#and I am sitting here w so maybe sansa thinks a lot

[catofoldstones]

I am too dumb for the asoiaf tumblr fandom and I am too level-headed for the asoiaf reddit fandom, where do I go?

[talpup]

Erase the Shadow: Chapter 7

Please remember, this fic is rated explicit and has warnings of sex, violence, and other possible triggers.

***If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22027552/chapters/53989750

7.1

Tsukauchi escorted Shouta out into the precincts main hall.  “When I called you about this, I didn’t expect you to show up.”

“I was nearby.”  Shouta said, stretching the truth.

His apartment could arguably be considered nearby depending on what level of distance they were talking about.

Reaching a deserted section of hallway, Tsukauchi held out a staying hand and stopped walking.

Shouta’s eyebrows pulled together as he came to a stop beside the Detective.

Tsukauchi looked around wanting to be sure no one else was close enough to hear them.  “Care to tell me what’s going on here, Eraser?”

Playing dumb wasn’t Shouta’s style, so instead he remained silent despite knowing Tsukauchi would press.  He almost turned and resumed walking, but that felt too much like running away.

“When you asked me if I ever heard mention of the Void, and to please inform if I did, I figured it was for a case you were working on and didn’t ask too many questions.  But now a villain’s tried to blow up a power plant in the name of this Void and killed himself rather than be apprehended by Ingenium.  So case or not.  I need to know. What’s going on?  Who or what is this Void?”

“I have nothing of use.”  Shouta said.

Not giving up, Tsukauchi countered.  “Well considering we have nothing. Anything would be of use.  Is the Void a person or a group?  What do they want?”

Shouta rubbed his forehead.

What could he to say?  That the Void was a dark, shadowy figure that occasionally came to haunt him and Teris in their shared dreams. That it had been doing so since they were children; but only recently had became solid enough to touch them.  That it could touch them but neither of them could touch it.  That when the Void had gotten a hold of Teris he hadn’t been able to help cause they couldn’t touch either.  And that no, Tsukauchi couldn't even verify this crazy story with Teris; because she didn’t remember any of it upon waking.

“I have nothing, Tsukauchi.”  Shouta said.  “Truly.  I don’t.”

Shouta wished he did.  He wished he understood why Teris didn’t remember their dreams, or why the Void was occasionally there and growing more powerful.  But he didn’t.

“You’ve got to know something.”  Tsukauchi pressed.  “You came to me with the name before I or anyone else had ever heard of it.”

I only came to you because of something the Void had said the last time it had shown up, Shouta thought.  The fact that the Void now had a voice was a recent and disturbing thing.

Shouta opened his mouth to respond, but a voice cut in before he could speak.

“Aizawa?” Tensei’s smiled widened as he drew closer.  He clasped his friend's shoulder in greeting and spoke to Tsukauchi.  “Sansa told me you have everything you need.  But don’t hesitate to call if you have any more questions.”

Tsukauchi inclined his head.  “Thank you, Ingenium.  Eraser.”  His eyes briefly pierced Shouta’s.  “Feel free to call me if anything comes to mind.”

“I will.”  Tensei said.

Shouta gave Tsukauchi a curt nod and made for the exit.

He hated not telling the Detective what little he knew.  Tsukauchi wasn’t what Shouta would call a friend; but they had worked together enough times that he felt he could count on him.  Contacts like those were rare and hard to come by.  But if his own soulmate didn’t even believe him when he had told her the truth, Tsukauchi would surely think he was crazy.

Tensei’s phone dinged.  “Awesome!”

He replied to the text glad that he had been able to change out of his costume before coming to the precinct and pocketed the phone.

Shouta was almost to the exit when Tensei caught up to him.

“So, are you coming?”

Shouta almost said no; but it would be illogical without knowing what he was saying no to, even if he had a pretty good idea.  “Where?”

Tensei pushed opened the door, holding it for Shouta.  “Not sure yet.”

Shouta stepped out into the night and halted.  “Yamada.”

What was Hizashi doing here?  Much to Shouta’s heartache and annoyance, he was well aware that his friend would be spending the week at Teris’.  Maybe the two had broken up?  A twisted relief washed over him at that thought.

“Forget you have a phone or just ignoring my texts, Shou?”  Hizashi questioned, giving Tensei a smile.

“Where’s Teris?”  Tensei asked.

“What?” Shouta blinked.

Teris. Was she here?  Shouta’s eyes scanned the sidewalk.

“I sent you several texts.”  Hizashi told, then turned to Tensei. “She’s with Nemuri.  They needed some girl time.”

Hizashi had made Teris tell Nemuri about Endeavor’s visits.  Suffice it to say, girl time was going to involve a lot of chastising on Nemuri's part.

Shouta pouted into his capture weapon.  He had received Hizashi's texts.  He just hadn’t read them.  Of course he would’ve skimmed them eventually.  He simply hadn’t been in the mood to look them over at the time.  Not when Hizashi was spending the week with the woman that he was meant to be with.

“Well, not that I don’t already know the answer.”  Hizashi went on talking to Shouta.  “But, do you wanna go out and party with us tonight?”

Shouta almost said no.  It was instinctual.  He didn’t like going out. And partying was the worst.  On top of that, it was the night of the new moon.  The night he got to see and spend time with Teris in their dreams.

But, Teris was here.  And if Hizashi was going, then logic unfortunately dictated that Teris would be meeting him.

The thought of seeing Teris in person made Shouta's heart race.  To spend time with her.  Real world time, where they might touch…

“Alright.” Shouta answered.

“Really?” Tensei beamed.  “Alright!”

Hizashi's smile tightened a fraction.  “That’s great man.  You never say yes.”

Tensei threw his arms around the two.  “And Kan said he was good to meet too.  This is gonna be like the good old days.”

7.2

Kan was already at the bar munching on snacks.  “You’re late.”

“Nah! You’re early.”  Hizashi shot back.

“Where are Nemuri and Teris?”  Tensei asked.

“They’re the ones that ’re late.”  Hizashi said.  “Girls.  Am I right?”

“What does that make you?”  Shouta muttered, taking a seat.

“What’s that suppose to mean!”

“Aizawa’s right Yamada.”  Tensei said, moving around the table.  “You always took longer than the girls.”

“Everyone was always left waiting for you to shower and get ready after special training.”  Kan agreed.

“Hey! You think this just happens?”  Hizashi asked, pointing to his loose, luminescence hair.  “I mean I know I’m hot, but even I gotta put some effort in if I wanna catch eyes.”

“And why would you want to do that?”  Teris questioned from behind.

“Baby!” Hizashi spun around and hugged her.

Sliding around the kissing couple, Nemuri sat between Shouta and Kan.

“Answer the question, Zashi.  Why would you want to catch someone's eye?” Nemuri teased.

“I didn’t get to finish.”  Hizashi said, still holding Teris close.

“There was more?”  Teris questioned.

“This should be good.”  Nemuri smirked.

“Totally!” Hizashi answered Teris, hands gliding up at down her arms.  “What I was gonna say was, even I gotta put in some effort if I wanna catch eyes or keep the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Nice save.”  Teris chuckled.

“Save? Ris!  Baby!  I meant every word of it.  You’re the most drop dead gorgeous girl there is, Ris Wren.”

“You sure you’re wearing the right prescription?”  Teris teased, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Aren’t they adorable!”  Nemuri gushed.

Kan scowled at her as she picked food off his plate.  “There’s a menu on the table, Nemuri.”

Shouta stared at the tabletop.  He didn’t want to see the woman he loved in another mans arms.

“Do I have to show you just how amazing you are again?”  Hizashi asked, voice lowering.

Teris trembled at the deeper timber and memory of Hizashi worshiping her body.

“I missed you, Ris.”  Hizashi whispered, once again leaning in to kiss her.

Teris pulled back from his encroaching face.  “It’s been what?  Two hours?”

“So? I still missed you, Babe.  These two weeks were meant to be just you and me.  And now I gotta share you for the night.”

Teris began to squirm in Hizashi's arms.  People were starting to stare and it was making her uncomfortable.

“Share. What did you have planned for us next week?”

Hizashi grinned down at her.  “How ‘bout I show you when we get back to my place.”

Tensei cleared his throat loudly.

Hizashi turned to him, hold loosening and Teris stepped back.

“Hey, Tensei.”  Teris greeted, her gaze flicking from him to the man she could see over his shoulder.

Shouta. He looked good.  Better than good.  Tired.  But just as handsome as she remembered.  She shook her head, focusing her gaze back on Tensei.  She was with Hizashi.  She shouldn’t be checking out Shouta.  The two were best friends for goodness sake.

True to self, Shouta spoke little as the night progressed.  He had trouble taking his eyes off Teris though; and was sure Hizashi caught him staring a number of times.

Hizashi's arm hung over the back of Teris’ chair as he drank and laughed with his friends.  He had caught Shouta watching Teris several times throughout the night, but that didn’t bother him much.  If anything having Shouta sit across the table while he sat beside his girl filled him with a sense of wicked pride.

Sure Shouta was his best friend, but being in the same class at UA had seen them compete against each other quite often.  In most of their face offs Shouta had won.  Hizashi might've been taller, but Shouta was wider, stronger.  Shouta was also faster and far better trained at hand to hand combat.  And since Shouta could erase his quirk, their matches had always seemed to come down to a physical fight.

Suffice it to say, it felt good to beat his friend at something.  Especially something that they both had wanted for years.

He caught Teris gazing at Shouta again and shifted in his seat.

As much as he liked Shouta watching him with the Teris.  Hizashi didn’t like Teris watching Shouta.

Shouta's eyes meet Teris’ from across the table.  Despite it happening several times already, he breath still caught.  Was she looking at him because she felt him staring?  Was that way she looked so shy and nervous when their eyes meet?  He was acting like a total creeper and needed to stop.  But try as he might, he couldn’t.

“So when and how did this happen?”  Tensei asked, leaning forward and wagging a finger at Hizashi and Teris.

Kan signaled the waitress.  Working with Hizashi at UA, he had heard the tale too many times to count and was tired of it.

“Well...” Hizashi pulled his arm off Teris’ chair and began to tell the story in great detail.

Tuning Hizashi out, Shouta ordered another drink as well.

By the time Hizashi finished Kan and Shouta's drinks had long since been delivered.

“Well I’m happy for the two of you.”  Tensei said.  Sitting beside Hizashi, he clasped him on the shoulder.  “Especially you, Yamada. You’ve had a thing for Teris ever since UA.”

“So did, Aizawa.”  Kan put in, red eyes looking across Kayama to Shouta.

Hizashi's smile faltered.

Teris’ breath caught.

Shouta tensed.

It was a struggle not to give into the urge to duck into his capture weapon.  Instead Shouta bit his tongue and met Kan’s gaze with a steely one of his own.

I had a thing for her way before Hizashi ever met her, Shouta thought. She’s my soulmate, you over muscled idiot.

“That’s right!”  Tensei said, oblivious of the tension.

“You even tried to kiss her, didn’t you, Eraser?  Fed her some line about shared dreams and being soulmates.”  Kan jerked.

Nemuri slammed her heel into the top of Kan’s boot, grinding it in.

If Shouta had been frozen still, he would have ducked into his weapon that time.

Teris stood up.  “Excuse me.”

Hizashi reached after her, mouth open, but she was already gone.

“Leave her.”  Nemuri told Hizashi when he rose from his seat.

Hizashi wanted to argue; but Nemuri knew Teris better than him, and so he sat back down.

Tensei looked around the table.  He felt bad.  It was his question and comment that had started it all.

Nemuri glared at Kan.  “It’s bad enough you were the one who spread the story back then, Vlad.  There was no need to bring it up now.  The only reason you even knew what happened, is because you were lurking around the girls locker room.”

Kan sat to his full height.  “I wasn’t lurking.  And I didn’t spread anything.  I told one person and--”

“It was a private conversation, Vlad.  You shouldn’t have told anyone.” She took Kan’s drink as her own.  “I suppose we should be glad that the only private thing your creep session got you was--”

Kan’s hand hit the table.  “I told you!  I wasn’t...”

But Shouta didn’t hear anything else.  He was too stunned.  All this time he had thought that Teris had spread the tale of his failed confession, while privately laughing at him along with everyone else. To now learn that she had only been confiding in her best friend and Kan had overheard…

He felt so stupid!  He should have known better.

Nemuri could practically see Shouta's mind spinning.

Had the poor guy really thought that the girl he loved had told the entire hero course of his sweet but cheesy line and attempt to kiss her?  Well that explained why Aizawa had never made another move.  He more than Hizashi had had a chance at Teris during the first few months after graduation, before Teris had moved away.

Nemuri's heart went out to him.

Eyeing Shouta's drink, she elbowed it, knocking it over.

“Oh my goodness!  Aizawa, I’m so sorry.  Here.”  Nemuri took a few napkins and patted the damp spot in his pants.

“I got it.”  Shouta gritted, taking the napkins from her.

This was one of the many reasons he didn’t go out.  Too many people. People who spilled things and touched him.

“You should go try and clean that up a bit.”  Nemuri instructed.

Shouta shot her a glaring ‘you think’ and pushed out of his chair.

“Sorry. I’ll buy you another.”  Nemuri called after him.

Shouta stepped out of the bathroom feeling as if he had made a bigger mess. It seemed to be the story of his life.

He sighed looking down a the wet spot in his pants.  Thankfully the black made it nearly impossible to see in the low lighting.

His dark eyes lifted to the table his friends sat.  Teris’ chair was still empty.

His gaze panned the bar looking for her.

7.3

Teris pressed her forehead against to cool brick of the building.  Her breath and anger at Kan had steadied, but she still couldn’t find it in herself to want to go back inside.

Shouta still hated her.  She could tell.  And why wouldn’t he?

He had told her the stupidest, sweetest, most heartfelt tale about being soulmates and sharing dreams, and she had yelled at him and thrown him out.  Then Kan had overheard her asking Nemuri if she thought she could make a relationship work with Shouta given her school and work schedule, and any chance between them had been ruined.  The tale of what had happened that night between Shouta and her had been spread. And Shouta thought she was the one who had spread it.

“If you’re cold you should go inside.”

Teris jumped at the sound of a low, rough voice behind her.  “Shou—Damn it.  Give a girl some warning, would ya.”

“And you call yourself a pro hero.”  Shouta played, smirking lightly.

“All the more reason you shouldn’t go sneaking up on me.  Who knows what I’d do to you.”

“I trust you.”

The light in Teris’ eyes dimmed.

“You’re shivering.”  He noted.

“And you smell like a distillery.”

“You can blame Nemuri for that.  Here.”  He unzipped his black jacket and pulled it off.

“Wha—what are you doing?”

“You’re clearly not ready to go back inside.”  Shouta commented, placing the jacket around her shoulders.  “What kind of hero would I be if I let you freeze?”

“It’s hardly freezing, Shouta.”  Teris said, even as she pulled the jacket tighter around her.

It carried his warmth and scent, and she instantly felt the tension in her neck ease.

“Some friends we have.  Sometimes I wonder why I bother keeping them.” Shouta said, hands sliding into his pockets.

Teris’ head fell, if felt as if he were remarking on her.  Then again, Shouta would have to consider her a friend to wonder why he still kept her as one.

Shouta looked at her out of the corner of his eye.  Here is was trying to bridge the rift between them that had been made all those years ago, yet somehow it felt as if it only grew wider.

It pained him that the easy relationship and tender understanding he and Teris had in their dreams didn’t exist in the real world.  He wanted nothing more than to fix whatever was broken between them but he didn’t know how.

He had already tried telling her the truth once.  And…

“There you are, Baby!”

Shouta's eyes closed at the sound of Hizashi's voice.  He had finally had his long sought moment alone with the woman that he loved, and he had spent it standing around thinking about to say like an idiot.

Hizashi made his way to Teris, standing between her and Shouta.  In one smooth move, he pulled Shouta’s jacket off her and draped his other arm over Teris’ shoulders.

“You’re shivering, Ris.”  Hizashi said, holding Shouta's jacket out for him to take as he led Teris to the door.  “Let’s get you inside where it’s warm, Babe.”

Shouta took back his jacket.

He seriously debated on whether he should just go home.  Hizashi or Nemuri would take care of his bill.  They’d probably even refuse his attempts to pay them back.

But the thought of not sharing a dream with Teris because she was out partying all night with friends made him sick to his stomach. Especially since he could be a part of that group of friends if he stuck around.

His gaze lifted to see Hizashi holding the door open for Teris.

Teris looked back at Shouta, their eyes locking for a moment before Hizashi stepped in the way, following her inside.

“You coming, Shou?”  Hizashi called over his shoulder.

That one shared look with Teris had Shouta’s feet moving after her before he even told them to.

7.4

It was late, or more correctly very early morning.

Shouta sunk into the booth seat across from Hizashi with a long, tired sigh.

“When’s the last time you stayed out all night partying, Man?”

Shouta cracked an eye open and looked at his friend.

“Three coffees, please.  That’s all.”  Hizashi told the cafe’s waitress.

“Does your last garden party count?”  Shouta murmured as the waitress walked away.

“Oh, Man!”  Hizashi sniggered.  “That party was amazing!”

Leaning his head back, Shouta smirked.  “It was some pretty good stuff.”

“Remember Tensei?”

Shouta crossed his arms and sunk deeper into his seat.  “Didn’t he use his turbo against in a race against a paper airplane Kan made?

“Thanks!” Hizashi told the waitress.  “What you you mean, didn’t he?” He stressed, opening several packets of sugar.

“Well it wasn’t my window he crashed through.”  Shouta remarked.

Hizashi laughed at that.  “I think that ruined everyone’s buzz but yours.”

“I was pretty far gone by then.”  Shouta admitted.

Hizashi stirred in four containers of creamer and grinned.  “Yeah.  You were.  We were left tripping around you for the rest of the night.”

“It was a good place to sleep.”

“It was the middle of my living room floor.”

Shouta gave a toothy smile and shrugged.  “Weed makes me sleepy.”

“It also makes you super chill.  You slayed Kan in the karaoke contest earlier that night.”

Shouta exhaled thinking of how he wanted to slay Kan Sekijiro now.

He still couldn’t believe he had ever thought Teris had told everyone. A part of him wondered how things would have turned out between them if he had known back then.

Would she and Hizashi be together now?  Or would he be with her?

He certainly would have made another move after graduation when they had worked uncover on that case shortly before she moved away.

Wanting Shouta’s opinion, Hizashi called.  “Hey.”

Shouta opened an eye.  He saw Teris headed their way and sat up.

Hizashi turned and smiled at his girl.  “Hey there, Baby!  Everything back home alright?”

“Yeah.” Teris said, sitting in the booth beside Hizashi.  “You just turned my life upside down is all.”

“Love 'll do that to you, Sweetheart.”

Shouta stared at the table waiting for Teris to laugh Hizashi off and deny it, but she didn’t.  His heart twisted.  Did she love Hizashi?  The two had only been together eight weeks.  He tried to tell himself that she figured Hizashi was joking.  But the fact that she didn’t refute it still sat uneasy with him.

Seeing her pout, Hizashi put an arm around her.  “I know you’re awesome, Babe.  But they’ll get by without you for two weeks.  Heck!  I bet the case is closed by the time you get back.”

“As if you’d say that if the situation were reversed.  I can’t believe you talked me into coming here early.”

“Whoa! Babe.  You’re making Shouta feel bad.  And I didn’t talk you into anything.  I convinced you.  Which I did a helluva job at, if I may say so myself.”

Teris felt her cheeks warm as she turned to Shouta.  The last thing she wanted was Shouta thinking she didn’t want to be here because of him.

“Sorry.” She apologized.  “It’s not you.  Really.  I’m—I’m actually really glad we got to hang out.  I missed this.”  I missed you, she thought.  She shook her head clear.  “It’s just work--”

“No need to explain.”  Shouta said, glad that she had.  A part of him had already begun to think that she didn’t want to be there because of him.  “I understand.”

“You won’t believe the case she’s working on, Shou.  My girl’s gotta be the best underground hero there is.”

“You’ve always been smart.”  Shouta told her, thinking that he agreed with Hizashi wholeheartedly.

He might not have seen her since Nemuri's twenty-first birthday party, but that didn’t mean he didn’t track her career.  Even if he didn’t love her, Shouta would've loved to work with her.

“Both of you stop it.”  Teris blushed.  “Hizashi’s the Valedictorian here.”

“How he managed that when seventy-five percent of UA’s hero course GPA is decided by practical exams still makes me wonder.”  Shouta huffed giving his friend a toying look.

“It’s called being easy to get along with, Shou. You should try it some time.”  Hizashi said only half playing.  “I mean I know my quirk is distance ranged and deadly.  So even if I wasn’t able to deal with the problem by myself, I was always able to pull everyone together and convince them to do what was needed.”

“What you decided was needed.”  Shouta clarified.

“Same difference.”  Hizashi said.  “I hate to brag--”

“You love to brag.”  Shouta interjected.

“--but we’re the three smartest ones from our graduating class and I got both of you beat by several IQ points.”

Smiling, Teris made a derisive noise.

“Plus, like I said, my quirk is crazy powerful, yo!”

Teris rubbed her ear and joked.  “Even when you’re not using it.”

Hizashi turned to her and smiled.

“Aw, I know you love it when I use my quirk, Babe.  In fact,” Hizashi moved closer and whispered in her ear, “I might just use it on you again when we get to my place.”

The corners of Shouta's lips turned down.

It was stupid and petty to be angry at Hizashi, but he was.  Shouta didn’t want see his best friend whispering to and kissing the woman that he loved; yet for some sick reason, he couldn't help but watch out of the corner of his eye.

Teris shyly accepted Hizashi's nuzzling kiss to her neck and ear.

She wasn’t completely comfortable with such public displays; but had learned to give into Hizashi's affections least she hurt his feelings.  It was actually nice most of the time.  But as it seemed to be with everything about Hizashi, he had to take things to the extreme.

“Control yourself.”  She told, turning to give him a chaste kiss in return.

Hizashi smiled at her light scolding.  “I’m trying, Ris.”

“Try harder.”

Hizashi took her hand and led it under the table.  “I got your harder right here, Babe.”

Teris sucked in a breath at the feel of his semi-hard cock.  She couldn’t help but give it a squeeze.

Hizashi emerald eyes positively smoldered.  “Do that again and I’m taking you out back, Beautiful.”

“Zashi, stop.”  The words came out somewhere between a hiss and a cracked plea.

Grinning widely, Hizashi relented.  His hand lifted off hers as he sat back, throwing an arm around her shoulder.

“Hey, Shou.  You wanna scold my girl for me?”

Teris stiffened under Hizashi's arm.

Shouta’s lifted his head, eyes moving from Teris to Hizashi.

Hizashi’s smile widened.  It really did give him a sick sort of pleasure watching his friend look so uncertain.  And the ache in Shouta's eyes…  Why did he enjoy seeing that hurt so much?

“Zashi.” Teris warned.

“What? You think he won’t hear about it from Nemuri and me?  One of us is bound to tell him, Babe.  Especially since he asks Kayama about you all the time.”

He saw the slight widening of shock in Shouta’s eyes.

That’s right, Hizashi thought his own eyes boring into his friend's.  I know.  Did you really think I didn’t?  You should have quit asking Nemuri about my girl the moment you learned we got together.

It took Shouta half a second to recover enough to form a reply. “Scolding is for children and unruly students.  Teris is an adult.”

“Thank you, Shouta.”  Teris gave Hizashi an ill tempered sideways glance.

Hizashi told Shouta about Endeavor’s visits to Teris’ apartment, and the threats he had made.

“And you didn’t immediately go to the Hero Commission the moment he left the first time?”  Shouta censured.

“What happened to scolding is for kids and me being an adult!”  Teris complained.

“If you had acted like a responsible adult and gone to the Commission then--”

“Acted like a responsible adult!”  Teris cut in over Shouta's words.  “Do you even hear yourself?  You.  The guy who forgets to eat and barely sleeps cause he’s too focused on hero work and his students, is chastising me about being irresponsible.”

Shouta blinked.  He felt a small thrill wondering how she knew about his life style, then realized Hizashi must have told her.

Hizashi turned to her.  With their time together before now being regulated to the weekend, he had rarely talked about anyone, especially Shouta. And when she asked about Shouta, he had done his best to steer the conversation away from him as quickly as possible.

He certainly hadn’t talked about Shouta's minimal self care that had continued over from their days at UA.

So how did she know about Shouta's sleeping and eating habits?  Had his girl been asking Nemuri about Shouta in the same way that Shouta had been asking about her?

Hizashi ground his teeth, smile never wavering.  He was definitely going to have to talk to Nemuri.

“Get a decent meal and few winks of sleep before you try to tell me I’m the irresponsible one, Shou.”  Teris finished.

“Can we just agree that we’re all irresponsible in our own way.” Hizashi said, feigning a banner of peace.

“You at least have it taken care of now, don’t you?”  Shouta pressed, gaze fixed on Teris.

Teris rolled her eyes.  “Yes.”

“You went to the Hero Commission and filed a report.”  Shouta elaborated, needing to be sure.

“Yes!” Teris stressed.

“Who did you file it with?”  Shouta asked, thinking that he would call and check in on the matter.

He wanted to make sure this didn’t get swept under the rug like things often did with top heroes.

“It’s taken care of Shou.  I went with her.  You don’t need to worry.  I know how to take care of my girl.”

Shouta exhaled.  Hizashi's words made him feel both relieved and agitated.

“I can take care of myself.  Thank you very much!”  Teris bristled.

“Clearly you can’t.”  Shouta remarked.

“If you could you would've reported the first visit straight away, Babe.”

Shouta nodded in agreement.

Teris looked between the two.  Were they really teaming up against her?

It wasn’t as if she had much of a leg to stand on, so she prompted. “Well it’s over and done now so can we move on?”

Looking at Shouta, Hizashi asked.  “You don’t think Todoroki will bug her again?  Do you?  I mean he’s got some pretty high connections and I doubt the guy’s use to being told no.”

Shouta scoffed.  “Todoroki Enji’s a nobody.”

“Wow! Shouta. I’ve never heard you be so snobbish before.”  Hizashi commented.

He would've thought his friend was talking that way to impress Teris, but both of them knew Teris better.  If anything, Shouta's words would have vexed her.

“It’s true.”  Shouta told.  “He might be the number two hero; but outside of heroing his name and status mean nothing. Like it or not, it’s those above and beyond the hero spotlight that hold the true power.”

It was why private instructors of the hero course had never been presented as a good thing to the public; because those in power had difficultly controlling solitary teachers who weren’t beholden to them.  Unlike large schools like UA which received a major part of their funding from shadowed elites.

Shouta fixed his gaze on Teris.  The Aizawa's were hardly as powerful as the family she had come from, but she was no longer part of that family.

“I could speak to some friends of my parents--”

“No!” Teris interrupted.

“Are you sure?”  Shouta asked, tamping down his need to protect her.

He told himself that he would do as she wished, even if it her response wasn’t the one he wanted.

“It fine, Shouta. Really.  I appreciate the offer but it’s been reported.  I just want to move on.  Please. Any other attention it gets will only make things more difficult on me.”

That wasn’t necessarily true, but Shouta thought he understood her real fear and it warmed his heart.

Just because he would have been going to friends of his parents didn’t mean that whatever he asked wouldn’t be without a cost. It was one of the many reasons he stayed away from those circles.  He didn’t care for that life any more than Teris did.

While he liked to think that his parents were different, he really couldn’t say.  After he had scared off his ninth nanny, the Musutafu house butler had taken over looking after him while his parents where away.  With the man busy and Shouta being an only child, he had spent his time studying, waiting for night to fall so he could go to sleep and see his only friend.

“If you’re sure.”  Shouta murmured, still wanting to protect her no matter the cost.

“I am.  But thank you, Shouta.  I really do appreciate the offer.”

Teris smiled at him, and for Shouta there was no better sight in the world.

I write for my own enjoyment, but edit and post for yours.  If you enjoyed reading this at all please comment and let me know.  It’s the only thing that encourages me to keep editing and posting.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a VERY special thank you to those who have left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

As always, an extra special thank you to @inorganicone2230 for their encouragement and friendship.  This fic was my personal guilt pleasure, and without them never be getting posted.

[tigereyes45]

Got Fanfic Prompt: modern AU, Model!Sansa/Photographer!Tyrion

This ended up being a long one, and I’ll probably write more of it too. I hope you enjoy!

Sansa feels her body grow tense as she spies the photographer walk into the room. She knew who it was from once glance at him. Her eyes remain glued long after the realization that the well-known photographer, Tyrion Lannister, would be capturing her form today. His siblings were well-known models and their father a political force to be reckoned with. She would have to make a good if not lasting impression on the man. Otherwise, her career in modeling may be far shorter then she wanted.

As Petyr brings the man straight to her Sansa found herself taking a few steps back. A part of her wanted to run back to her dressing room. Where she would be alone, and Sandor would keep everyone out. He always kept everyone out. Even Petyr. One wrong step and her whole career would be over. Yet despite all her fears she also felt excited. She was meeting a celebrity! She had worked with several well-known models and photographers before but never someone on the level of the Lannisters.

Petyr’s smile is strained as her mother’s childhood friend, and her boss introduces her. Sansa smiles at them. She tries to put on her best smile and look as innocent as possible. Sometimes it was degrading, pretending to be so innocent and airheaded for the men. Her mind was constantly working on a new plan to get a better job. Just as Petyr had taught her to do.

“This is Tyrion Lannister. He is here for a shoot with you.”

“Is this for a commercial?” Sansa asks even though she really wants to know what product it is for.

“Not exactly.” Tyrion begins offering out his hand. Sansa moves to shake it but as soon as her hand touches his Tyrion takes hold of it. He brings it to his lips and places a gentle kiss on the top of her hand.

“Uh,” she glances to Petyr who offers her no guidance. “Then I’m confused.”

“I want to take some photos of you. It’s not for any commercial or promotion.”

“W-why me sir?” Sansa asks trying to sound baffled when she was really just suspicious now. What sort of photos would he want of her? She stated in every contract she would not do nudes. It was one of the only things her and Petyr ever argued over when it came to jobs. One mention of her mother often stopped the man from pushing the subject further. Had he agreed to the job for her before she even had the chance to glance at the contract?

“Quite simply. You are beautiful so I would like to do a photo op.” Tyrion explains as he releases her hand.

“He has asked if you would be willing to meet him for the shoot at the Landing Beach for it.” Petyr chimes in. This was happening and suddenly Sansa wishes she had never agreed to model under Petyr’s company.

“I see no problem with that.”

“Perfect. How about tomorrow at 2pm?” Tyrion asks as he digs his hand in his pocket.

Sansa looks at Petyr unsure if she was free. He shows her his clipboard and how she was free the whole day. “Perfect.” Sansa agrees as he pulls out a business card. His green eye alit with mischief as his black eye remains solid, unreadable.

“I’ll be there,” and so Sansa promised to meet with the Lannister in one of the most populated places in the city. At least if things got awkward they wouldn’t be alone. As she turns her back to the men she realizes he had not told her what to wear. She could assume it would be a swim-suit but every photographer was different with their preference. When Sansa looks back she sees that Tyrion was gone and Petyr with him. She looks back down at his card to see his business number. The card was a simple design. A golden lion with a black one across from it. Their claws meet in the middle with a setting sun behind them. She flips it over to see a new number written in ink. The word cell and an arrow pointing up towards them. She could text and find out tomorrow what he wanted her to come in.

Sansa struggles to finish her hair as Rickon cries loudly outside her door. Her young brother pounds his fists against her locked door. Each pound being met by louder screaming. She turns on the blow-dryer and sets it back in its holder. The roaring from the blow-dryer barely managing to cover up Rickon’s cries.

“That’s unfair!” Her twelve-year-old brother shouts. “Why can’t I come to the beach with you?!” Sansa rolls her eyes, once more swearing she would move out of home. As soon as she found a friend to leave with her. She turns off the blow-dryer and finishes curling her hair.

With a glare at the door, she shouts, “Because you act like a baby Rickon!”

“No, I don’t!” She could hear him stomping his feet in the hallway.

Sansa stands up and double checks her phone. Tyrion had finally responded to her text. A simple, ’Anything :),’ had left Sansa trying on different clothes all morning. She had decided on a green crop-top with an orange floral print on it. The shirt sort of clashed with the khaki shorts she was wearing. Sansa had stolen them from her brother’s closest and sewn her own design on the legs as practice. She was actually proud of how the long-stemmed roses came out. Their shade of green almost matches perfectly with the green of her top, and the red petals went well with the navy blue bikini she had on under.

“Please Sansa! You’re supposed to watch me today and no one else is here! Can I come with please!”

Sansa opens the door carefully. Only to see that Rickon hadn’t been kicking at it anymore. Instead, he was sitting cross-legged on the floor with his back against it. He looks up, tears still fresh in his eyes. His face a bright red. Almost as bright as his hair. She wasn’t sure if it was from the crying or the screaming but she had no chance to ask as he jumps up and looks hopeful.

“First off, I wasn’t supposed to watch you. Arya was. It’s not my fault she left and told me to watch you last minute. Secondly, I am going to the beach for work. Not for fun. Thirdly, you are twelve years old. Can’t you watch yourself by now?” Sansa asks as her little brother’s face changes from excitement to anger.

“Mom says I’m not responsible enough to stay home alone.”

Sansa glares at him while he glares back.

Finally, Rickon breaks the silence. “How about I call mom. See if she wants me to go with you or stay home.”

Sansa snatches his phone away from him. “Fine, you can come. Go grab your swimming trunks and make sure you take lots of pictures that mom can see. If you are going to blackmail me then you better make me look like the best big sister ever to mom.”

“Deal!” Rickon agrees before darting down the hall to his room.

By the time they actually got to the beach Sansa was already tired of her youngest brother. When they arrived the beach was empty. Something Sansa thought was strange as there was a given two-hundred to four-hundred people here at any given point of a day. “Stay close.”

“Why no one is here!” Rickon announces excitedly.

“That’s exactly why. It may be closed today. Just stay nearby until we figure it out.”

“Fine.” Rickon agrees freeing himself from his seatbelt.

Sansa takes her time leaving the car as Rickon pushes himself out. They were about thirty minutes early. Sansa hands Rickon the bag with all the sunscreen and their lunch in it. He takes it without complaint and snaps a selfie. She pulls out her own phone to double check the time. Twenty minutes before the shoot was supposed to start. At least with the beach being this empty, it shouldn’t be that difficult to find the Lannister.

“Look we aren’t alone!” Rickon grabs Sansa’s hand and pulls her towards the beach. “It looks like another kid is here. Can I go play with them, Sansa? Please! I’ll stay in your line of sight.” Sansa follows Rickons finger and giggles. He had spotted the Lannister in question before she had even the chance to glance. He was wearing a white button-down t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. He wasn’t exactly dressed for the beach, nor in a way she had expected a Lannister to dress like. The only thing that seemed to make sense was the camera hanging around his neck.

“That’s not a child Rickon. Please don’t be rude. That is Tyrion Lannister, the photographer who wants to take some pictures of me today.”

“Oh, he’s really short.”

“Yes well, not all men are tall.”

“I want to be. I want to be tall like Father!”

“Maybe you will be.” Sansa waves to Tyrion who only smiles back. “Why don’t you go set out the towels and play. Just don’t stray too far into the water.” Sansa warns giving her brother permission to leave.

He was off in seconds. Tossing up sand behind him as he rushes towards the shoreline. Sansa straightens herself up and heads towards Tyrion. She puts on an apologetic smile as she reaches him.

“I wasn’t expecting company.”

“That’s my little brother. My sister pawned him off on me today.” Sansa explains. “By the time it became clear that he was coming along I was already rushing out the door. I didn’t want to be late. Hence why no messages.”

“Hence? I haven’t heard many use that word.” The Lannister points out with a smile.

Sansa could feel her cheeks grow hot. “Well,”

Tyrion raises his hand up to stop her. “Not that that’s a bad thing mind you.” He taps the camera around his neck. “Are you ready?”

“Sure. Where do you want me?” Tyrion taps his chin like he’s thinking. His eyes scan the beech and suddenly Sansa realizes why he had expected them to be all alone.

“Did you reserve the whole beach today?”

“Not the whole beach. Just the part I told you to meet me at. For about five miles we’ll be the only two. Well, three now.” Tyrion corrects smiling at Rickon.

“He shouldn’t bother us.”

“Four hours was how long we agreed upon correct? I have no doubts that the boy will grow bored at some point during those hours. It would be strange if he didn’t bother us. Now, how about we start with a few shots of you in the water?” Tyrion suggests grabbing his camera.

Sansa hurries to stand in the water. At first, she starts in the sand just close enough that occasionally the water meets her feet. He only took two photos before moving her. It took another hour for him to be pleased enough with her location and posing that he takes another photo. He moves her further out into the water and snaps six more before having her stand on the beach.

Around hour three was when Rickon got restless. Just as Tyrion had expected. At first, he stood aside and watched them. Then he moved to the towels and played with his phone. Eventually, he started asking Tyrion questions the dwarf tried to take pictures. A few times he would watch Sansa pose before asking her questions. She tried to answer as curtly as she could without messing up the photo or taking to long.

When Rickon got so bored that he started photobombing them was the last straw. At first, he was far enough to the side or back in the water that Tyrion could edit him out. When he jumped on top of Sansa, Tyrion accepted the inevitable. She holds her little brother down in her lap as Tyrion lowers his camera. She purses her lips and waits for him to break the silence first. Petyr would be upset later. Especially if Tyrion felt he had gotten no good photos.

“Well, I’d say that’s enough for today. There’s still an hour left of peace why don’t you two enjoy it.”

“What about you?” Sansa asks as Rickon grabs her hands and pulls her towards the water.

“I have to look at the photos, and I think your brother would prefer it be just you two,” Tyrion explains with a kind smile.

“It’s a large beach, and there is about an hour left. Your photos won’t go anywhere if you just relax on the beach for a little while. You rented it. You should be able to enjoy it some.”

“I’ve enjoyed it plenty,” Tyrion responds letting go of his camera.

“Come on she can’t ask you any nicer!” Rickon shouts splashing some water towards Tyrion.

“Rickon!”

“No, I suppose she can’t.” Tyrion laughs wholeheartedly, but Sansa saw him place a hand over his camera to protect it. “Let me go place this down and then I’ll join you two.”

Sansa sighs as Rickon pulls her into the water with him. She throws off her crop-top and pulls her little brother under the water with her. The way she used to always drag Arya down with her. Rickon didn’t struggle as their sister did. No, he enjoys throws his arms around her neck and hold tightly as they sit in the sand. Sansa bumps them back up and sees Tyrion was now on the water’s edge. Searching for them.

“He’s weird.” Rickon declares smiling a toothy grin.

“No weirder than you.” Sansa teases squeezing his cheek.

“I like him better than your other bosses. Will you do more photos for him?”

“I’m not sure yet. I guess that depends on him.”

“Then I’ll ask him too.” He leaps from her hands and into the water.

“No, you won’t you little brat.” Sansa grabs for her brother, but he was gone. She stands alone in the water looking horrified as Rickon talks with Tyrion. The two share a laugh before Rickon comes swimming back.

Bitterly Sansa bites her lip. She hated to admit it but she was curious. “What did he say?”

“You gotta catch me to know!” Rickon shouts as he swims past her.

“Even when I was little I couldn’t swim as fast as that.” Tyrion jokes.

Sansa catches her breath, surprised by how fast he had joined them. She wonders if he heard her question. Would he tease her for it? No, he was a professional. Rickon had her thinking like a child again. All gossip and what-ifs.

“He’s not that fast. If we work together we can catch him.” Sansa assures him.

“Then what are we waiting for. I assume you have a plan, my lady.” She giggles as he calls her that. The Lannisters were rumored to be vicious and mean. Tyrion had been nothing but patient and kind as they worked today. As she whispers the plan to him, she does hope to see more of him in the future. As he follows her plan and swims out to the left Rickon turns right just as she had predicted. At least she wasn’t the only one interested in seeing more of him.

[ansheofthevalley]

Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old - chapter five: Hold on to me [part III]

Summary:  Jon is left shaken by visions of smoke and stone. But he's also shaken by the words said the previous night; guilt, anger and hurt weight heavy in his heart. And a truth he's not ready to share yet, not even say aloud. But the truth always finds its way to the light, even if it hurts, even if it makes you feel helpless.

A/N: you can also read here

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

The morning skies were heavy and grey, and the winds were strong and cold. A storm is coming, Jon thought. He woke up in the middle of the night, haunted by dreams. The one that woke him up was more of a nightmare, his worst nightmare. He was in Winterfell, that much he knew, but it was almost unrecognizable. He was in the courtyard, surrounded by stone and smoke. Up in the air, unnerving screeches made the earth under him tremble. He wanted to run but it was as if he was a tree, his feet planted on the ground like old roots. He was alone, surrounded by smoke and shadows. He heard another screech and it rattled his bones. He felt a wave of fear wash over him as a stream of fire came from the sky and set the whole courtyard ablaze. When he woke up it wasn’t the heat of the flames he felt, but the cold winds of the winter night.

The feeling of dread that the nightmare brought with it kept Jon awake; now, the sun was slowly rising in the sky. A brand-new day. And more problems to deal with, the voice in his head reminded him. Since his mind was tormented, he figured he’d have a bath and go over some of the battle plans he had discussed with Davos. But not even hot water and the impending war against the dead could give his mind focus. His mind was everywhere. What if I made a mistake? What if this isn’t the way? He found himself thinking. That nightmare had left him shaken. It felt as real as the wooden piece sybolizing the Knights of the Vale he had in his hand, it felt as real as the wind finding its way into the room. It would have been easier if it was just the nightmare that made him feel that way, but alas, things were always more complicated. Words spoken in an empty solar, with a crackling fire as the only witness. Sansa, angry and hurt. But he also was angry and hurt. Angry at her, because he couldn't understand her, and angry at himself because somehow, he had hurt her, and seeing her hurt, again, after all she’s been through hurt him too. It would be simpler if he could just forget their argument, but his mind wouldn’t let him. Every word, every look, was printed on his mind and haunted him by repeating themselves over and over again.

“Why did you do it?”

“We already told you, he was a threat to our House”.

“He was a threat to all of us the minute he decided to stay”

“The reason I never told you about the Vale is because if I asked for his help, I knew I had to repay Littlefinger in some way. I knew what he wanted since the day we retook Winterfell, he told me himself”

“That was reason enough to send him back to the Vale”

“You need to keep men like that close to you. If they’re close, at least you can know what they want, what they do. He betrayed everyone he knew. Would you had me sent a man like that away, to plan Gods know what?”

“Yes. If it meant you were safe, then yes. Especially after I left”

“You think I kept Littlefinger around for fun? His face reminded me of every single thing I’ve been through”

He could see now that she was right. They were both right. Lord Baelish was a threat, and the more time they gave him to scheme and plot against them, the more likely he would've succeeded. But his cousins had stopped him, for good. But now, he realizes he wished he had done it himself, with his own hands. After every single crime he committed, after every atrocity, he wished he could have beat him to a pulp, until there was no more of his hand that blood and bone.

“What did you do?”

“I slept with her”

The way her body was tensed, just like a bowstring ready to be set loose. And her eyes, Gods, her eyes. He prayed to the Old Gods to be kind enough with her, for her to never encounter hurt and pain ever again, and somehow, and he delivered both at her feet. But she was quick to transform that pain into icy anger and lash out at him.

“So you decided to play the game? A game you obviously have no idea how to play?”

“You think this was a game for me?”

“It sure feels like it. First you gamble with our home and lands, then with our own lives. And now you tell me you gave yourself to her”

“I didn’t give myself to her”

“Right, you just bedded her. The North surely will thank you for that”

“You say all you want, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t do this to help the North, for the people. I’m not asking you to understand"

There could be ice between them, Seven Hells, the Wall itself could stand tall between them, but it would melt eventually. Her ice quickly transformed into fire, mimicking his. And lately, that fire has been growing, burning him slowly, painfully.

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

After a few more hours, he decided it was time he visited Bran and Sam and tell his friend the truth. The castle was fully alive, with kitchen maids coming and going, the clash of steel against steel as people trained in the courtyard, the eerie song of the dragonglass the blacksmiths were working with in the smithy. It felt familiar. War shouldn’t feel familiar, he thought. But it’s all you’ve known since you left, a voice responded. With these thoughts, he headed towards the library tower.

He knocked the heavy wooden door twice, each followed by a “wait, please” and “just a minute”. He thought Sam was surrounded by books and parchments, so he just opened the door instead of knocking the door for a third time.

“Please, be careful with the door!” Sam

“I’ll be careful” he answered, trying to calm down his friend

“Jon, it’s you” the former brother of the Night’s Watch said with a sigh of relief. “I thought it was Maester Wolkan. We’ve been gathering all the documented reports of the Others” he explained while looking at the floor, it was covered with books. There were parchments all over the table, some with ripped edges and yellow, marked by time. "I don't think he likes me very much. The library is like you're seeing it ever since I arrived" his friend continued, with more of a tint of guilt in his voice.

"He doesn't hate you, Sam. He's just used to having this place to himself" Bran said, always keeping his eyes on an old tome about the Age of Heroes that must be, at the very least, a couple of centuries old.

"As you can see, we're trying to find any piece of information about the Night King. Bran told me of his vision, of how he was made. So I thought that maybe we could find something in these books" he explained, "even if it is in the form of legend or tale".

"It goes back to the war between the Children and the First Men" Bran remarked. "Any information we can come across would most likely be written in a story, like the ones Old Nan used to tell us. Stuff of legend".

"Every single thing counts, even those you might come across as a tale. Every new piece of information we have will makes us understand him and his army, it will help us find a way to defeat him" Jon assured them.

"I really hope so" Sam said. "I'm sorry Jon, if you came to see if had any news, I'm afraid we can't give you any", the way his shoulders were down, how he looked down at the floor and how he looked, with a creased doublet he was trying to cover up with his cloak and like he needed a good night's sleep, or maybe ten; it all made Jon realized his friend has been working non-stop.

"Sam, it's alright. I already told you that the information you gave me means a lot. Don't stress yourself if you can't find anything more. We'll fight with what we have" Those last words that came out of his lips reminded him of another time, a night before a battle. He had said those words to Sansa, to assure her that no matter the odds, they would win. And they almost lost that battle, they almost lost Winterfell. He had already lost Rickon that day, right in front of him, and he almost lost Sansa too. If it weren't for her and the Knights of the Vale, he wouldn't be alive, he was certain. But it's not going to be like last time, he thought. We have more men and we have Daenerys' dragons. We can do this. I can do this. He gave his friend a reassuring smile, and he returned it.

"So, what are you doing here? Not that you're not welcomed, it's just that I figured you'd be out there in the courtyard or planning for the war. You know, what commanders do" he added with a small smile.

"I wanted to talk with you Sam" he started "We both did, actually" he said, looking at Bran.

"Why don't you sit, Sam?" Bran suggested. He did as Bran told him and sat in a stool that was near the table.

"Alright" he looked first at him, then at Bran. "You're scaring me" he laughed nervously. "What happened?"

Sam's question lingered for a few moments. He wanted to get out of there. He's my brother, I have to tell him, but Gods, I don't know how to do this. How do I tell him his father and brother were killed, he thought. Killed by fire. We both saw how Mance was fed to the flames when Stannis was at the Wall. I know we both remember the screams. I've seen men die, he reflected. I've seen women and children die. I've seen people kill each other. I've killed, yet still, it's the image of Mance, tied up in that pyre, screaming, while flames danced around him one of the images that can't leave my mind. A horrible way to die, a cruel way to die. How can she do this to people? he thought bitterly. Stand there and watch people be consumed by the flames? Are all Targaryens like this? Am I like that, too? If not, what will it take for me to be numb to it all?

"You know what happened at the Reach?" Jon asked.

"Yes. Apparently, Highgarden was assaulted by Lannister forces and now House Tyrell is dead" he recalled. "Some say Cersei made my father Lord Paramount of the South" he said this with some disbelief in his tone and a little wonderment in his eyes. "Though there's no surprise there, my father uniting forces with the Lannisters" he continued.

"Do you know anything more?" it was Bran who asked him this.

"Not really, only the rumors. That Olenna Tyrell threw herself out of a tower, that she was killed by Jaime Lannister, that the Lannister forces took all the gold and food from Highgarden, though the last one is probably true" .

"Nothing more? That's all you heard?" Jon insisted.

"Yes. There's quite a distance from the Reach to here. Rumors don't travel fast in winter, I suppose" he tried to talk in a jesting tone, but Jon noticed the tension in his voice. "Why are you asking this?"

"Because we need to tell you something. About your father and brother" Bran answered.

"Oh, Gods, they died, isn't it? They died in battle?"

"Sam, I want you to listen to us carefully, alright? I need you to listen carefully to what Bran and I are going to tell you" Jon tried to calm down his friend. He only nodded, unable to get words out of his mouth.

Bran began explaining. "Like you said, the Lannister army assaulted Highgarden. Jaime Lannister was the commander and your father and brother fought beside him. After the battle was won, the Lannister army started taking all the gold and food they could find so they could send it to the capital. Just as they were leaving the castle, they were intercepted by a horde of Dothraki riders".

Sam went white. The tales about the Dothraki and their ability to kill were known in Westeros, only now some had died by their blades and a few, a lucky few, had lived what it's like to meet a Dothraki in battle.

"Daenerys sent his men to intercept them?" Sam whispered.

"Not only that," Jon answered, never daring to look at his friend "she was there with one of her dragons".

The silence was deafening. If he didn't dare to look at his friend before, he could not dare, for the life of him, to look at him now. He only listened. There was a light sob.

"And what happened?"

"Daenerys burned all the food that the Lannister army took from the Reach. And, as if the horde wasn't enough..." Jon couldn't continue. Even as the words were about to leave his mouth, he couldn't help but imagine the massacre that it must have been. It made him sick, it made him angry.

"What happened?" Sam came closer to Jon, begging him for more information.

"She ordered her dragon to breath fire across the fields" Bran answered.

It was at this moment when Jon dared to look at Sam. His eyes were glimmering with unshed tears. There was sadness in his eyes, but there was also anger, disbelief, heartbreak. So much for him to handle.

"Your father and brother survived the battle" Jon quickly added. "There were a number of soldiers that also survived".

"So they're alive? Are they her prisoners? Did you see them at Dragonstone, Jon? Did you see them?" Sam asked frantically. Now Jon regretted telling him that. I'm getting his hopes up, only to hit him with the truth, he thought.

"Daenerys had the Dothraki take all the survivors to one spot, so she could talk to them. She talked to them about bringing peace to Westeros, how the Seven Kingdoms were suffering under Cersei's reign. She then told them to bend the knee and join her. Anyone that refused her offer would die" Bran told him.

"My father didn't kneel" Sam guessed. "He's a proud man, he'll do things they way he sees it's best, no matter the consequences".

"He didn't kneel, so Daenerys sentenced him to death" Bran concluded.

A few seconds passed before Sam talked. "You know, he wasn't a kind father. He was mean and always expressed his dissapointment in me" he revealed, with tears falling down his cheeks. "But he was still my father. He was still my mother's husband, and Dickon's and Tallas's father. I know he loved them, and they loved him".

Jon meditated on his friend's words. All his life, Sam was humiliated by his father, and now here he was, crying for his death, crying for his family. I don't dare to break my friend's heart, he thought, but he needs to know. He remembered all the times he mentioned his brother Dickon at the Wall, back when they were stewards. He always spoke of him with love and care.

"That's not all, Sam" Jon finally said. "Your brother... He stood up for your father. He refused to bend the knee too".

Sam just stared at him, his mind still processing what Jon's words meant. More tears fell down his cheeks. The silence was unbearable.

"I'm so sorry, Sam" Jon was quick to add. "I found out about it when I got here. She never told me a word of what had happened at the Reach" he explained.

"How" Sam whispered.

Jon looked at Bran. He could see something akin to worry glimmer in his eyes.

"How" Sam repeated, louder. "How did it happen? Was it beheading?" he inquired.

Jon couldn't help but gulp before answering his friend's question. "Dragonfire" Jon whispered.

Jon didn't know how much time it has passed until Maester Wolkan walked in again. "Your Grace, there you are. Lord Tyrion wishes to have an audience with you-"

"Not now, Wolkan. Tell him I'm busy" he said as he walked to the door.

"He told me it was an urgent matter"

"Tell him that right now I'm busy. Can't he talk with Sansa?" her name brought the memories of the previous night back to his head. One thing at a time, he reminded himself.

"He told me it was you he wished to speak to"

"As I said" his tone was harsher this time "tell him I'm busy. Anything that he wants to discuss with me, he can do so with the Lady of Winterfell".

"Yes, Your Grace" the Maester said with a light bow of the head and left.

Jon closed the door softly, as if it were made of glass. He turned around to see Sam sitting still, looking at nothing and quietly sobbing.

"Dickon" he started "He was good. He was good and kind and brave. And now he's dead. They're both dead" he stopped himself, as if he was coming to terms with the idea. "They didn't deserve to die like that, Jon. Nobody deserves to die like that" his friend stated.

"I know Sam, I know. And I will talk to her about thi-"

"And she comes here, talking about uniting the people, about leaving wars behind, about knowing what her father was" Sam interrumpted him, his voice becoming more frantic with each word "but she can't do that. She's not able to do that. She truly lives up to her House words" he spat.

The silence that befell the room was something tangible. Jon felt uncomfortable, he felt sorry for his friend. This is a mess.

"She doesn't deserve that Throne. What's the difference between her and Cersei Lannister? Or Stannis? He burned people alive, Bran told me he burned his own daughter. A man like that didn't deserve to rule. Cersei killed hundreds with wildfire. What's the difference between wildfire and dragonfire?"

"Sam, I will talk to her. I will confront her about this. I will get justice for your family, I promise" Jon knew he couldn't live up to his promise the moment the words left his mouth, and also did Sam.

"Justice? What justice, Jon? They're already dead. And we need her armies and her dragons" he said, resigned.

Bran's voice surprised him. "Jon" it almost sounded like a plea.

He looked at his cousin, then at his friend. He made up his mind. "We're going to win this war, we're going to defeat the Night King" he assured him. Bran called out his name once more, but Jon only looked at him. "And after we do that, you're welcomed to stay here, at Winterfell. You and your family. Your mother and sister, they can come here, once we recover from the war"

"Thank you, Jon, but you don't need to-"

"After the war, Daenerys will go south, to continue her conquest, but she won't have the North. I'll go to war, if it comes to that" Gods be good, he thought. There's no turning back from that. And I don't want to, he realized. "You're right, she doesn't deserve to rule, she does not deserve to rule over these people. We all fought so hard for our homes, many brave men and women died. We lost so much. And I'm not going to let it be in vain" he took Sam by the shoulder. "I already lost two brothers for the North's cause, I won't lose another. You're family, Sam"

Sam was really touched by everything Jon just said. It was with tears in his eyes that he replied to Jon "Daenerys is your family, too, Jon".

"She's not family. She might be my father's sister, but the Starks are my true family, you are my family". As he said those words, he felt as if a rock was lifted from his body, he was now weightless, nothing was pulling him down. "And there's nothing I wouldn't do, nothing, to keep my family safe" his grip was tighter, now.

Sam didn't say a word, he was letting Jon's words sink in. After a minute, his face transformed, even though there still were tears in his eyes, he was now smiling, a small thing really, but the smile was there. In a second, he pulled Jon into a tight hug. "Thank you, Jon. For everything" he said, tears running free down his cheeks.

They separated after Sam's words. He then went towards Bran. "Thank you, Bran. Thank you, both of you, for telling me this".

"Sam, do you want to have some time alone? Maybe we could send for Gilly and little Sam" Bran offered.

"You're very kind, but I think I'll retire to my chambers, if it's alright with you, Bran"

"Of course, go" Bran said and with that Sam was out of the Library Tower.

Jon felt free, that whatever that was holding him down now was gone.

"I hope you understand what you just did" Bran said, his eyes boring into his, like trying to figure out his future.

"What? With Sam?"

"No, the promise you made. To make the North independent"

"Well, first we have to defeat the Night King" he reminded Bran.

"Sansa's right. You gamble too much with things you shouldn't gamble with. It's too much of a risk"

Those words twisted inside him like a knife. "Sansa" was all Jon managed to say, whisper really. "What do you know about what Sansa said?"

"I know she didn't take too kindly to the nature of your relationship with Daenerys"

"Did you..." Jon was afraid to ask, afraid to know that Bran had seen their fight, afraid that he might know some things he wasn't ready to say out loud.

"Yes, I did. But only because I was worried about Sansa" he assured him. "I asked Wilton, the guard that stays at my door every night, to take me down to the Godswood at the Wolf Hour. When we were near the pools, we saw someone was there, sitting in front of the carved face. Wilton managed to see red hair, and told me it was Sansa, so I told him to take me to her. The wheeled chair is not the most sutile thing in the world, so she heard us coming. She stood up quickly, straightened her skirts and passed her hands across her face".

"Thank you, Wilton. I'll stay with my brother" she said in a dutiful tone.

"Of Course, I'll be right there by the entrance, my lady" and with that Wilton disappeared into the remnants of the night.

"What are you doing here this early?" she asked him, the dutiful tone in her voice gone. Now he could see the real Sansa, tired and conflicted about something.

"I was about to ask you the same thing. I came down to see if I could have a vision. Maybe at the Wolf Hour I'll be luckier. You?"

"I just needed some air, and some space" she was staring at the snow below her feet as she said this. "These last couple of days... It's been hard"

They stayed in silence for a while, enjoying the cold breeze of winter and the smell of fresh snow paired with the Weirwood. The smell of home.

He knew something troubled Sansa's mind, but still, he didn't expect her sister to be so direct. "Did you know about Jon and Daenerys?" her voice was stern and cold, almost as cold as the breeze.

He looked her in the eyes to respond. "Yes, I knew. And I talked to Jon about it. He told me he wanted to tell you himself"

“I just…” her breathing was ragged, as if she were running around like when they were kids, hiding behind the old trees of the Godswood. “I just don’t understand how he could do something like that” she confessed, confused and… there was something else, something Bran couldn’t quite place.

“He told me he did it so Daenerys would commit to our cause”

“Yes, I know. He told me the same” his sister told him. “But, Gods take me, I cannot understand” her voice was like ice, but there was something underneath.

“What do you mean?” he said.

“How am I supposed to tell the lords and ladies that Jon has not only bent the knee, but is also the long-lost son of Rhaegar Targaryen, and on top of that, that he’s been… consorting with Queen Daenerys Stormborn” she looked utterly lost. She looked scared, the first time he’d seen her like that since their reunion.

“It won’t be easy. Many will plot to leave. They won’t say anything in front of Daenerys, they’re afraid of her” he revealed.

“Well, she does have two full-grown dragons” she added, bitterly. “How am I supposed to protect our people? Some will label Jon a traitor, because they won’t understand, and they will plot against him, against us. But once everyone knows about Jon, I’ll have to protect all of them, the ones that will remain loyal to us and the ones that won’t from a Targaryen that’s known for burning her enemies alive”. She let out a heavy, trembling sigh. “With each day that passes, I feel like things are getting harder to control, like they’re getting further and further away from my reach, and I don’t… I truly don’t know what will happen if I fail” she confessed to him. She turned to him. Her eyes were glimmering with unshed tears. “I cannot fail, Bran. Not after all that’s happened” she whispered as a single tear fell down her cheek. "We're a pack, and the pack survives".

They remained in silence; he was taking in Sansa's words, his sister seemed to find comfort in the cold air of the night.

“You said it won’t be easy, but will we make it? Will we be able to fight together?” she asked him.

“Like I said the day Jon came home, two things could happen: he will have the support of the North and the Vale, or he will have the support of Daenerys Targaryen. I haven’t seen anything that showed me him having the support of both the lords and ladies and Daenerys.”

She set free some of the tears that she was holding back, her eyes lost, looking at something only she could see. After a few moments, she seemed more composed, free of whatever that was holding her down. “Do you want me to stay with you while you have your visions?” she offered, changing the subject.

“You should get some rest. The lords and ladies will need to borrow strength from the Lady of Winterfell”. This comment made her chuckle.

“You know, every time I come here, my mind just takes me back to when we were children” Sansa told him.

“When we played hide and seek…” he added with a little joyful tone in his voice.

“Knights dueling for the princess’ hand” she said, smiling at the past.

“Or at being wildlings” he said with a chuckle.

“Oh no, you, Arya and Rickon played at being wildlings” she reminded him. But just as she said their younger brother’s name, her face turned somber.

“I miss him, too” he said. “I’m sorry you had to see that”.

“I didn’t see it happen, Jon did” she responded. “After all that has happened to us, I thought I could handle it, that I could see Rickon like that” new tears began to fall down her cheeks. “But the truth is I only saw as Father was murdered. I didn’t see Robb or Mother. And I thank the Gods for that. Because I don’t know what would be of me if I had to witness all of it”. She stopped to dry the new tears that were falling down her cheeks.  “After we were all settled, the day we retook our home, I went to my chambers and cried myself to sleep” she continued.

“You couldn’t stop thinking about Mother and Father” he said. She just looked at him, her eyes unguarded and vulnerable.

“I miss them so much” she remarked.  After this, silence took over, leaving each of them to their thoughts. A few minutes passed before Sansa spoke again, memories pouring out of her mouth. “Mother caught me crying the night before we left for King’s Landing. I told her that I was afraid. Even though it was all I ever wanted, I was afraid. And she wouldn’t be there with me, nor you or Rickon. And what she said to me…” she smiled. It was a sad smile, remembering their parents was a hurtful thing. Still, after all these years.

“What did she say to you?” he asked.

“Hush, my love. You are a Stark of Winterfell. We might not see each other in a while, but remember you are strong, and brave. Remember our words: Winter is coming. You are a strong little lady and someday you’ll be a strong woman,a strong Queen. But also remember you’re a Tully: Family, Duty, Honor. Those are your words, too. Trust your family, remember your duty and always behave with honor. Everything will be fine. Always keep that in your heart, and you’ll always be safe”.

“She would be proud of you, Sansa” he offered. And it was the truth. Their mother would be very proud of her; not only was she Lady of Winterfell, leading them as the head of their House into the Long Night, but she was a strong woman, something she, and Arya, took from their Lady Mother.

“She would be proud of all of us. They both would" she told him. She smiled again, but this time it wasn't sadness he found in his sister's face. It was nostalgia, missing all those moments they knew they could never get back, but no matter how far away they seemed, they were sweet memories now. It was a sense of security; they were home, the four of them. They were safe. It was faith, believing that from some place, their parents were looking after them, giving them strength, guiding them.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay? I wouldn't mind" Sansa offered again. "Besides, I don't like the idea of you being here alone at dawn. There are too many strangers in Winterfell"

"I won't be alone. Wilton is at the entrance and I'm sure you'll send another guard just in case. Also, Sam should be here any minute now"

His sister studied him for a moment, considered staying with him, even though it was obvious she didn't prepare for a long stay. She had one of her old dresses on and a grey cloak to shield her from the cold. She didn't plan on coming out. She must have wandered here. Something's bothering her.

"Just send a couple of guards alongside with Wilton" he reassured her.

"Alright" she said, still not entirely convinced.

"I'll be fine, Sansa. I've been in-

Sansa interrupted him with a hug. "Just... just be cautious. Promise me?" she said with worry.

He had a feeling that she wasn't just talking about staying outside during nighttime. "I promise".

Sansa let go of him after a few seconds. Her face showed determination, but her eyes shone with sadness. "I'll see you later".

"After she left, I tried to find what affected her so much" Bran concluded. He took one look at Jon, trying to read him. "It didn't take me much to find you two at the solar" he sighed.

Jon didn't know how to feel. Was he relieved? Was he scared? Probably both. "Bran..."

His cousin didn't face him, his fixed in an invisible point in the middle of the room.

"I... I don't know what to do, Bran" he was surprised to hear his voice break. Before he knew it, he was crying the tears he held on for so long.

At the sound of Jon's tears, Bran turned to him, seeing him. "You love her" he whispered. There wasn't surprise in his voice, there wasn't reproach. It was an statement.

His sobs grew stronger and louder. He wanted to talk, to offer an explanation, but the words wouldn't come out.

"Jon" Bran sighed.

He couldn't bare to look at him. What would he think of me, the voice in his head spat. He wanted to say something to him, anything, but for the life of him, he just couldn't. He had no words and all he was left with was the tears he hadn't shed and the emotions he had held back for what it seemed like an eternety.

"Jon" Bran repeated, a little harsher this time, so Jon would look at him. "You love Sansa" he told him, as if he were a child explaining him how sums work. "And that's alright. After what you've been through, what you both have been through... You feel like you don't deserve this, don't you?"

Jon was caught off guard. He didn't expect Bran to be so direct, or to read him so clearly. "I... I..." again, words were failing him and his thoughts were all over the place. "Before I left, I was a bastard. I knew I could never give anything to anyone, that I'd had no lands to call my own, that I'd have no woman to call my wife, no children to call mine. So I never dared to think about it. I knew it would be as easy as grabbing a star from the sky" he confessed. "But then, when I came back-"

"Everything changed" Bran finished for him. "Now you know you're the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. The Seven Kingdoms are yours by rights of succession" he reminded Jon. "But that's not what you want, isn't it?"

He looked up to his cousin, and simply moved his head. "I don't want the throne, just as I didn't want the Northern crown. I just want peace and be here, at home" he told him, looking at the floor.

"It's funny how the world works, Jon. The things men and women do in order to protect those they care about. Duty can be a heavy crown... But what is duty compared to love?" he said

At the mention of those words, Jon looked at Bran. Those words had an odd feeling growing in his chest, the same effect the Red Woman's words gave him back at the Wall, when he was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

"You're surprised"

"I haven't heard that question in a long time" he said, and a sad smile started to grow on his face at the memory of the old Targaryen Maester.

"Aemon Targaryen" Bran recalled. "I'm afraid I'll have to disagree with your relative".

"How so?" Jon was intrigued.

"Duty and love are not opposites. At least, not always" he reflected. "Why did you bend the knee?"

"To protect the North" he replied in an instant

"And why do you feel like you have to protect it?" Bran asked

"Because it's my duty, it's always been. Ever since I swore an oath"

"And that duty, that desire to protect the North, where does it come from?" he continued with his inquery.

"I protect it because it's my home, a part of me"

"Your home, and you love it" he stated. "Sometimes, duty and love go hand in hand" he pointed out. "But sometimes, we must choose between one and the other. Father chose both, his love was with your mother, as same as his duty. Robb chose love, forsaking his duty" he said this as he took his hand in his. Bran's hands were awfully cold. "Jon, you've chosen duty over love so many times. You have the chance to choose love, now" he reassured him.

Jon was scared. "But what about my duty? What about Daenerys?"

Bran let go of his hand, his eyes going back to that invisible point. "Everthing will work out the way it's supposed to".

[ravenofthefandoms]

Here are my thoughts on S8E2!

REAL QUICK THO AN ANGRY REMINDER

If you’re gonna post about an episode after watching the leak TAG UR SHIT I saw way too many spoilers and literally two hours before it aired. If you can’t tag ur shit then don’t post at all until it’s over. At least then most people have seen it. If you don’t tag ur shit then ur legally an asshole so be careful

ANYWAYS Thoughts from S8E2:

- Hi yeah did Dany kinda forget that her dad was the Mad King or is she just gonna act like she’s the only one with the right to want Jaime dead?

- Also I love how she’s like “your sister lied to me wut you gonna do about it”

- She needs to step oFF of Tyrion

- I hope Jaime really does slit Dany’s throat tbh how great would that be

- Bran is great fuckin hilarious

- YAS BRIENNE DEFEND YO MANZ

- God I love Sansa so freaking much 😭 she actually values her advisors opinions unlike another queen I know

- I love how Dany expects Jon to be like “yeah babe whatever you want” and then he’s like “nah Sansa’s right”

- Grey Worm I love you but you’re not intimidating buddy I’m sorry

- Jonno does a 10/10 walkout

- Tyrion you don’t deserve this work environment abuse go give your wisdom to someone else who deserves it

- Mmmmmmm Gendry what a man

- “It’s strong enough” what ur dick?

- “What do they smell like?” What kinda question is that wtf

- PSA: sharp objects handled by Arya Stark turn on Gendry pass it on

- Arya Stark, Queen of BDE

- Fuck yes I love this Bran and Jaime reunion

- Bran is like it’s chill tbh it’s like a good thing that you pushed me out the window and made me a cripple cuz now we’re here and I’m a magical motherfucker

- Bran is the most understanding person ever after he became the Three Eyed Raven

- “She’s your new queen too” mmm no

- Actually, contrary to popular belief Tyrion, it’s not hard to blame her

- Tyrion is both smart and a dumbass at the same time how the fuck

- Jaime’s like a dog who just heard a squirrel like “????brienne?????”

- Podrick isn’t a boy anymore HE IS MY MANZ AND HUSBAND AND HOLY FUCK HE GOT HOT SO FAST LIKE THE LIGHT FACIAL HAIR? WET. SWORD FIGHTING SKILLS? WET.

- Awww Brienne and Jaime are like the awkward high schoolers who have a thing for each other

- Why does Jorah still call her Khaleesi

- I’m glad Jorah isn’t a dumb bitch. Like he literally betrayed Dany to her brother’s killer and she still forgave him but Tyrion decides to trust his sister for once??? Nope he fucked up too bad not trustworthy

- Uhhh the position wasn’t Jorah’s to be stolen

- This scene is proof that Daensa will never happen and I am glad for it

- “I wish I could have that kind of faith in my advisors” uhh??? Maybe get some new advisors then??? You should trust them??? That’s why they’re your advisors????

- PREACH SANSA CLAPBACK ON THAT BITCH BEING A HYPOCRITE

- Uh no a) the northerners accept Sansa pretty well they actually like her and b) you’re not doing a damn good job of it dumb bitch

- Uh the family that destroyed Sansa was your family dumb bitch

- Is this bitch really making the excuse that she was manipulated?¿?

- This bitch big stupid

- This scene literally reminds me of high school like Dany literally reminds me of those fake ass bitches who were sickly sweet just to get what they want from me like wtf Dany is so obviously fake that it makes me cringe

- BREAKER OF CHAINS MY ASS THE NORTH BROKE THEIR OWN CHAINS AND NOW YOU WANNA PUT THEM BACK ON DUMB BITCH EHHA (read that ehha as Cardi B)

- THEOOOOOOON YAS

- I love how he just ignores Dany and is like SANSA I WANNA SERVE U BB

- Suddenly I ship Theonsa

- This Theonsa hug is all I have ever needed in life

- Isn’t that the thief from Merlin?

- I love that little Irish girl who’s like “imma fight give me a sword” like is this Arya 2.0??

- I heart Gilly

- “I’ll defend the crypt then” YES YOU WILL LIL HUNNY YOU’LL DO A DAMN GOOD JOB OF IT TOO

- EDDAAAAAAAY AND TORMUND YAS MY FAVE BITCHES

- Tormund is like surprise bitch you getta hug me first

- Beric is basically that cool as fuck and chill as hell uncle

- “The big woman”

- We love a Jon Snow pep talk

- Bran is like “hi yeah I’d like to be uhhh bait”

- Damn Samwell you didn’t have to flex on us like that with that deep thinking aight

- YES THEON REDEMPTION ARC AS FUCK

- Noooooo let Tyrion fight you ain’t his boss bitch (I mean you are but)

- Need it for what? Taking over the north?

- “No one’s ever tried” hehe I’m in danger

- Stark fam looking badass as fuck

- Walkout #2 isn’t as smooth but still acceptable

- “It’s a long story” bitch I got time start talking

- I CACKLED when those girls walked away from Missandei like I felt bad but that was just such a “you can’t sit with us” moment

- CAN GREY WORM AND MISSANDEI JUST GO TO NARTH AND STAY THERE FOREVER AND GROW OLD TOGETHER PLEASE

- WE WILL PROTECT YOU IM CRYINGGGGG

- Ghost is that you homie????

- Awww the Nights Watch reunion made me tear up a lil

- Sam’s like “I AINT NO BITCH I KILLED A WHITE WALKER KILLED A THENN AND STOLE BOOKS FROM THE CITADEL IM THE BADDEST BITCH AROUND”

- I love this banter with my whole entire heart

- i miss grenn and pyp so much I’m crying grenn was my pre-Pod husband

- I love Lannister brother moments so much they are so pure

- Oprah is handing out redemption arcs left and right wOw

- PODRICK HE IS A MAN NOW HE IS MY HUSBAND HE IS JUST SO SEXY NOW

- CACKLINGGGGG “half a cup” pours in half the wine jug

- What a squad

- TORMUND MAKES ME LAUGH SO FUCKIN MUCH

- He’s the awkward kid who tells weird stories and then does weird shit

- “Kingslayer get it right” - Jaime on the inside

- Everyone just has a “wtf” look on their face and I’m dying

- I. AM. CACKLING. AT. TORMUND. SEND HELP

- I fucking love Sandor with my entire heart and soul

- “I fought for you didn’t I?” Touche you got her there

- *sandor doesn’t get to sit by himself* fINE WHY DOESNT THE WHOLE FUCKING NORTH COME SIT BY ME TOO HUH IF YOU ALL WANT TO. CROWD. ME HUH???

- “I’m not gonna sit with you old shits I’m gonna go fuck a bull I mean uhhhhh I gotta go ”

- Arya being lowkey jealous makes me cackle like a witch

- “Is that your first time?” “Well yeah Arya I don’t put leeches all over my dick every time I get home wtf”

- YES ARYA GET THAT DICK HUNTY YASS RIDE HIM TO STORMS END HUNTY YAAAAAAS

- ARYA IS DOM AND GENDRY IS SUB PASS IT ON

- Arya having her first time be CONSENSUAL and with someone she loves makes me happy as fUCK

- GENDRY IS THE PUREST MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR (only after Pod though)

- All I want at this point in my life is for Podrick to hold me in his big strong arms like I just wanna cuddle him fUCK

- “Not a Ser?? Why the fuck not get outta here with that bullshit”

- “I never wanted to be a knight” Podrick: I call bULLSHIT

- Tormund is supportive of Brienne even when she’s dating another guy he doesn’t even care

- WE WAITED SO LONG FOR BRIENNE AND JAIME TO HAVE A ROMANTIC AND INTIMATE MOMENT AND WE GOT AND BRIENNE EVEN GOT WHAT SHE DESERVES OUT OF IT

- Podrick is Brienne’s proud son I am living for it

- BRIENNE’S SMILE IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL AND PRECIOUS THING ON THIS WHOLE ENTIRE EARTH IT MUST BE PROTECTED

- Honestly Tormund just wants to see Brienne happy and successful and tbh I don’t think he would care if that meant that she was with Jaime

- I stg if anything happens to babygirl Lyanna i will throw fists she looks like such a little bad ass in her armor omg she’s adorable

- Yeah Jorah you don’t gotta wield it in Randals memory he was kind of an asshole

- Can Podrick sing me to sleep every night please holy fUCK

- Theonsa? Check. Gendrya? Check. Grey Worm and Missandei? Check. Podrick making my whole self thirsty for him? Check.

- Uhhh Daenerys are you not gonna be concerned that you were idk fuckin your nephew or maybe that you aren’t the last Targaryen???? Maybe something important like that not the Iron fucking Throne???

- This bitch really thinks that Bran and Sam were lying hAh she drank a lot of dumb bitch juice this episode

- Daenerys is like those anti-vaxxers or flat earthers who refuse to see the facts

- Fun fact: episode 3 is going to tear out my heart and soul, put them in a blender, and then fucken shook it until it exploded like a coke with a mento in it

- I read somewhere that said something to the effect of characters who don’t learn from the past are doomed to repeat it and that sounds like Dany w/ the Mad King to me rn

- Honestly every time Dany talked in this episode I got pissed off so that’s not good

- People be like “aw this episode was so boring” like bITCH ARE YALL MISSING THESE GREAT DOMESTIC MOMENTS?? GAME OF THRONES ISNT ALL STABBY AND SHIT IT CAN BE NICE FOR ONCE

- This episode made my heart full and I’m going to cry

- Ummmmm in case y’all haven’t seen in Dan Portman (Podrick) posted on his Instagram and it may or may not be a spoiler and if it is then I’ll kill myself

[yvvaine]

I was wondering if any [past or present] Jonerys, Pro-Daenerys fans like myself feel this way.....?

Firstly Id say please be nice i just enjoy analyzing the shit out of fandoms I like, (im a history/polysci major ((with an emphasis on Peace Justice and & Conflict Studies)) all i do is analyze and try to be diplomatic lmao) but considering all they petty drama between both ships as well as pro/anti Daenerys stans ON BOTH SIDES I’m going to be “That Person” and at least ask for people to be respectful/civil, I want to hear from everyone and their metas/what they think which is why i tagged like, all the tags, no matter if you love her/the ship or cant stand it, as long as everyone can keep civil So firstly I’ve loved Dany both books and show from the beginning. She’s gorgeous, wants to be the best person she can be, and her hair/fashion style game is always ON POINT.  That being said, somewhere around season 5 i think i’ve found my opinion on her cooling a little bit, ep after ep, till now. Like I still like her bc she was my first character love on the show but I’ve def soured in my opinion on her. Maybe it’s because I love learning about the subject that im more baised (im hoping thats the case) but she just seemed to have no interest in actual governance, just the reputation (esp of being the ‘rebel queen’)/the awe/the power/the thrill of the adoration that went along with it to the point where I feel like though she still wants to be a ‘good queen’ or at least wants to be seen that way, she doesnt want to do much work for the title. Like yeah she freed all the slaves and that was a def progressive and awesome move on her part (major props! slavery is sin and im glad someone recognized that who had the power to do something about it) but she didnt handle that aftermath or ensuing problems well at all nor really mulled heavily on the subject to find the best solution. She just got fustrated with pretty basic/common (albeit complex in themselves) issues of standard governance and kind of went agh! fuck this! (obv not actual quotes but that was the vibe I got). And then ESPECIALLY after season 7 her character has kind of nagged at me in the back of brain which i hate but its inherent like its just a feeling i cant help it?? I just dont know why to be honest that Im feeling so negative towards this character i used to love.  The whole ‘ bEnD thE knEe ‘ thing w/ Jon and yet pinning it on Jon’s pride not equally on his and her own was more than a little hypocritical, when hon they can discuss it later like at that point they have two common enemies the WW and Cersei they both want to do away with, and then again with the Bend the Knee or Die bit w/ the Lannister soldiers. In fact the whole sequence before that point felt kind of villinous I dearsay, I mean  deliberately burning the harvest that most of westeros needs for the winter or even strategically not willing to try, and well, nOOt intentionally burn the food considering its winter, the harvest is over (so likely not much is gonna grow in the time being) when she has a G I A N T ass army of her own to think of feeding???? Like i get it is war shit happens soldiers die but the F O O D ? Was that an impuslive in the moment mistake or did she just not give a fuck? And back to the aftermath scene/Bend the Knee 2.0, her speech was again quite hypocritical...and burning dickon?????? not willing to keep prisoners???? either bend or die??? I actually am glad she did away with Papa Tarly bc he was an awful human, but dickon????? a young idealistic man about to loose his father??? the heir to a major ally/house???? And honestly that bend or die strategy is soooooo dumb bc now she cant trust any of them like theyre only bending the knee out of self preservation homie, no one wants to die. they bend  the knee to survive and now they all of the sudden think youre their queen? Nah fam, prisoners were better, all you got are spies in your camps or people willing to backstab you at the smallest promise of coin. And i dont want that for my girl

IDK the whole “im gonna BREAK THE WHEEL,,,,,,,,yet im stating my claim mainly on my housename (aka the predominant force of said wheel for a literal dynasty) and the fact that i can scare people who otherwise are unconvinced bc lets be real westeros has had a bad run of rulers a lot of which were Targs in the past couple decades, into submission bc ill burn you otherwise???” doesnt sit well with me nor does it feel like the character ive been rooting for the past five-ish seasons. She just doesnt seem to put into effort on understanding Westeros, why things go wrong, being self-critical or sharing the blame,thinking on what a “good” ruler would do.... anyone else feeling this way and if so do you think this is just shitty writing? D&D butchering her character? or a new arc for her? perhaps the way shes always been? She just seems like a tantruming child bratty and entitled idk (a beautiful child but still)  As for jonerys...... im not gonna go into it much but how are other shippers happy????????? I honestly dont understand. I was SO looking forward to this season/this ship. like so much! But it felt so forced? And i know a lot of people claim its cause its rushed but tbh we’ve had a lot of romances in a similar time frame that felt like A C T U A L romances.....even Talisa/Robb who the Northerners will prob compare any of this too were so much better. THIS WAS MY EPIC SHIP DUDE. I feel the dany side of things (took a while but theres def heart eyes) and yet Jon???? He felt hollow. Still does even after sex. Im so disapointed but more than that I cant see the romance or the chemistry. He looks constipated. Hes never smiled like with his teeth around her the way hes done w others he cares deepily about (ygritte, toramund, sansa, even fkin gendry in the first scene they had together). He never reveals anything about himself. And between the “my queen” ep (and remember he was look warm when discussing her to toramund throughout it) and the previous the only thing that changed was that he saw the actual difference dragons made against WW. You could argue she saved them all too but that doesnt make you fall in love w someone out of the blue and also people have saved his ass before and??? Sansa w the vale anyone??? (Not an argument for jonsa js its happened) (though ill admit ive transitioned to loathing jonerys and loving jonsa more as a potential couple in the space of seven eps where if you asked me I wouldve been like PSH u cray. I never thought it would happen in a mill years but D&D ruined my ship and here i am! Shipping aside tho since its best too look at these things as neutral as possible).  Anyways the sigh of his after she left and when he pretended to be asleep.... idk. The only scene that felt genuine and where Jon smiled and it didnt look like a full on grimace and they actually kinda joked around was really nice and at the pit at the finale and if they do a LOT more of basic romance stuff like that I could ship it again but. It was followed by boatsex and boy.  I was hoping boatsex might rekindle my like for the two together. I could see the chemistry the passion. I was hoping the passion would overwhelm me and make up for the rest. But instead......like there was no foreplay, it lasted 2 seconds, and it was overplayed by brans voice and a reminder of future conflict or at the very least major angst b/w the two. i didnt see the parallel between regear and lyanna playing alongside their scene as anything romantic or that it should be taken as such. and the look they shared.... I was hoping jon would bring it bc Dany’s look in her eyes is like soooo smitten and adorable and say what you will I still have a space in my heart for her and still dont want her to suffer, but again Jon looks like oh shit/constipated. And not in a good oh shit way either.  There is a bunch more too but Imma stop there bc Im just tired at this point.  So many things were just....off this season. And it cant all be blamed on the “rushed” time frame. I’ve read the undercover lover theory and hon it makes the most sense (not perfect sense but still, more than what we’ve been poorly spoon fed) but im not willing to believe it just yet. Still, maybe D&D are just butchering a lot of things like making the romance believable and stuff for the sake of time that could be true i guess. But they like to go AHA GOT U so  Idk I dont find a lot of meta in the jonerys tag bc honestly (((((i think its bc the tag and ship are more popular and theirs more people both good and bad)))) it doesnt seem like snowballing theories is something all fans take really well in the tag at all. But whatever. I really want to know, is there any meta or theories im missing to either validate the icky feeling Im haveing about D or her “romance” or on the flipside anything that might make me change my mind about it? Theories, meta people! I just want to reiderate im not trying to hate on anyone or any point of view and I will flag any comment anti one ship or person or another if its plain hateful or rude. I just want to understand it and see what Im missing, esp because of how much I was looking forward to her arc and jonerys’ dynamic and how much the words “falling short” dont seem to cover it. And to see if im not the only one to either have critique on the ship or her character [or even actually change ships] Also i apologize for how much ive said “IDK” i just..... I DONT KNOW 

[a-redqueenofthewolves-love]

Things GRRM said, not us. Let’s get into it because I got questions.

Let’s start.

First I want to share my favorite Jon**ys comment.

Me: Grrm said in an interview on westeros.org that D@*y is fire to the WW’s ice not to Jon. Here’s the receipt, http://asoiaf.westeros.org/index.php?/topic/142632-grrm-talks-about-what-it-means-title-ice-and-fire/

Jon***ys fan: Who fucking cares what Grrm says, is he writing this show? No It’s D&D and that’s not what they’re doing.

What an interesting couple of weeks! Ok moving on...

I understand that J@ner*s coming together to save the world from impending death is a popular and widely excepted theory. We’d be delusional and dumb not to see that. 

But...

During an interview GRRM was asked,

You know the ending won’t please everyone, don’t you?

“Of course I will disappoint some of my fans because they are making theories about who will sit on the iron throne: who would live, who would die...and they even imagine romantic pairings. But I have already experienced that phenomenon with Feast for Crows and again with Dance with Dragons, and repeating the words of Rick Nelson: You can’t please anyone, so you’ve got to please yourself”. So I will write the last two books as good as I am capable of and I think the great majority of my readers would be happy with it. Trying to please everyone is a horrible mistake; I don’t say you should annoy your readers but art isn’t a democracy and should never be a democracy. It’s my story and those people who get annoyed should go out and write their own stories; the stories they want to read.” - GRRM

He said it not us.

I see so many nasty comments from D**y and Jo**rys fans saying that Grrm planned Jo**rys for years and that it was inevitable. They often snarl at us saying, “it’s been foreshadowed in neon writing” and “ you’re delusional for expecting anything else”. 

Clearly! I mean, why read too much into things?

But...

“Yes, it was always my intention: to play with the readers expectations.” - GRRM

He said it not us.

I’ve also read nasty replies when some of us think D*&* is either going to die or fall from grace. 

For example:

Jon***ys/D@*y fan - Da*y has been built up way too much and has come too far. She is the main hero. They won’t kill her. That’s just delusional and stupid Jonsa fans who are jealous because Jo**rys is canon. - Reddit

But then...

“For me, that’s the essence of storytelling and for this reason I want my readers to turn pages with increasing fever: to know what happens next. There are a lot of expectations, mainly in the fantasy genre, which you have the hero and he is the chosen one, and he is always protected by his destiny. I didn’t want it for my books.” - GRRM

(Techinically D**y is the only character who has had an epic, badass, triumph every season. Maybe it’s her time to fall. Just a thought...)

because...

“The moment the reader begins to believe that a character is protected by the magical cloak of authorial immunity, tension goes out the window.” - GRRM

He said it not us.

Finally... 

J@n**ys fans lose their shit when some of us talk about Dance of the Dragons 2.0.

“They’re in love. They won’t fight that’s illogical. There is no time left for them to fight. They will get married and fight the great war together. Why would Jon betray her that’s just retarded! She has a good heart and he knows that, Davos confirmed that. As for the incest, I doubt it will be that big of a deal, Targaryen's have been doing it for years it won’t matter, anyone who thinks otherwise is just a delusional Jonsa shipper!” - YouTube  

but then...                                                                                    

“There are people who read and want to believe In a world where the good guys win and the bad guys lose, and at the end they live happily ever after. That’s not the kind of fiction I write.” - GRRM

but especially this...

Hero vs Hero (Achilles vs Hector)

“I have always been fascinated with the idea, the villain is the hero on the other side. The great fight in Illiad between Achilles and Hector is in some ways my model more so than fights between a hero and villain” - GRRM

He said it not us.

Forgive me, can someone well versed in literature, themes, plots, and hero journeys, explain to me how the above quote would support the current direction of the show’s climatic approach for next season? I mean D**y and Jon are the main heroes right? And the whole point to the series is their relationship (duh!). So then how does the above statement come into play while the two main heroes budding romance is taking center stage? Also, how does a marriage and baby factor into  a bitter-sweet, non happily ever after ending?                                                                                           

Explain it to me carefully so I understand. 

Extra shit.

I’m just going to link drop for some interesting reads ...

Untangling the Meereenese Knot (Grrm approved)

D**y’s character arc.

https://meereeneseblot.wordpress.com/essays/

Also, it is highly suspected that this Reddit dude came close to predicting the end of Game of Thrones. 

It touches on D@*y being the villain in Jon’s story.

https://www.reddit.com/r/asoiaf/comments/23p48r/the_true_nature_and_purpose_of_the_others_and_the/

Oh...bonus for Sansa fans. There is a thread on westeros.org where a fan got to attend a dinner with Grrm. (They personally spoke with Grrm)

Grrm pretty much confirmed that Sansa has been included with the original five when he was asked about the original outline. So she’s most likely suspected to survive the series. You’re welcome. 

[dcbicki]

S O M E W H E R E   I N   T H E   W I N T E R   W O O D S | Chapter Nine

Red Riding Hood AU: Lost on her way to her grandmother’s cabin in the winter woods after running away from home, beautiful young Sansa thinks she’s run into trouble when she crosses a white wolf in the forest. Instead of harming her, the animal guides her to his master, a handsome warrior named Jon who lives in solitude and clothes himself in black.

After much persuasion, he begrudgingly agrees to take her to her granny’s, so long as she never bother him again and promises to keep the local townspeople from hunting after his wolf. But snows fall heavily on the mountains as days go by and evil lurks behind frozen trees, making this no easy feat.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

READ BELOW | AO3

By the time she wakes, the fire has put itself out, all embers and dust. The room is filled with a heavy smell of smoke, the darkness of the night sky peering in through the window.

She doesn't know how they long they slept for, doesn't want to think of the advantage Ramsay could now have on them. What if he's close, nearby? What if he's waiting?

It's a dreadful thought, terrifying really - one she feels the chill of throughout her whole body, shivers up her arms as she pulls the cloak tighter. Jon is warmer now, thankfully more so than he had been before. His skin is rosier, still pale, but at least his complexion has returned back to its usual shade of snow white.

His backside is bare though, and she assumes he's tossed and turned in his sleep because he's on his side, one arm beneath his head, the other slung out as though to reach for her, cradle her.

Sansa sits then, clutching the makeshift blanket, curling her legs up beneath her. Her body is sore, tired, but not as plainly weak as it had been before. She would like to think she feels different, changed; but that would be a lie.

She is no different, not really, the only change being that she has now felt the true touch of a man, felt the promise of love and devotion. He could be lying, though. He could have cheated her, played another round of their game just once more, without her knowledge.

She wants to trust him, likes to think that she does. But he's a loner, and lonely, and perhaps she has given in too easily. Perhaps she has just ruined herself, soiled her name and body and soul because she wanted him.

She cannot let him have her again, this much she knows. She'd gotten what she wanted, what she felt she needed, and she guesses his cries had been those of relief, answered longing, too. Perhaps they played each other, after all.

Oh, well. If he leaves now, she will have to make peace with that fact.

She doesn't know why she doubts him, doubts his loyalty and word, but maybe it's the softer medicine to swallow, the one that won't scrape at her throat or burn her insides inside-out.

Maybe this way she won't be left hurting, alone.

"Are you going to keep staring at my backside all day?"

She snaps her attention back to Jon's face then, eyes trailing over the arch of his lower back, the hard muscles of his shoulders.

"Sorry." Her face flushes, much to her own discontent. Sansa curls her lips, one corner turning upward, "It's such a pretty bottom." She tilts her head, smiles.

She teases him, pokes at his nose with one finger, distracts herself before she can ponder anything more.

Jon can only frown, but there's the smallest chuckle that escapes past his lips anyway, "Thank you." It's almost a question.

"We have to leave soon."

"Where will we go?"

"Home."

She does not know where he means, which home he could be referring to. Her own, or his? The home she knows, has grown up in with her family? Or the one she would like to make for herself by his side, the one she would now like to call her own?

"Wouldn't it be safer to stay here?" It's stupid, she knows.

She lies back down at that, perched up on her elbow, cloak drawn up to cover her breasts, hair askew. Her eyes close, his hand pulling her closer, bringing her into his front, "I can't imagine anybody discovering us here."

"If your intended hasn't already... One day, somebody will." Jon informs her, "Your brother, your father. We aren't in the unknown, little wolf."

He isn't wrong, but she would still rather like to believe this daydream could become her reality. She would like to believe they could stay here, live here, die here of their own will, of old age.

"I want to go home."

She nods, flicks ice blue eyes open to stare him down, challenge him as though he has opposed her. He complies, and she isn't surprised in the slightest. Perhaps he does just want to guarantee her safety. Perhaps she never misjudged him. Perhaps the misjudgement had just been her own excuse, an answer to her woes.

"You'll make it home."

And I will go home, and I will be left just as I was before. Only I will be the girl unwed, bedded, wrecked. I will be the village harlot. I will be the wreckage, and you the flood.

"Ramsay will still want me."

He always has, probably always will. He won't care if she is willingly scathed, used. He will just make her his own anyhow. He will always want those who disobey him, oppose him; whether it be their head served on a platter or their freedom ripped from beneath them.

"And you will still refuse him."

"I can't imagine a time I won't loathe him." She tells him, lets him cup her chin, tilt her head, run his thumb along her bottom lip, "I can't imagine wanting him when I've had you."

"Sansa."

She makes to roll over him then, tossing one leg over his waist, hands on his abdomen, low. "Yes?" It's foolish. She shouldn't. She can't.

"Stop."

She should.

"Why?" She pinches the taunt skin of his belly, carefully avoiding his modest wounds, "Give me one reason."

"Because we don't have time."

"What if we never have time again?" She doesn't want to whine, to beg. But she liked it, and loved him, and would eagerly go for more even if what it means is still unclear to her.

He sits then, hands firmly on her waist, watching her slide down his lap until she rests back on her calves. "Then I guess our story is to be left without an ending."

There will always be an ending, be it wonderful or tragic, or a bittersweet combination of the two. There will be always be an ending, whether we choose it or not.

"You do riddle a lot." She points out, soft brows knitting, her face a pretty picture of ennui. "You're a riddler. A nice yet harsh riddler."

It isn't a jab, nor a jest.

"Would you like me to speak clearly?" He asks, runs one hand up her thigh as she bends her knee with a nod of her head, brings him closer, forces him to lean into her. "I would like to have you."

"Properly?"

Perhaps she doubted him for no reason at all.

"Any and every which way possible."

"Naked?" She smiles, grabs his hands, flips his palms over as she goes to stand, linking her fingers through his own, "In the flesh? All day?"

"If only the Gods were so generous." He kisses the crook of her elbow, rises onto his knees when she stands proudly, all tussled long hair and crimson cape. "If only I were so deserving."

"I believe this venture of ours has made you worthy of me." Sansa offers, cannot resist grabbing the sides of his face, pulling him up, forcing him to stand. He's scolding and cold at once - his face hot, his arms near freezing. "I believe I should myself lucky to have been saved by you."

"I haven't saved you, Sansa." He informs her with a dip of his brows, brooding and black, "I only want to protect you."

"Well, I don't need your protection." She swallows a breath, lets his hands fall, "I only ask for your word that you will take me home."

Perhaps she has misjudged her own feelings, played herself.

"I promised, didn't I?"

She nods, spins around until her back is turned. "Yes."

She leaves him to retrieve her clothes from the floor in the other room, slipping her dresses and garments over her head, pulling her socks and pants up. The bust of her dress is torn though, so she has to add one of her granny's simple slips beneath it.

"Are you mad?" He is dressing, too; this boy with the black hair and the white skin, this man with the voice of a fallen angel, the spirit of a demon ascended from below.

"No." She stuffs one leg in her boot, copies with the other, huffs, "I am... eager to leave this all behind."

Once I return home, I will ask Father for the right to marry you, love you. Once you return me home, you will ask Father for the right to marry me, love me. Once we return home, we will never leave.

"Eager to leave me already?"

"Eager to pretend I can."

Jon does not reply, but he helps her clothe, already having collected himself and his belongings.

They steal old food from the kitchen before they leave, and she shoves rolls of hard baked bread in her basket. It would be easier if she left it, went without. But if she has made it this far, then surely she can make it home with her favourite pannier.

They leave when the sun is rising, an amber glow on the pastel sky. The wind blusters, cuts, and she is grateful for her gloves, for her layers upon layers of dress.

She wants to think Jon has recovered, has regained his strength. But, in truth, she doubts he is well, that he is healed. He was wounded, and she had only just about patched over his fresh scars. How could he be healthy so soon?

"We should be home by morning."

A day's trek if they do not delay, stop. A day's trek and she will be returned, altered just in the slightest.

It will all have been for nothing, she thinks, pauses when she turns to sneak a look at Jon.

She wants him, wants him, wants to live with him. She would like to believe he wants the same things she does, wants to share her company for the rest of his life, too.

But he is a loner, and he is lonely, and happy that way. It would seem that way, at least.

'How could I leave you when I am in love with you?'

Perhaps he does share her dream, after all.

Perhaps she should stop doubting him, let him have her, protect her.

Perhaps she should believe him to be her best chance.

-

It's only when she's reaching into the basket for something to eat that she ponders Ghost's absence. The wolf has not been seen for some hours now, half a day at the very least. They've been gone for hours, too, now, walking miles to find their way back.

Jon says Ghost is fine, probably off hunting or chasing deer. He doesn't doubt his pet's whereabouts for one moment, doesn't think to question his absence.

But Sansa is not so easily settled. "What if he was caught?"

One wolf is stronger than one hound, but it is weaker than several. One wolf is stronger than one man, but it is weaker than one wielding a crossbow.

"He'll come back soon."

As he says this, there's a crunching, a snap, of some twigs behind them. It's quick, and the sound is so quiet that Sansa wonders how she ever even heard it at all.

She half-expects Ghost to come pandering right out of the woods, right on queue, in sync with his master's words. She half-expects a fox, a deer, a hound to come running out of the bushes.

None of this happens, though.

Nothing happens until several moments later, when she hears shouting and a loud bang.

Jon's hand wraps around her wrist, all icy leather and numb knuckles, before she can turn to face the scene, discover the source of those sounds. He pulls her forward, drags her to keep up with his own pace.

"Keep your mouth shut."

It's a command, an order, and only an utter fool would disobey.

It isn't Ghost that trails behind them, nor is it a fox or a deer.

There is one man - no, two men - and one dog at their heels. Dressed in black, with crimson red crosses adorning the sleeves of their tunics; the sign of the enemy.

Sansa can only catch a single fleeting look at them, from over her shoulder, through the curtain of her hair.

The redness of her cape had caught their attention, she assumes. It is so bright, so imposing that it has to have been their giveaway. She should have changed into something else, discarded it in favour of something darker, colder, discreet.

Only a fool would sport the colour of death as they were being hunted. Only a fool would think to bring food and wine, cloth and needles. Only a fool would think to prioritise hunger over true survival, thirst over life. Only a fool would make the decisions she has made.

She is nothing but a foolish young woman, a stupid little girl. She is anything but strong, anything but wise. She is stupid, stupid and small. There is nothing grown about her.

How could she have thought herself matured when, in truth, she has been nothing but spoilt, helped? How could she think herself independent when she has never fended for herself, always relief upon a man, and a stranger one at that, to save her, protect her? How dare she call herself a woman when she is nothing but a scared little girl with nothing to lose and everything to give?

How dare she expect Jon to save her when she has never proven that she would do the same for him?

She knows the men are still following, still at their heels, still waiting for their inevitable fall.

They have swords, undoubtedly, and she knows they won't harm her (too much) because Ramsay wants her. And Ramsay will only harm her when he has her, in spirit and in law.

Perhaps she could prove herself, after all.

"Jon."

The man doesn't seem to pay her much mind, save for the hand clutching so tightly onto her arm, the occasional look back to make sure she is still there. The snow crunches with every step he takes, his steps louder than hers, the heaviness of his body tugging her along with only mild effort.

"Jon, stop."

"What?" He bites, and his tone is not nice, sweet. It isn't the cold, either.

"Stop."

She pulls at his hold, forces him to loosen his grip. Her arm drops, and she immediately balls her fist at the loss, at the realisation of what she is doing.

He's facing her directly, his body leant in a way that tells her which direction he is set, prepared to run in. But she is stopped- completely, resolute.

"Go." She nods once, twice, barely blinks before repeating twice more, "Go."

She does not have to drag him into this. She does not have to put him in harm's way any longer. She can help him now, she can save him now.

"Jon!"

"You're insane."

She can hear shouting, laughing, and the heavy footprints of the hounds being left in the thick snow that fell overnight. The blueing flakes still falling down on them are her one solace, make this picture prettier than it is.

"Perhaps."

She wants to grab at him, hold onto him, fall into his arms and close her eyes until death comes to collect her.

She wants to touch him, kiss him, have him hold her for just one second so she can pretend this isn't happening.

"He won't hurt me."

Not right away. Not now. Not here. Not yet.

"You're stupid." He tells her, as though she doesn't already know this, as though she is so slow that she's still unaware of her own idiocy.

He grabs her then, one arm wrapping around her waist before she can even reply, one hand pressing firmly into the low of her back to push, shove her forward. She would refuse, but he's stronger, and he is determined. He's more determined to keep her alive than she is ready to die for his cause.

"Run."

Maybe he doesn't want saving, after all. Maybe he doesn't want protecting.

Jon does not let go of her, forever keeping one part of himself touching one part of herself, forever making sure she is still there, at his side, no more than a foot away from him.

"He will kill you."

"I made my peace with death long ago, Sansa. Long before you came along."

He slows, forces her to slow, catches her when she almost falls, tripping over a overgrown tree branch. Her boots have become worn, lightly shredding at the front when she has ran, tried to run, failed to keep up.

There is only so long they can hide here, crouched and huddled behind a thick oak tree, letting few fallen leaves float in the breeze until they land on the ground below them, shrivelling up in the cold air, coated in white dust.

There is only so long they can stay like this.

"Run south. Only south."

He's close to her, his breath so heavy and strong on her face, the curled hairs dangling over his forehead tickling her own skin. She wants to curl them, run her fingers through them. Terribly.

"To your cabin?" She will run, and hide, but only if he promises to join her.

"To your home."

The village is south, and his cabin is east. If only he would let her-

There's a growl, louder than that of a hound, not too far in the distance, and Sansa wills herself to believe that Ghost has returned to lend his master a hand, hopes that the weak howl had been that of a dying bastardly dog.

Jon pulls at the hood of her cloak then, drawing the strings tighter. He wraps a thick, burnt piece of leather she had plucked from her Granny's around her wrist, ties it to the basket of ale and wool.

"South."

She knows he surely cannot handle two of Ramsay's men. It isn't possible. He is weaker still, still battered and bruised and partially broken. But if he has Ghost, and if Ghost has already taken care of the hounds, then-

"Yes."

She wants to kiss him, wants to feel the touch of his lips one more time, one last time. But it would take too long, for she would fall and want to continue falling until she hit the surface of the the bottom of his heart.

If he has Ghost, he will be fine. And she can run. She can run, and hide, and she will freeze if she has to. She will go home, and she will tell someone, anyone, of what has happened. And they'll lead a party, and they'll help Jon, and she will-

"Go."

She hurries away then, smoothing a hand down his face once more, almost cradling his jaw like that of an innocent child. She wouldn't have let go if it weren't for the hand he bats her away with, with the hand that softly grabs her wrist and pushes, urges her to flee.

There is nothing innocent about him, though one may be fooled by his handsomely pretty features. One would be forgiven for thinking him unscathed, whole. One would be forgiven for thinking him a hero.

It hurts, to walk away, to run when she knows he is facing impending death.

Something inside of her aches at the thought, at the idea of Jon sacrificing his own freedom to guarantee her own.

He never asked to be her saviour, never sought after being her protector.

He could have denied her, refused her request and booted her from his cabin. But he is kinder than he lets on - or tries to pretend he can, at least - and he is softer than many other men she could have happened upon.

He never asked to be her hero, her guardian. He only wanted his peace, his freedom and isolation from the community.

And so, if he happens to survive, she will sacrifice her own desires, wants. She will grant him solitude, silent amnesty. She will demand that the villagers cease all hunting of he and his wolf. She will demand that the villagers leave him be. She will demand that they leave Ghost be.

If he survives, she will force herself to abandon him, if that is still what he truly wants, within his heart of hearts. She will forget him, will herself to pretend he is nothing more than a dream.

"Gods."

Her breath is heavy, panting, for she is not sure of how long she has been running, fleeing the hilltop.

There had been echoes of fighting men behind her at first, when she had left Jon alone at the tree. She had heard them sparring, shouting, coming to blows via swords and fists.

But she hadn't heard Ghost there, hadn't heard the direwolf growl, tearing a man from limb to limb.

That was some time ago though. The sky has darkened, the snowfall is heavier now, all thick flakes, refusing to melt on her tongue or hand. She is sure her feet are near purple, halfway frozen by now. But the adrenaline as well as her outright refusal to stop running, or rather hurrying, has stopped her from feeling the pain of the blistering cold.

Her throat is dry now, her knees boney and weakening. She looks over her shoulder every other moment or so, counts to fifty between peeks.

She is only a few miles or so from the village, surely. The basket on her arm is still swinging, the thick strap digging into her arm, most likely leaving its mark in her flesh.

She wants to stop, wants to drink, to rest. But there is no time for that, and she is almost-

"Ah, my love."

Her skin turns to ice then, shivers of sheer terror running up her arms and down her legs, encasing her entire body is a coat of fright.

"I've been looking for you."

If she could scream, she would. If only her voice would let her, if only her throat were clearer. If she could wail, she would do so until he slit her throat.

His eyes are darker than they had been when she last faced him, his hair sprinkled with snowflakes. His face is pale, but he bears more colour than she thinks Jon ever has. His cheekbones are prominent, his stance well rehearsed and his arms stretched behind his back, hands no doubt clasped, plotting.

"Aren't you going to greet me?" Ramsay smirks, takes one step closer, makes the distant village seem even farther away, impossible to reach.

If she ran, she could...

"Sansa."

"How did you find me?"

She would have thought him further north, buried deep in the woods looking for her. She would have thought him to be with his men, with his foot soldiers, his watchful aides. She would have thought him wiser than this, smarter.

Perhaps she misjudged his genius.

"It wasn't hard." He raises a brow, eyes her as though they are only catching up, trading news, "In fact, if it hadn't been for that friend of yours, we never would have found you."

She daren't speak his name, give him away. If Ramsay knows nothing of him, really, then she will not share. Jon, she thinks, breathing out.m

Ramsay lowers his head, tilts it down with a calculating smile she has never had the displeasure of seeing. He shrugs, keeping his shoulders raised, "His precious wolf was easy enough to hunt down."

Ghost.

Sansa's eyes close, foolishly, and she clutches onto the basket in her hands, knuckles turning an ivory white under her gloves. Her teeth grit, her lips drawn thin.

Gods, what have they done to him?

"Are you not happy to see me, Sansa?" He asks, and she can hear him move closer, hear his footprints carve into the thick blanket of snow, leaving his mark.

She doesn't reply, instead opening her eyes to star down at the ground, letting the redness of her cape shelter her face. She takes a deep breath, holds it in when his hand reaches for her face, bare and frozen.

Jon.

Ghost.

"Your family misses you terribly, my love." He tells her, strokes his index finger down her cheekbone to her jawline, cups her face in one hand.

She goes to turn her head, face the clearing to her right, but he tightens his grip, holds her steady. She could shove him, force him down. He has no weapon, that she can see. He has no protection, that she can see.

"I imagine they do."

His smile widens at her reply, finally, "As do I."

He runs the pad of his thumb over her mouth, smooth, pulls her lower lip out between his fingers. He tugs, watches her face flush, turn numb.

"Pretty little mouth." Ramsay says, focusing solely on her lips, "I do wonder what you taste like."

Jon.

"He isn't coming," He informs her then, taking in her expression, "Your little wolf friend. My man have taken care of him."

"How do you know?"

"Because they always take care of my business." His hand slips from her face, and he plucks a finger into the basket on her arm, "Have you brought me baked goods, my love?" It's sickening, that name, his face. "Come, we can enjoy them once we are home."

He goes to pull at her arm then, wrapping his palm around her elbow. It isn't soft, gentle, not is it as rough she expects.

Only hours ago, she agreed to this, resigned herself to submit to him. Only hours ago, she had lead herself to believe that perhaps this was her only hope.

But, now, in his presence, alone... She would rather slit her wrists and bleed out onto freshly fallen snow than go anywhere with him. She would rather die than become his toy, his trophy. She would rather die than let him win without even some semblance of defeat, too.

"Let go of me."

His eyes roll, and she can tell he grows impatient every time she pulls her arm back, stands her ground.

The howling of the trees fills the silence he leaves, the crunching of snow behind him, careful and calm, escaping him.

"You're too weak to fight me, Sansa." He argues, digs his fingers into her arm, but she only feels half the sensation due to her layers of dress. Her sleeves are long, thick.

He presses harder then, as though he knows she feels nothing. "Look at you, you're shivering cold. You must be sick." It would be caring were he not so naturally cruel. "You can't possible think you can refuse me, like this."

"Let go of my arm."

"Sansa," He sighs, leans into her but lets go of her, "You are going to be my wife. Let me take care of you."

"As you took care of Jeyne?"

"That girl has a mind of her own." He holds his hands up, unabashedly, "Nobody can help someone who creates such elaborate stories."

"She never created anything." Her brows knit, and she can feel her throat tightening, her eyes tiring, so she blinks, fights back against the fatigue, "You set your dogs loose after her."

"But it happened so long ago now, Sansa." He adds, "Let us go home, and we can clear up all of this mess."

Sansa shrugs his hand off when he reaches for her again, trying to touch her shoulder. His face changes at that, turns from annoyance to anger, and she can tell his impatience is reaching boiling level.

"I'm not going with you." She informs him, gazes off behind him, watches as white fur masquerades as snow. Her lip twitches, her mouth curling upward just the slightest, "I'm never going anywhere with you."

"Fine then." He grunts, takes two steps back, resumes his position with his hands behind his back. "If you want to stay here, and wait for my men to find you, well then have your way. I'm sure they will be more than satisfied to teach you some obedience. They're lonely men, Sansa. They haven't felt the touch of a woman in so long."

He smiles, wicked, "Though I'm sure you must have learnt a thing or two on your travels. Maybe you could show them what your dead little hunter friend taught you. You do have a lovely mouth; would be a shame to let it go to waste, don't you think?"

Refusing to give in to his comments, she retains her arms by her sides, keeps ice blue eyes focused on the frozen field behind him. The rosebushes are covered in snow ash, the pink flowers now as pastel as her flushed complexion. But the snow, the snow is as white as Ghost's fur, and the redness of his eyes cannot go unnoticed.

His eyes match her cloak, the biting colour of death contrasting against the purity of Ramsay's unknown backdrop.

If only he knew...

"If I'm going to die, let it happen while there is still some of me left."

You can have my body, but not my soul. You will never have me.

Ghost does not growl, does not make a sound, and his prints are lighter than Sansa has ever heard them. He is discreet, calm, a true ghost remaining out of sight, lingering.

But she sees him, and she knows that the wolf can sense her fear, her fright. He approaches on slow paws, head lowered.

If only Ramsay knew...

"Come, now. There is nothing here for you." The man reasons, waves a hand around with the slightest of laughs, disbelieving, "You can't run, you can't go back to that cabin. He isn't there, Sansa. He's gone. You have no out. You have no chance."

"I have one."

"Oh, and what is that?" He frowns, lets his truest colours show, his face the picture of evil itself, "Are you going to throw a snowball at me? Are you going to shoo me away with the flick of your little basket? You're stupid. You're just like your grandmother. She was weak, too. Couldn't fend me off." He gloats, "You're stupid, and you're alone, and you are helpless. You're nothing."

"Perhaps I am nothing," she stares at him, refuses to admit defeat, refuses to turn over her last card, "but then I still have my Ghost."

"Your ghost."

He chuckles, the kind of laugh that makes her skin crawl, makes every inch of her skin set itself aflame to burn all memory of his touch.

She watches the ever-present animal behind him, wonders how and when he first appeared, tracked her own. Maybe he had followed her, maybe he had abandoned Jon... Or maybe he had never been with Jon in the first place.

Maybe Ghost is all she has left now.

Maybe these Magic Woods have taken something from her, and gifted her something else in return.

Maybe the one she sought, the one she was always supposed to be find, had been the wolf himself.

My wolf. My beast of a man. My wolf of a man.

Perhaps Jon had been a wolf all along.

She nods her head once, twice, quickly, never taking her eyes from the beast's face, never letting her gaze drift. He watches her, the great direwolf with the pelt of Snow and the Stark scarlet wide eyes of her cape.

"Aye," she smiles, "My Ghost."

The wolf growls, makes a run for Ramsay's gut before she can give it another thought, before she can give him the signal to stop.

The sharpness of his teeth scrape, dig into the man's flesh, ripping into his side, tearing his skin to tatters. He grunts, groans, the beast's huskiness echoing alongside Ramsay's protests, screams of surrender.

The sound of torn leather has Sansa enraptured, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene. She is sure there are flecks of blood on her face, clothes and basket. She knows she should move, run, flee before anybody hears him and finds them.

But her body betrays her, and witnessing such a bloody death has never seemed to inviting. She would clap had she enough energy. She would smile had her face not partially frozen in the cold.

Her lips crack, and her nods reddens, and she can feel the bite of the cool air sting at her cheeks, as though someone is flicking their finger against her skin.

She burns, but she is made of solid ice. She is a mountain of cold embers, an iceberg of frozen ash.

He shouts, shrieks, screams like a little girl. He gives up fairly quickly, though, his body weakening.

He falls silent when Ghost has dug into his chest, ribs pulled apart, heart ripped from its cage.

It finishes before Sansa would like, Ghost lying down with his paws outstretched, mouth soaking red.

The crystal whiteness of his fur is ruined, drenched in blood and guts, an obvious warning sign of what he can do.

"Ghost."

The wolf rears its head to face her, watching as her blank expression turns to gratitude. He approaches then, standing up on four paws, moving to her side.

He sniffs at her side, muzzle against her hip, and she lets him rub remnants of her nightmare's stomach along the side of her cloak, staining the vibrant colour. He grunts into her side, and she pats his head, strokes the hard fur that hasn't been marred by ruby red blood.

"My wolf."

Jon.

"You don't have to worry anymore, Mother."

She came home some time ago, all battered and bruised, worn and weak. Her long limbs aching, and heart heavy.

Mother had shouted, screamed, pleaded to know where she had been.

Sansa had refused to speak, though. Ghost had left her side once they reached the edge of the village, and he had hurried off like the hunted prey of a hungry man.

Alone, she had made her way home, ignoring the stares and calls of villagers, bystanders that shouted out for her, face expressionless. The witch was nowhere to be seen, the drinking hole only filled with regular drunken men and whores.

The door to her home had been left open, and Sansa had pandered through without much of a thought. She dropped her basket, let the contents clash and collide inside.

Her Father had looked up from his seat, tears rising to his eyes once he caught sight of her, his eldest daughter returned. It's the most emotion she has seen from him in winters.

Arya had scolded her, questioned her to no answer; her little brothers too little to understand, too happy to have her home.

But Mother, her mother had slapped her, called her every name under the sun until Sansa had thrown herself down onto the floor, crumpled up into a heaping pile of tears and sobs, unable to hold it in any longer.

Back haunched, she leant her elbows on her knees, let the redness of her cape and hair surround her face. She hiccuped, shoved when someone tried to touch her, refuses to move from the sanctity of the doorway.

She doesn't know how long she spent there, in that position, hugging herself so tight she could almost feel her bones shift, crush. Eventually, her cries had subsided, her tears drying, staining her rose face with streaks of white.

"What do you mean?"

Rising from the floor, she'd moved to her room, lying down on the bed despite her ruined dress, despite her bloodied clothes.

Her mother came in shortly after, plucked dirtied boots from off of her feet, heated up the room with a small fire in the corner. Catelyn had attempted to remove the cloak off of her daughter, but had only been met with protests and groans in response.

Abandoning all hope to have Sansa bathe and change, she had thrown fur upon fur over the girl, sheltering her in from the cold.

It's nighttime now, Sansa notes, gazing out from the window, eyes peering out through her hair, over the scoop of her head. She snuggles tighter into the material, swallows a breath.

"Ramsay's gone." She blinks, stares straight ahead at the front door, squints to peer through the small cracks, "And he isn't going to come back."

"Sansa." The tone of her mother's voice shows concern, but her face is the picture of apology.

If she had known...

Jon.

"Grandmother," She starts, shoots her father the smallest of looks, closing her eyes after only a second, "She's gone, too."

It doesn't surprise her family, really. The woman was elderly, alone.

They don't ask, inquire; they just let her rest and wait for her to speak.

It's known that men should never travel along into the woods. Nobody dared.

Arya brings her a flask of water sometime later, and she sits at the bottom of the bed, hands in her lap.

"Did you kill him?"

She stares straight ahead, avoids Sansa's gaze, but the redhead can still spot the trace of a smile dancing along her little sister's lips.

"No." She offers, "But I let him die."

Turning to face her, Arya reaches a hand out, rests it on her sister's thigh, surprisingly comforting, "I'm glad you're home."

"Thank you."

"And I'm glad he isn't."

Sansa tries a smile, the corner of her mouth turning up just the slightest bit, and she knits her brows, slightly amused.

"What was it like?" Arya pries, leans closer, voice lowered, "In the Winter Woods? Father says it's dangerous, that it's a miracle you returned alive."

"It's... odd."

"Odd?" The younger girl frowns, chewing at her bottom lip, "Odd how?"

Before Sansa can reply, there's a loud pounding at the door, the old wood rattling, creaking at the sensation.

Catelyn has jumped up from her place at the dining table, stirring her pot of freshly cooked vegetables. She wipes her hands, takes a breath as she pulls the door open.

"Cat." The man greets, and Sansa recognises him as one of the young smiths from the town, Gendry. His brown hair is covered by a hat, his hands rubbing together, as though to keep warm, "Sorry to bother you this late, I... I know-"

"What is it?"

He doesn't pause, only raises his brows and peers into the family's home, "Is your daughter well enough to come outside, Cat?"

"Sansa?"

"Aye." He nods, shoots the redhead a small smile when he catches sight of her. "We're in need of her help, you see." He shrugs one shoulder, attempts a smile.

Catelyn sighs, pressing one hand on the doorframe, "She has only just picked herself up off of the floor and agreed to rest." She tells him, eyes warning, "She doesn't need to be helping you with whatever it is-"

"What is it?" Arya pipes up, hopping up from the end of the bed, folding her arms over her chest, "I can help."

Sansa watches, slowly rising to sit up in the bed, long fingers prying at the sides of her cloak. She pulls at the strings, draws it tighter.

"That's very kind of you, miss." He smiles down at Arya, "But I'm afraid only your sister can help us with this. You see, there's a man-"

"A man?"

"Aye." Gendry nods, scrunching his nose, "The young Mormont girl found him earlier tonight, just at the edge of the woods."

"Was it not Ramsay?"

Sansa's face drains of all colour then, and she pries the furs from off of her body, forcing them to the bottom of the bed.

"It can't be."

She slips on her boots, pulls her hood up with such an ease, all energy suddenly returned to her body.

Her hearts thumps beneath her chest, her blood flowing as fast as a current.

"Sansa."

She's already in the doorway then, and she can only give her mother one last look before she pushes past Gendry, Arya trailing at her feet.

Catelyn calls out to them from behind, watching as her daughter run after the young man who has sprinted ahead to lead the way.

They don't turn around, Sansa following the man with desperation, Arya at her heels in curiosity.

The younger girl overtakes them, shoving her way through the entrance to the pub when the door is pulled open by two tall men, barkeeps.

She stops at the foot of a table, emptied of punters, cleared of all cups and silverware.

Sansa can only catch her breath when she's finally inside, arms weak at her sides, chest heavy. Her heart won't still, the possibility of her dream being a reality perhaps a little too real, too cruel to be untrue.

If he's alive, then...

"Do you know him?"

Arya asks, thick brows fussing as she stares down at the man on the table. She wipes her finger over his forehead, pushing curled black locks from his face.

He is pale, cheeks rosy, but his chest is blue and yellow, battered and bloodied, and littered with old bruises. They've torn his shirt from his torso, wrapped bandages around his wounds. His brown eyes are closed, but she knows they would be darker if only he opened them. He lies unconscious, in some long sleep she wants so badly to wake him from. His breaths are laboured, raspy, and his face is longer and harder than she has ever seen it, broodier.

He is still unhealed, unhealthy. He is still weak, still unwell.

But, despite all of this - despite his cuts and scrapes and the dried blood that stains his face and neck, despite the puncture wound in his side, soaking the bandage with a thick, clotting layer of fresh blood - he is still here, and he is still alive.

He is breathing, and he survived.

"Jon."

[caseaiken]

A Song of Rice and (Cooking) Fire

A peripheral detail struck me while watching Game of Thrones last night. It has to do with George RR Martin’s attention to detail on certain things. It leads me to think we’re about to deal with a plot thread that I am not sure if I really want to see but could be very satisfying if done well. The following deals with a lot of the touched on details of the first four episodes of the new season, so more after the break...

OK. Now that we’re cool with spoilers:

THAT WAS A CRAZY DRAGON FIGHT, RIGHT?

Quite. 

That battle accomplished a few things for “Team Blood and Fire”. We (the audience) got to see what it looks like to the average Westerosi when they’re attacked by a horde of Dothraki (a foreign boogeyman) and a huge dragon (a spectre of their past), so we can really see the terror and the paradigm shift that these forces bring with them. Last week, we saw the Unsullied’s first battle with the Lannister forces, but they were far more conventional and thus susceptible to decoy tactics and stratagems by the most experienced military figures still in play. However, as Tywinn Lannister said in season 2, “Aegon Targaryen changed the rules.” Jaime Lannister can definitely pull off a “W” against a strictly regimented traditional land force with only a slight numerical advantage over him, but the forces he encounters in this episode are unlike anything he’s ever experienced. Also, did you notice how a lot of this looked like an inverted version of the battle at Hardhome? The fire version of an icy scene. Cool. The reveal of the “Scorpion” to Daenerys might even be considered a win, assuming the barbs weren’t poisoned (I mean, I think they were considering who made them, but we haven’t actually seen that yet), because the knowledge that those weapons existed really needed to be kept secret until they could score a kill. Now, they know to plan accordingly. However, the biggest win for our  Mother of Dragons is that she destroyed a lot of gold and, I can’t stress this part enough, grain.

Earlier in the episode, Daenerys noted the plight of the cut-off Unsullied, who have forces but no resources and must march across the continent, beginning with the Reach which has been stripped of all its food by the Lannisters. Last week, Sansa started taking stock of the food supplies at the northern castles and lamented in this episode that they haven’t received more since. In the season premiere, the Hound was forced to confront a father and daughter that killed themselves because he had stripped them of their silver to buy food before the coming winter. Now, the Tyrells, who had ensured that the seven kingdoms had full bellies for generations, have been wiped out and the food taken from them has been set ablaze.  That food was meant for King’s Landing, which is preparing for a siege,  and we have seen King’s Landing suffer in more lush times already on this show when they’ve been cut off from supplies.  To make matters worse, the Lannisters big play to pay off their debts was nullified, so there’s no getting a loan to bring in more supplies from across the sea. We’ve also heard some very graphic details of what surviving a siege is like from Stannis Baratheon.

“Oh, my sweet summer child," Old Nan said quietly, "what do you know of fear? Fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hides its face for years at a time, and little children are born and live and die all in darkness while the direwolves grow gaunt and hungry, and the white walkers move through the woods”

I think we’re about to watch a lot of people pushed to the breaking points of starvation.

There’s a lot of food talk in the books. While I’ve been mostly a “Show Guy”, I’ve read a lot of the spin off material as well as other works by Martin and he loves going into the details about the foods people eat. I think we’re about to see the reverse of that now, as we see ing graphic detail what it’s like to be without food.  This, I think, is the most Martin-esque element we’ve gotten in this season.  So far, there’s been a lot less subtlety and a general fast forwarding of events as we try to cram everything in, but I think the starvation plotline is going to be big and will play out much the same when the books finally come out.

A recurring theme of George RR Martin’s in this series has been the human factor in a fantasy setting. We see this time and time again narratively, but it is so important to the work that it’s a central concept of even the theme song.  On an episode of “Song Exploder”, the composer discussed the use of alternating major and minor chords to illustrate broad fantasy tropes with interpersonal drama and politics.  This is a setting where an age of heroes led to giant walls and gravity defying castles and where the show opens with a king who can legitimately claim descent from the gods of sea and wind sits upon a throne made of swords forged by the breath of dragons. And it becomes easy to forget how big and wild this world is when you get caught up in political intrigue between manipulative eunuchs, drunken nobility, and pimps, but that’s the damn point.  The shining knight may not be salvation because sometimes people are pricks for really tiny reasons, and maybe now an alliance to save mankind will fall apart because the footman are too hungry.

This all makes me think of an episode of Crash Course that approached World War 2 from the perspective of food shortages instead of “Great Man History”.

I mean, Gamt of Thrones certainly has its share of “Great Man History” going for it, but there are also plenty of cracks. For every Aegon the Conquerer, there’s a Nymeria.  We learned quite a lot about Robert’s Rebellion last season, so we know honest Ned Stark’s famous sword fight didn’t go as he told it, and the “rape” of Lyanna Stark was probably very different from most accounts. Daenerys is subject to this too, since she cited her ancestors (a lesser Valyrian house who had the good fortune to escape the Doom of Valyria, by the way) holding power during a time of peace, while I could name THREE CIVIL WARS off the top of my head during that period. My point is that Martin likes to remind us that the history lesson version of events tends to be a highlights reel, usually omitting the toughest details.  Looking at the Dunk and Egg stories, we see a lot of the human motivations around the Blackfyre Rebellion, but these aren’t the stories people like to tell their kids. Well, George RR Martin is here to drag us kicking and screaming into a more fully realized fantasy world.

Ultimately, I think this is the key.  We have a banal thing, a fact of life, that is going to throw a wrench in our high fantasy concept show about a white wolf riding king and his dragon riding queen fighting ice zombies. The War of Five Kings started because Catelyn Stark jumped to conclusions and held Tyrion Lannister on trial, at which point pride and opportunity drove seven kingdoms into war.  Will we see the mankind rally when they are at their lowest? I think so.  That seems to be the story we’re getting.  It just means that we need to understand that we’re not going to see a sunrise until it’s been much darker. And this week’s episode we’re getting the setting sun.

P.S. As I wrote this, it occurred to me that the look of the episode supports my sunset metaphor.  The last battle is done to look very much like a western, with kind of an orange filter.  Randyll Tarly mentions that they need to move before sunset, because that’s when they’re most vulnerable. I wonder if that’s the metaphor for the whole season, with next season opening at it’s darkest and moving into daybreak at the very end.  The battle at East Watch teased at after the episode certainly looks like it’s set at dusk. I guess we’ll know to be on the lookout as the season closes, but I’ll bet the first scene of the next season premeire takes place at night.  I realize that is not a particularly novel realization, but I’m also just a layman who’s in no real practice for deeper analysis.