat, not bloody likely.

“As far as I can see, you’re the enemy to the north”.

“I am not your enemy. The dead are the enemy” is he joking?.

“The dead? Is that another figure of speech?” You asked with a serious tone.

“The army of the dead is on the march”.

“The army of the dead?” Tyrion questioned.

“You don’t know me well my lord, but do you think I’m a liar or a madman?”.

“No, I don't think you’re either of those things” Tyrion seemed fond of this man.

He explained what he saw and told you about white walkers and that everyone should stick together to fight them instead of fighting each other.

You told him you’re here to take back the Iron throne and told them the things that happened to you and your mother that led you here, to this moment.

In return, the man who’s with Jon Snow told you why the people chose him to lead them. And what he’s seen. He also told you that he took a knife in the heart for his people and he gave his own-, but before he was able to continue, Jon shot him with a look that made him stop from talking. Tyrion tried to convince him to swear allegiance to you, but he refused saying that he doesn’t know you. He made a good point and you decided to let him stay. He was allowed to roam the castle, but wasn’t allowed to sail back north.

—-

“Amazing thing to see” he walked down the stairs outside Dragonstone, that had a beautiful sea-view.

“My mother named them after my uncles and father. Viserion, Rhaegal and Drogon. They’ll all gone now. I heard you lost two brothers” you told him and he nodded.

After another discussion about the throne and allegiance there was silence for a moment before you spoke again “I will allow you to mine the dragonglass and forge weapons from it. Any resources or men you need, I will provide for you”.

He looked shocked that you’d do something like that even though he didn’t bend the knee “thank you”.

The man was charming, it could be one of the reasons you allowed him to stay and keep his head.

As days passed, you’ve grown fond of him and he of you. Of course there was no time for things like that. You we’re fighting the Lannisters and he seemed to be in a completely different world.

After you returned from the battle, that you’ve won. You landed Drogon and Jon was standing there. He was afraid of him at the beginning m, but then he managed to touch him and pet him. That was something you’ve never seen before. Drogon didn’t like many people and yet he seemed to like Jon Snow.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”.

“Wasn’t the word I was thinking of, but yes, they are gorgeous beasts”.

“They’re not beasts to me. No matter how big they get, how terrifying to everyone else. They’re my brothers”.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how is that even possible?”.

“I’m called fireborn for a reason. I never met my father. He died before I was born. You see my mother had three dragon eggs and when she had a funeral for my father, she placed the dragon eggs beside him and entered the circle of fire, while she was pregnant with me. After the fire burned out, the dragon eggs hatched and I was born at the same time” you explained and he seemed fascinated with the story “when you first came here, Ser Davos said you took a knife in the heart for your people-“ before you could ask your question he interrupted.

“Ser Davos gets carried away” he gave you a smile.

“So it was a figure of speech?” You asked but he didn’t answer.

After Jon convinced you to fight with him, you needed a plan to convince Cersei to join you.

You discussed the best way possible to do that and Tyrion decided to go to King’s Landing to talk to his brother Jaime, since he’s the only one she’d listen to.

But you needed proof of their existence, so Ser Jorah decided to go north of the wall to capture a wight.

“The free folk will help us. They know the north better than anyone” Jon proposed.

“They won’t follow Ser Jorah” Ser Davos reminded.

“They won’t have to” Jon looked you in the eyes and you were a bit sad. He has grown on you.

“You can’t lead a raid beyond the wall. You’re not in the night’s watch anymore. You’re king in the north”.

“I’m the only one here who has fought them and the only one here who knows them”.

“I haven’t given you permission to leave” you wished he would stay.

“With respect, your grace, I don’t need your permission. I am a king” he reminded. Sassy! “And I came here knowing that you could have your men behead me or your dragons burn me alive. I put my trust in you, a stranger, because I knew it was the best chance for my people, for all our people. Now, I’m asking you to trust in a stranger, because it’s our best chance” he gave a speech and you were convinced and accepted.

You escorted him to the shore.

“If I don’t return, at least you won’t have to deal with the king in the north anymore” Jon said.

“I’ve grown used to him”.

“I wish you good fortune in the wars to come, your grace”.

“Return safely to me” you muttered under your breath.

—-

“You seem distant, your grace. Is there something bothering you?” Missandei noticed you were thinking while she braided your hair.

“What?” You didn’t catch that.

“Is there something wrong?”.

“Not at all”.

“May I speak freely?” She asked permission.

“Of course. Always!”.

“Does it have something to do with Jon Snow? I noticed ever since he was here, you acted differently” she remarked.

“I see” you chuckled.

“He’s in love with you” Tyrion entered the room.

“Jon Snow isn’t in love with me” you didn’t want to give yourself false hope.

“Oh, my mistake. I suppose he stares at you longingly, because he’s hopeful for a success military alliance”.

You gave Tyrion’s words time to sink in before speaking “even if what you say is correct. It wouldn’t work between us”.

Grey Worm barged into the room, carrying a letter. Apparently, Jon and the others are in trouble and need your help up in the north.

“I have to go!”.

“What is it?” Tyrion noticed the discomfort on your face.

“It’s Jon and the other. They need me”.

“You can’t. The most important person in the world can’t fly off to the most dangerous place in the world” he advised you against it.

“Who else can?”.

“No one”.

“I’m the only person who can help them and it’s a chance for an alliance between us” you rode Drogon and took off with the other two.

The were too many wights, but your dragons burned them and as soon as you landed, you extended your hand to Jon. As he was about to take it, a few others attacked him and he went to fight them. The rest on the people who were with Jon managed to get on Drogon.

Suddenly, you heard Viserion screaming. When you looked up, blood was coming from everywhere. He then fell to the ground and sank under water. It all happened so fast and you were still in shock. You just watched your brother die.

“Go! Go, now! Leave!” Jon shouted from afar. The night king was ready to use another spear and kill your other brothers. You waited for Jon and he tried to reach you, but two wights jumped on him, making the ice break and there was no sign of Jon. You had no other choice but to leave.

When you arrived at the wall, you went to the top and hoped that Jon made it out alive, somehow. They managed to capture a wight and the ships were ready. They were now waiting for you.

“It’s time to go, your grace” Jorah informed you.

“A bit longer” you felt guilty for leaving him alone to die. And just as you turned away and were ready to give up, you heard the sound of the horn and someone saying open the gates. You immediately turned around and saw him in a bad shape. The men got him on the ship and he was freezing. Ser Davos and some other helped take off his clothes and that’s when you saw the scars of a knife on his upper body. He was stabbed more than once. With all those scars and he still looked beautiful.

After he regained consciousness and was able to talk, you visited his chambers.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” were the first words to come out of his mouth. He almost died and he’s apologizing for what happened to Viserion. He’s a good man. “I wish I could take it back. I wish we’d never gone” he took your hand for a moment to comfort you, but you hesitated and took it back a moment after.

You tried to hold the tears back “I don’t. If we hadn’t gone, I wouldn’t have seen. You have to see to know. Now I know. The dragons are my brothers. I’ll never have real siblings. They are the only children my mother’ll ever have. And I’ll never have children. Do you understand?”.

“We’re going to destroy the night king and his army and we’ll do it together. You have my word” you promised.

“Thank you, y/n/n”.

“Y/n/n? It’s been a long time since I heard some calling me that. Only my mother does” you informed him.

“Alright, not Y/n/n. How about my queen?” It was more of a statement than a question “I’d uhm bend the knee, but-“.

“What about those who swore allegiance to you?” as much as you loved hearing him say those words, you wanted to be sure that he means it.

“They’ll all come to see you for what you are”.

In all this sadness, you managed to find a moment of happiness. You smiled and held his hand.

“I hope I deserve it” tears were forming in your eyes. He’s the first person who didn’t serve your mother to acknowledge you as his queen.

“You do” he assured you.

He stared at you and you got lost in the moment, before snapping out of it “you should get some rest” you retreated.

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