#and lyanna is just EMBARRASSED

[fromtheseventhhell]

Asoiaf tumblr is turning me into a Rhaegar's stan. I get it that he’s not perfect, but saying "all the characters who have a positive opinion on rhaegar are obviously biased, they didn't know him" is a very delusional take :/

It's getting stupid.

This is where I'm at. Disliking a character is fine, but the way people rewrite the story + characters to justify their hate is beyond annoying. And what's crazier is that their hate for him extends to characters connected to him so Dany, Jon, Lyanna, etc. end up being demonized as well. The fact that they can't just say "I hate Rhaegar" and move on is crazy, he's really living in their heads rent-free 😭

[flowerandblood]

A Winter Beauty (1)

[Aemond Targaryen x fem!Stark reader]

[warnings: kissing and fluff]

[description: Aemond and his family arrive at Winterfell for Rickon Stark's Name Day. There, Aemond meets his daughter, who arouses his desire. I changed some names and facts for the sake of the plot. Viserys is also slightly younger in this version.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next parts: Masterlist

_____

Viserys and his family have come to Winterfell to celebrate the Name Day of Rickon Stark, Lord of Winterfell. It was a nod to the north, a sign of respect for their loyalty and devotion to the crown for generations. Viserys decided that this visit, although for trivial reasons, would be of great political importance and would positively affect their image in this sometimes forgotten part of the country.

Neither Alicent nor his children had ever been to Winterfell before. Although his children were reluctant to leave Kings Landing, in the end they all went on this long journey. During their absence, the state was to be administered by Otto.

Aegon, Aemond and Helaena flew on their dragons. Neither of them wanted to be crammed in for more than a week of traveling in a cramped carriage or on horseback.

The king and queen were forced to take the land route. Viserys' condition deteriorated with his age, but despite Alicent's pleas, they did not turn back. Viserys knew it would be a huge slander for Winterfell, they must have been preparing for this visit for months.

When they finally arrived, the dragons made a great impression on the inhabitants, causing some to panic. The biggest was Vhagar's, landing in the great snowy wasteland far from the castle, so she posed no threat. She was visible from many meters.

When they entered Winterfell, already on horseback, the entire welcoming committee was waiting for them, including Lord Rickon Stark and his wife, Lady Lyanna Arryn. Lord Stark knelt before Viserys, as did all his family, paying him homage.

"My king. It's an honor." He said in a serious, calm tone. Viserys smiled gracefully, doing his best to hide the fatigue of his journey, and stretched out his hands to him, wanting to hug him like a brother. Lord Stark seemed embarrassed for a moment, but he got up from his knees and embraced the king, the crowd around started cheering.

After a short rest and changing clothes, everyone gathered in the great hall of the castle. In its center stood a large wooden table, arranged perpendicularly to the 6 other tables below, intended for other lords and less important guests. Lord Stark has prepared a lavish feast for the king with music and dancing.

Aemond was one of the last to enter the room, sitting on the edge of the table next to his sister, Helaena. Next to her sat Aegon, then Alicent and the king, next to him Lord Stark, his wife and their eldest son, Cregan. The seat next to Cregan was empty.

Although Aemond was initially discouraged by the expedition itself and the change of environment, he found Winterfell a gray but interesting place. The fields and forests filled with snow in the sun looked beautiful and clean, almost fairy-tale, at least compared to some streets of Kings Landing, where sewage simply flowed.

After a while, a girl came in from the other end of the room. Aemond saw her long, slightly wavy black hair out of the corner of his eye.

They weren't combed in any hairstyle, they were just thrown over her shoulders, which were bare because her dress seemed to be made so that it barely held on, creating a boat neckline that showed nothing more than she wanted. The dress was a dull soft blue that rustled as she walked. It accentuated her bright, glowing eyes. She was grinning at Cregan Stark, and Aemond thought, seeing her eyes, that she was his wife.

Indeed, she took a seat next to him. Cregan took her hand and kissed it, she laughed heartily at something he said. Lady Lyanna bent over her, questioning her with a frown - she obviously resented her being late. The girl explained something to her quickly, Cregan just laughed under his breath, and Lady Stark stepped back, smiling slightly herself. Apparently, her explanation did something.

Aemond looked away, deciding that it wasn't right to look at someone's wife like that. He exchanged a few words with Helaena, but looking at her he couldn't stop his eye from darting back to the girl sitting next to Cregan Stark.

She was talking to him lively, didn't seem to notice them at all, and didn't seem to care that the king and queen were sitting next to her. Her face was bright, warm and happy, she looked like it was the happiest day of her life.

They seemed to get along perfectly well. Aemond thought about Helaena's soon to marry Aegon, and his throat tightened. He genuinely felt sorry for her, but he couldn't help her.

Suddenly the music started. Cregan immediately extended his hand to the girl he was talking to, who gladly accepted it. They both got up and wanted to head downstairs to the dance floor, but Lord Stark's voice stopped them.

"Merciful king, I haven't had time to introduce my daughter to you yet." He said, pointing to the girl, who looked surprised at her father and became ashamed as if she suddenly realized who she was facing. "Y/N Stark."

The young Lady Stark bowed with dignity, closing her eyes. Viserys and Alicent looked at her kindly.

"What a winter beauty." Alicent said, sincerity in her voice. "I congratulate you, Lord Stark, on such a reason to be happy."

The girl blushed at her remark, pursed her lips in embarrassment. Only now could Aemond hear the sound of her voice.

"Thank you for those kind words, my queen." She spoke warmly, her voice lively, gentle and calm, full of energy. Aemond shivered for some reason. He felt his heart pounding as he looked at her. She, to his frustration, didn't turn a single glance in their direction. She merely turned to her brother and followed him down the few steps to dance.

Aemond wasn't used to situations like this. Usually, ladies, even if they feared him, knowing that he was a prince, paid him a lot of attention - which most often bothered him and which he avoided. His father planned for him to marry one of Borros Baratheon's daughters.

He had visited Storms End several times with his father, and recalled it as an ordeal. Each of his daughters was vying for his attention, but they were trying to pretend they weren't. They accidentally bumped into him during training or on walks while he was reading, so he would retreat to his chamber, tired and discouraged.

Nothing was official yet, but he knew that sooner or later he would have to choose one of them. He was furious with himself that his attention was drawn to a woman who didn't even give him a single look. He couldn't help but watch her dance, his fingers tapping gently on the table. They were talking about something with Cregan, self-absorbed, laughing. There was a slenderness and grace in their movements that he lacked in dancing.

Suddenly Cregan leaned over her and whispered something in her ear, and she turned to look at Aemond with puzzled eyes. Aemond immediately looked away to the other side of the room, his heart pounding, feeling like a fool caught red-handed stealing. He wanted to burn himself with shame. He pursed his lips and decided not to look at her again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw various lords of the north come up to her, asking her to dance one by one, and she politely agreed. He tried not to look at her, but he saw that she spoke to everyone gently and with a smile, not exceeding the limits of decency. He was mad for some reason. He thought he had drunk too much wine.

Cregan Stark approached Helaena and asked her to dance. His sister accepted the offer with a smile. Aemond saw Aegon get to his feet and, encouraged, moved toward the young Lady Stark. She looked at him, surprised, and smiled when he offered her a dance. Aemond's jaw clenched at the sight.

To his surprise, in front of his father and mother, Aegon at least pretended to be able to behave. Aemond watched tensely to make sure his hand didn't go too low. He would whisper something in her ear sometimes, and she would turn her head away in embarrassment mixed with amusement, but she didn't seem discouraged and looked at him kindly. On one of the turns, he saw her look at him again, this time with curiosity, and he looked away again, burned. Compared to Aegon, he always felt deficient.

Although his mind was more receptive, full of knowledge, enthusiasm, humility, his body was more efficient in combat, he knew that first impressions count. Aegon, when he wasn't lying in his own vomit between the whore's legs, could pass for a very handsome, interesting man.

It was very easy for him to talk to the ladies, to make contact with them, to flirt with them, which Aemond couldn't. Even though he had a lot to say, he couldn't put it into words.

The dance ended and Y/N and Cregan returned to their seats. Out of the corner of his eye, Aemond saw her bare arms glistening with sweat and exertion, and felt the heat of his lower body. He felt remorse for thinking that way about a woman when his mother and sister were sitting next to him, and he only took a sip of wine, as if he wanted it to wash away all impure thoughts from him.

The rest of the feast passed peacefully, the guests slowly dispersed to their chambers. Y/N and Cregan soon said goodbye to everyone. Aemond's heart leaped as he saw that before she could get through the door, she turned toward him, her gaze bright and warm.

Aemond promised his mother that he would watch over Aegon. So he obediently stayed with him to the end, tearing him away from the kitchen wench and leading him to his chamber. He made him lie down on the bed, and after initially struggling, he gave in and fell asleep, snoring.

Aemond closed the door to his chamber and stepped out into the cloister, heading for his own room. He froze, seeing her figure slinking by with only a candle in his hand. She was already dressed in a long white nightgown, over it she had a white night robe tied at the waist. With her fair skin, dark hair and eyebrows and white robes, she looked like a ghost.

She looked around as she walked barefoot to see if anyone was seeing her, and when she saw him, her eyes widened in surprise. He wondered if she was on her way to see her lover. They stared at each other for a moment in silence. Aemond felt he had to speak to her, that if he didn't do it now, he never would.

"Should a lady go unattended alone at night in a castle?" He asked, there was an involuntary coldness and indifference in his voice, in which he tried to dress his words so as not to show how much his heart was pounding. To his surprise, Lady Stark smiled as if she was about to laugh.

"She's allowed if it's her castle." She said carefully. Aemond pursed his lips at her remark. She saw it and smiled even wider. "Will you accompany me, Prince Aemond?" She asked, a sudden shudder ran through his body. He felt the heat and tension in his lower body again, and he wondered what she was implying. She didn't let him think too long.

“I heard you love philosophy and history. You may be interested in the crypts of my ancestors. I was just on my way to pay my respects to my grandmother. Today is also her name day." She said embarrassed, as if she felt that what came out of her mouth earlier could sound very ambiguous.

Aemond swallowed softly, feeling relieved and disappointed at the same time. He just nodded his head, letting out only a quiet grunt of approval. He would went to see anything with her, as long as he could look at her up close.

Lady Stark led him down the stairs to the underworld. Her candle was the only source of light. He wondered if she was cold, but she didn't seem that way. She moved through the dark corridors with remarkable ease. They passed sculptures of her ancestors, staring at them solemnly and menacingly, the shadows on their faces disturbing.

Finally, they stopped in front of a statue of a pretty woman holding flowers in her hand. Y/N lit other candles from her candle, standing at the feet of the sculpture, the corridor slowly began to be flooded with their light. Aemond stared heart pounding at her profile.

He wondered how she could trust him so easily. Go underground with a strange man, where no one would hear her cries for help. If she had come down here with Aegon, she would have been lost by now. He himself was battling some wild, alien desire that now possessed his body.

He was completely bewildered, always able to control himself perfectly, also when it came to his sexuality. After an adventure at the age of 13 in a brothel served to him by his brother, such matters did not attract him much attention. Now, looking at her, he felt hunger.

"Is it wise to go down to the crypts with a strange man, at night?" He finally asked impassively, looking at her tensely. She looked at him surprised, as if she didn't even consider the possibility that anything could happen to her. She smiled calmly.

"I didn't come down here with your brother, so I guess I'll be fine, my prince." She spoke calmly, though her voice trembled slightly. Aemond's pupil dilated in shock. She had to watch Aegon at the banquet and see how closely he spoke to the servants.

Aemond swallows silently, looking away. They stood in silence for a moment. He could smell her scent in his nose. A mix of lavender, flowers and herbs. He felt like his head was spinning and that he should go back upstairs because the tension in his pants was unbearable.

"You never dance, my prince?" She asked suddenly, looking pensively at the figure of her grandmother. Aemond looked at her in surprise. His eye traveled down her body, he saw the faint outline of her breasts and thighs. He swallowed, feeling his heart pounding.

"Never." He said indifferently. He didn't know what else to add. "I can dance, but I don't enjoy it." He finally exhaled.

Y/N looked at him surprised and smiled understandingly. She nodded, looking down at her legs. Aemond pursed his lips. He thought he couldn't stand it.

His hand involuntarily reached for her soft cheek, grabbing it. She gasped at his touch, jumped in surprise, and looked at him with wide eyes. The words stuck in her throat as he turned her face towards him and stepped closer to her. He pressed her forehead against his, they could feel each other's breath on each other, breathing raggedly, loudly.

He didn't hold her roughly, he wanted to give her the feeling that she could pull away at any moment and run from him. She looked stunned for a moment, her eyes expressing terror, uncertainty and something he couldn't describe. They looked at each other in silence.

He felt a huge shiver run through his body as her hand touched his scarred cheek. They both took a deep breath. He wondered what they were even doing, what his mother would think if she saw him. But he couldn't think about it anymore. He had been frustrated throughout the feast, watching her dance and touch every man but him.

He leaned over her and pressed his lips greedily against hers, and she moaned softly in surprise. He kissed her lustfully, and after a moment, to his delight, she opened her mouth, allowing him to caress her. He moaned low as she started kissing back, her hand tangling in his hair.

He thought they must be crazy, that the wine had gone too far into their heads, but he couldn't tear himself away from her. He held her in an iron grip, the wet sounds of their mouths echoing down the hall, pausing sometimes for a moment to catch their breath, but neither of them could really stop, they continued kissing, moaning into each other's mouths. He held her close but kept his distance so she wouldn't feel what was going on in his pants. He didn't want her to think he was trying to take her by force now. He wouldn't be able to refuse her, if she offered it.

They finally broke apart, as if remembering who they were, where they were, and what they were doing. An expression of uncertainty and embarrassment crossed their faces, and they took a few steps away from each other, terrified. Aemond thought she could hear his heart pounding. He had never felt so much desire before. He prayed to the Seven to give him the strength to turn around, climb the stairs, and not touch her.

"Forgive me, my Lady. I didn't mean to scare or embarrass you. Let me go to my chambers." He said, and with the last of his willpower he turned away, heading for the stairs, leaving her in the candlelight.

_____

Between the first and second part of my regular series, I also started writing something else, in the subject of HOTD. I'm curious what you think and if you'd like a little mini-series out of this! If you want to be tagged in the next parts, let me know. ~

[b00kdiary]

An Old Flame (Part III)

Aemond Targaryen X Targaryen reader

Where two old flames meet again after 6 years and now as grown adults, their desires and feelings are in conflict with the civil war brewing within their families.

Warnings: Long chapters! Contains swearing, violence and smut ( mature content 18+)

Masterlist (Aemond Targaryen)

"You and Prince Aemond did what??”

I winced at the shriek that escaped Lyanna, slapping her gently in warning as my eyes scanned left and right through the gardens to ensure no spies lingered.

“Ly, god above do you want to say that any louder?” I hissed, shaking my head at the girl, but she merely laughed, utter bafflement at what I just told her present on her face.

Lyanna was my best friend growing up in Kings Landing, her mother served mine as a lady in waiting and thus, we grew up as thick as thieves, even keeping in contact when I’d left for Dragonstone. As soon as I arrived back I sent her a letter, formally asking her to be my lady in waiting.

“I’m sorry Y/N” She giggled, throwing a hay blonde braid over her scrawny shoulder “But you just told me that you and your uncle, THE Prince Aemond, had a very intimate night together last week, and you expect me to what… nod like a lady?” She deadpanned, her sea blue eyes narrowing as she beheld my snort.

“No not a lady but I hardly anticipated you squealing like a pig” I jabbed, though she merely rolled her eyes in response. “And do you have to specify that he is my uncle?” I groan, eyes shuttering in a mixture of embarrassment and confusion.

“Hey, I’m not judging you” She calls, laying a soft creamy hand against my thigh “The House of the dragon is not the only family to marry within their own bloodlines- there’s a reason it’s still something that happens today.”

She was trying to be comforting, but all I could hear echoing in my ears was that word.

Marry.

“I’m not going to marry Prince Aemond” I lament, shaking my head as a thumb presses against my brow.

“You don’t want to or you think it could never happen?” Ly asks, her red simple cotton dress bunching as she crosses a leg over the other, readjusting her skirt. I sit up, straightening my back, my own hands fiddling with my purple gown, my finger picking at the dark embroidery.

“Our families despise each other, no matter how much they fake civility. Gods, Luke took Aemond’s eye!” I exclaim, sighing at the crazy familial dynamics and even Lyanna winces at that very big calamity.

“And even if by some miracle my brothers didn’t hate Aemond and he didn’t hate them and our families did not want to tear each other’s throats out every chance they got… I don’t know if what this is, what we are, whether marriage is even in the realm of possibility.” I frown, frustration filling me at the complicated situation I’d unwittingly let my lust lead me into.

“You don’t think he wants to marry you?” Lyanna asks, too softly, that weary kindness etched onto her lovely face. I laugh bitterly, quickly standing as I notice a group of ladies meandering closer to where we sat. Lyanna swiftly joined me and I clasped her at the elbow, ignoring her warning glance at it.

I knew she would scold me later, yet again claiming that a Princess should not be so benevolent and close with her lady-in-waiting.

I hated all that hierarchy nonsense.

“It’s been four days” I grit out, scowling as we walk “Four days since he bid me goodnight with a kiss, a kiss so tender I thought I’d pass out as I left his chamber and then… nothing! Nothing besides the most cordial of greetings and the occasional glance at dinner or as we cross paths around the Keep.”

“Is he ignoring you? Or is he trying to be inconspicuous… to not let either of you be caught up in your attraction and be too obvious in court?” Lyanna suggests, her thumb soothing my wrist to ease the scowl now seemingly permanently marred against my face.

“He can be inconspicuous all he so bloody desires, I’m not asking for a declaration of love, the least he could do is acknowledge what happened, I’m starting to think I’d imagined it” I muttered bitterly, my eyes darting to and from the flowers adorning the side of the walkway.

But I knew it wasn’t a dream.

Not from the ache that sat between my thighs when I’d woken the next day and certainly not from the way my lips and neck had been scattered in light bruises from the passion of his kisses.

“Y/N if you’re going to start fantasising about that night in the middle of the damn garden, please let me escort you to your chambers to spare everyone the torture of that disgustingly ravenous look on your face” Lyanna pleaded, her tone mocking as she laughed. I slapped her away, a laugh breaking my facade of irritation even as I truly did feel myself relax.

“Come, let us not talk of silly boys any further” Ly smiles, rocking as she pulled me to enter the Keep. I nodded, a smile beaming across my own face as I resolved to ignore the situation.

If Aemond didnt care, then nor did I.

***

We leisurely made our way through the Keep, our laughter and chatter echoing through the empty halls and suddenly, it felt as if I’d never left, as if we’d never grown up, still 9 years old and wreaking havoc on the place.

“And what of you?” I ask, wiggling my brows as she grimaced, pushing me away “Come on, Ly- I’ve told you every gaudy, embarrassing minute detail of my romantic life, now it is your turn!” I giggle as she rolls her eyes, a faint blush heating up her neck and cheeks.

“There is little to tell,” She says but quietly sighs in defeat at the determination on my face “There was a boy, well man I guess now, a while ago. He worked as an apprentice for the blacksmiths. Back when I’d worked at the bakery I’d deliver bread and pastries to his master and well, I suppose we became rather close.”

I gasped, my eyes wide at the news “You never told me this!” I accuse and she rolls her eyes, swatting impatiently to dismiss it.

“There was nothing to tell” She swears, that light fading slightly “Last year, he left Kings Landing after having completed his apprentice work, he had business of his masters a while away and would be gone for a good few years.”

“Was marriage not on the table?” I ask, quiet and soft, my hand holding hers in silent comfort. She shook her head, eyes full of sadness and what looked like regret.

“He would be gone too long and well, he was onto better things not exactly beneficial to essentially abandon all he’d worked for to marry a lowly baker's girl,” She said bitterly, shaking her head with self-resentment.

“Hey” I chided, already halting her to a stop. “You were not merely a bakers girl just as you are not now just a lady in waiting. Ly, you are incredible.” She scoffs out a laugh but I don’t relent. “Truly, you’re brave and strong, you are loyal to a fault and you work hard at what you do. No one deserves happiness and love as much as you do. And I don’t just say that as your friend.”

She sighs at my words, her eyes fogging slightly as she nods, silent appreciation lining her eyes.

“Gods” She giggles out, wiping at her eyes and pulling me along to walk, dismissing the vulnerability of the prior moment. “Who needs to hear of my soppy nonsense when your failed romantics are so much more entertaining?” She teases, poking at me as I chuckle, swatting her hand away.

“Oh please,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

“No, but c’mon- The story of your first kiss?” She snorts, laughing so hard she has to stop to lean against the wall beside the servant's quarters. I glower, folding my arms as she continues. “That boy, what was his name Timothy, Tommy something- not only did you bang teeth at the first attempt but you bit his lip so hard he bled!”

She croaks from amusement, the hand on her mouth and the other on her chest as she struggles to regain her composure.

“I was 12 and not exactly an expert” I defend, chuckling as I blushed. “Oh come on Ly, It’s not that funny” I pout as her humour begins to die down, quiet giggles now flooding out.

“No, I’d have to agree with her. It is exceptionally funny, Princess.”

I freeze, my body going taut as a bow at the raspy chuckle of words that are said just beside my ear. Lyanna’s eyes widen as she halts and immediately bends into a bow, her head down muttering an earnest greeting to the Prince and I hear his soft regard back.

She looks at me as if warning me that ignoring his presence is more telling than facing him head on and I grit my teeth in bitter agreement. I turn on my heel, face passive as I see Prince Aemond, a small smile gracing my lips.

“Prince Aemond” I nod, my hands clenching as his eye beholds me, a glimmer of amusement lighting in it. He nods back, one corner of his lips quirking up as he leans against the doorframe, probably having snaked in through the servant's quarter.

His usual means of fast and undetected movement.

“That was quite the story, I have to say I’m surprised… you don’t strike me as being so clumsy with intimacy” He said casually, but the tone of his voice and that infuriating smirk indicated that he knew I wasn’t clumsy, indicating that he had experienced it first-hand.

“Well, it was my first time, Prince” I smile cordially, batting my eyelashes and I notice Lyanna cringe in acknowledgement of the ire that usually follows that look. “Fortunately for most of us, we weren’t weaned on paid whores to gain early experience from.”

The jab hits home and I nearly leer at the darkness that invades Aemond’s face, his jaw tensing and lips thinning, even as Lyanna steps forward with anxiety. The silence enveloped us for a few moments, The Prince and I were in a silent battle as his eyes held mine and despite how furious I was, my body still tightened in remembrance and yearning of what had happened the last time we’d been in such close proximity.

His eye flared and his throat bobbed as if he too was remembering the same.

I flushed at that look and took a step back, the first to break away as I tried to recompose myself. Aemond frowned slightly and reached a hand toward me.

“Princess, perhaps we could-“

“Princess Y/N!”

My head snagged at the familiar voice and I swiftly turned from a now irritated Aemond, my head looking behind me to the blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy a few steps behind.

“Jamie Lannister!” I gasped, a laugh of surprise escaping me as I rushed forward a few steps, damning etiquette as I enveloped the boy in a tight hug. He laughed, deep and joyous as he too wrapped his arms around my waist and held me closer.

I pulled back, grinning as I took in his face. The tanned skin, the striking sky blue of his eyes and the slightly overgrown but styled honey-blonde waves that were neatly pulled back from his face. He was larger, much more muscular and taller than he had been six years ago.

“I heard you were back and had to come to see you” He beamed as my hands fell into his and held them tightly. I pulled at his rough, large hands towards where Ly stood, a similar grin across her lips.

“Jamie, you remember Lyanna,” I said stopping before her and she bowed slightly in greeting. Jamie merely shook his head and took her hand, raising it to his lips in a poised kiss, one that had Ly blushing and stuttering in response.

“Gods, it’s been years,” I said “What are you doing here? Visiting your father?” I asked but he shook his head, hand coming down to tap at his vigil with a toothy grin.

“You’re fighting in the tournament?” Lyanna gasped, clasping her hands before her as she laughed.

“My first year entering” He nodded, a charming and amenable smile on his lips.

“That is amazing… I usually despise tourney’s but if you’re taking part Jamie, then I shall be there front and centre” I teased and he snorted, his eyes washing over my face.

“Your beauty in presence would be greatly appreciated Princess Y/N, but perhaps you could gift me further with your favour?” He asked, a slight boyish and nervous twinge as he lowered his eyes to me. I blushed slightly, the compliment washing over me.

Indeed, we were not little children anymore.

But that compliment did not ignite even a single ember of want in my body, and that disappointment laced through me, even as I remembered the certain Prince still stood in the shadows, watching.

“Hm…” I contemplated, tapping my chin jokingly as the pair laughed “Ask me at the tourney Ser and you shall have your answer then” I shrugged, winking and Jamie scoffed, chuckling deeply.

But that humour soon cut off as his eyes strained left.

“Prince Aemond” He greeted, his smile faltering slightly as he turned to bow. “My apologies, I did not see you there.” I turned and beheld the face that had Jamie, who usually always wore a smile, to become grave.

Aemond was still leaning against that doorframe, arms folded across his broad chest as he stared at me and then at Jamie. His face was contorted in what can only be described as indignation, his jaw clenched and his eye narrowing down with scrutiny as he beheld the young Lord before him.

“Ser Lannister” Aemond purred back, the welcome sending an icy chill down my back. “I did not know that you and the Princess Y/N were such close companions” He states simply, his body marginally relaxing as a wicked sort of smile graced his face.

Lyanna glanced worriedly at me.

“We’ve known each other since very young, Prince, our mother's old acquaintances. We grew up good friends, I suppose that friendship did not die down with distance” Jamie smiled, looking toward me in earnest and my heart beamed at the nostalgia.

Even as Aemond snorted, his gaze scorching against my face.

“Well, you’ll be in for quite the treat then since I know quite vividly how the Princess warms to and reconnects with her close friends” He snarks out with a perceptive smile, his eye sliding to mine “Isn’t that right, darling?”.

I stiffen at his words, at the insinuation of that night we shared, the insinuation of me being just as ‘hospitable’ to Jamie.

He was calling me a whore.

And he was using his goddamned nicknames from the bedchambers to pour salt in the wound.

I seethed, even as Jamie looked towards me in confusion. I stepped forward, ready to slam his insufferable face into the concrete walls, but Lyanna was swiftly by my side, a hand subtly gripping my arm, her nails digging into the flesh to snap me out of the red that blurred my vision.

Aemond smirked, pushing off the doorframe and unfolding his long yet muscular arms. He nodded once to Jamie, who bowed back, still weary at what had just occurred before Aemond looked to me, his expression severe and unforgiving.

I held back my urge to spit at him as I raised a brow instead, though he merely stared, hard and unmoving, before stalking away, his feet ever silent on the ground.

We all stood there for a few moments after he left, my blood boiling with ire and confusion at what the fuck he just said and did.

He ignores me for four days and then attacks me with insults?

Bastard.

Utter bastard.

Lyanna tugs on my hand and I snap back to reality, biting back the fury coating me. I sigh, gathering myself before I turn to Jamie, an easy and faux grin on my face.

“Let’s go eat, I’m starving.”

***

“This is why I hate tourney’s so much” I seethed quietly, scowling as I looked towards Ly, who stood frowning beside me.

“Ignore them” She mumbled back, her eyes not meeting mine as she stood, hands clasped and back straight. “They want a reaction.”

Indeed, the endless Lords and Ladies that relentlessly stared and gossiped as they watched me, occasionally laughing or smirking when they caught my attention were clearly desperate for the bastard Princess to lose her shit.

And honestly, I was close to it.

“Princess Y/N, I am glad that you could join us for the event, particularly as our guest of honour” Queen Alicent called softly, a mother's smile on her face as she gazed from beside me on her throne.

Guest of honour- a bawdy and supercilious title that just meant being gawked at and paraded about like some kind of exotic creature.

“Of course, my Queen, it is an honour to have been chosen” I smile, holding back my retort that I would not be a ‘guest’ in my own home had she not lost her mind and attacked my mother six years ago.

“Are you supporting anyone in particular?” The Queen asked, a teasing grin on her face “Any male here that has caught your eye?” I blush at the remark, surprised by her forwardness but I merely shake my head in reply.

“No, not like that. I am here to see Ser Jamie Lannister, it’s his first tournament and we grew up very close” I say, my eyes glancing to where the boy stood, armour on, besides his black mount. “And you, my Queen? I didn’t suppose this your kind of sport.”

She shakes her head reverently with a small laugh “No, I can scarcely handle all the violence and banging” She states grimacing, before looking to me with a genuine smile “But Aemond is joining for the first time and I wanted to watch in support”

“What?” I gasp and her eyes flash to mine in surprise at my outburst. I blanche, clearing my throat before asking again, much quieter and genial “I thought the prince hated tourneys, why would he join this one?”

“You’re guess would be as good as mine, Princess Y/N. He merely came to me a few hours ago with the news that he was struck with the desire to participate and I was more than willing to indulge him.” I nod absently as she speaks, and when she turns to Ser Criston, my eyes snap widely to Lyanna.

She frowns, that knowing and worried expression marring her face too.

Gods Aemond, please don’t do something reckless and stupid.

***

The tourney was hectic.

Lord after Lord, Ser after Ser jousted, running at each other astride their horses before one would stab the other with the pointy end of the stick.

It was tedious as it was addictive.

Jamie was doing well, spectacularly well in fact.

I roared out a cheer, relief lining every inch of my body as his lance pierced the opposing Lord's shoulder. I winced as that Lord flung off his horse, his body rolling and bucking against the sandy ground as his horse fled away.

Jamie Lannister, in all his kindness and civility, climbed off his horse and helped his opponent up. The two shared a respectful handshake before the Lord was limping away and the crowds began cheering and chanting for Jamie.

I grinned, clapping my hands so hard they burned as he bowed and then returned to his tent, to prepare for his next match.

He had made it to the final.

And so had Aemond.

My heart had stopped when Aemond had first come out onto the ground.

 He wore completely black leather with his shining black chest plate adorned with his greenhouse vigil, sculpted perfectly against the broad expanses of his body. His hair had been braided back, loose and away from his face, starkly highlighting the boredom and disinterest there.

It was obvious he did not want to be here.

But he jousted like he was made for it.

Skilled, deadly and precise as he mounted his horse, foregoing any helmet to not obscure the vision of his one good eye. My heart hammered in my chest, my fear and anxiety making me feel like vomiting every time he would grab his lance to begin.

But every time he would prove that I needn't worry.

He’d charge low and fast, his body like death incarnate as he’d angle his lance, perfectly still and poised, right into the opposing man’s vulnerable points. Blood would ooze and bodies would fall and despite myself, I’d nearly cry with relief, my hands clapping along with the roars of the crowds.

I wrung my hands anxiously as the bell rang and the crowds began to mumble, their noises and speculation an incessant buzzing that set my teeth on edge. Lyanna hands me a cup of wine, her hand giving mine a reassuring tap and I smile gratefully, drowning back the contents in one full gulp.

Aemond and Jamie begin their descent to the centre of the grounds on their horses, silence enveloping the grounds as they stoically beheld one another.

Jamie looked passive, ready.

Aemond looked feral and challenging.

The two men stopped before the terrace and bowed to their Queen. I inhaled and exhaled in uneven puffs as I met Aemond’s eye. He frowned upon seeing the anxiety and tension on my face and I wished that I could tell him to not hurt Jamie like I knew he wished to and to not get himself hurt by being reckless.

I start as Jamie overshadows Aemond, his face directly in my line of sight, a huge grin spread across his handsome face. I smile, leaning forward, already knowing what he would ask.

“Princess Y/N” He called, and the masses hushed as they watched him stop beside the edge of the seats “ Would you do me the great honour of bestowing upon me your favour?” He asked and I chuckled at his faux innocence.

I stood as I grabbed the wreath from Ly and walked over to the barriers. With a gentle smile and steady hand, I lowered it onto Jamie’s lance and laughed as he bowed his head deeply, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

The crowds applauded and whistled loudly as I returned to my seat but my eyes remained on Prince Aemond, remained glued on the jealousy and anger that fuelled him now. He didn’t so much as smile as he trotted away to his corner, that lethal calm oozing from him.

I rubbed at my face, ire filling me as I tucked back the loose strands of hair that fell into my face. My body was on edge and my throat tightened as I keenly watched them raise their lances and as the bell rang, they charged.

I had wondered before who I wanted to win, whose injury would hurt me more- and had settled on both of them being of equal importance to me.

And yet, as Jamie’s lance tilted and aimed directly for a spot that would not only strike Aemond but that could seriously injure him, that could kill him.

I knew my answer.

“Aemond!” I cried out, my hands cupping onto my mouth as indeed, Jamie’s lance punctured straight through the steel of his armour into his shoulder and the Prince was thrown violently off his horse, landing on his back with a deafening thud.

I gasped, barely feeling the supportive hold of Lyanna as time seemed to slow down and darken. Aemond lay there for a moment, hand clutching his shoulder and blood soaking into the orange sand.

“Oh gods, please” I begged, tears welling in my eyes as he remained down and I could scarcely breathe. I released a huge exhale, shuddering wholly, as his body rose. I poignantly ignored the unyielding stare of Queen Alicent beside me, too desperate to ensure that Aemond was alright.

“He’s ok, look- he’s up and moving” Ly whispers, rubbing my back in comfort and I nearly sobbed in relief. Aemond’s face is contorted in pain, a grimace lining his lips as he bows to his mother, his eyes not once meeting mine before he walks away, back straight, face tight.

And shakes Jamie’s hand.

The two men express something amongst themselves before Aemond pats the boy on the back and returns back to his tent. I bit my lip as I watch his retreating figure, worry eating away at me as Jamie comes before the Queen, bowing and grinning at the cheering and adoring crowds.

My eyes meet his again, and he frowns, his eyes glancing to the tent I had been watching intently and a knowing smile, a sad smile, graces his face as he nods.

I smile back, remorse and sympathy on my face as I rise from my seat, ignoring the looks of the people around me as I rush down the steps. The crowds and court were far too encased in Jamie’s victory and with easy manoeuvres, I slip past the stands and gathered crowds, weaving in and out to get to the fighter's quarters.

I duck my head, my hair falling to shield my face as I stride past numerous tents for the competing Lords, looking for the one that was embellished in Green and Red.

For Targaryen and Hightower.

I wait patiently beside a dark brown mare, patting down its fur and allowing it to nuzzle against me in comfort as I beheld Aemond’s tent, knowing that I’d need to wait for the Maester to leave. Thankfully, within minutes he does, the dark-skinned and elderly man slips under the flaps of the tent and with his bag in tow, moves to enter some other injured males' tents.

My fear has me practically running towards Prince Aemond’s tent and I don’t bother with knocking or announcing myself as I slip in and close the sheets behind me.

I sigh in relief as he stands before me, eyes training on mine with a grim expression. The prince was now shirtless, his toned and creamy body on display and perhaps if it weren’t for the red-soaked cloth wrapped around his shoulder, I might have been inclined to blush.

“Aemond” I gasp quietly, stepping forward with an outstretched hand, though he merely dismisses it moving out of the way.

“I’m fine, Y/N” He grits out as he takes in my worry, his face hard as he turns towards his armour set on the table “I will save you the time and trouble, go fawn over Ser Jamie’s victory.” His words are venomous, lethally honed to hurt me.

I recoil, shaking my head as I march to stand beside him, staring at the side of his face even as he avoids my eye. “What the fuck is wrong with you” I spit, my blood boiling “I don’t give a shit that Jamie won, I came here because you’re hurt-”

He turns to me, fury lighting his face as he stares at me. “Was it not satisfying enough to watch the handsome, charming young ser knock me on my ass, you wanted to come to see the true extent of blood drawn too?” He hissed, scowling bitterly as he grabbed a cup of wine bringing it to his lips.

I seethed, my hand instinctively gripping onto that damned cup and throwing it across the tent, the grape staining against the cloth. His eye flared, the hand that had once held the cup now clenching in restraint.

“I don’t know who you think you are but you are acting like a pathetic child, right now,” I say, folding my arms “ Do you honestly think that I’d choose to celebrate with Jamie over coming to see if you’re alright? Do you truly have that low of an opinion of me, truly view me as the whore you implicated me as earlier?”

His eyes fell, that stoic expression hesitating as he beheld my anger, my sadness and hurt and concern all laced into one very sensitive expression.

“I didn’t intend to insult you, I just got…” He paused, sighing dejectedly, his head hanging in shame. “Jamie Lannister is an eligible and noble bachelor and you are a beautiful and well-desired woman of powerful blood- even my mother and Otto talked of how perfectly suited a marriage would be between the two of you.”

I furrowed my brows, my anger simmering into nothing as I beheld his frown, that quiet jealousy and insecurity hidden there. He continued, a strain in his voice as he lifted that one raw eye to mine “Seeing the two of you together, I knew they were right. Lords and Ladies like the two of you are meant to be together and I was envious of that reality.”

“Why? I never once stated an interest to wed Jamie, not with romantic intentions or political ones.” I said gently, my hand coming to rest upon his bare chest “ Did you not hear me scream for you when that lance pierced your armour? I was scared for you, not Jamie. You. I have never been as scared in my life as I was when you were on the ground” I said with a trembling voice.

He didn’t reply, his jaw clenching and eye averting as I stood before him, that invisible wall a barrier between us.

And I knew that this was more than just male ego and bravado at play.

“Jamie and I have been friends for many years, just friends.” I lament, my fingers moving to his chin and I grip it to bring his eyes to mine. “He is a lovely man and I’m sure any would woman would be lucky to gain his favour, but I’m not that woman.”

“The way you hugged-“

“ I haven’t seen him in six years,” I say, cutting him off, before scoffing a bit embarrassingly “and perhaps, I may have been a little more enthusiastic knowing that you were there to witness it.” His eyes widen at that and I smile as a small smirk graces his features.

“You wanted to make me jealous?” He questions, an incredulous tone lining his words, even as he shifts closer, a hand now settling on the spine of my back. I nearly purr under the feel of his touch, that warmth and electricity firing through every single atom of my being.

“You ignored me for four days” I remind him, my brow rising and lip curling into a sneer “I was confused and furious and… embarrassed.” His eye softens and his hand tightens around me at the slight quake in my voice.

“That night… we did something so personal, so wildly damning Aemond and if it meant nothing then you need to tell me now, please I can’t-“

He cuts me off by bringing his lips to mine. I thaw into him, into the tenderness of his lips as he carefully and graciously brushes them against mine, his hands holding my body against his, his fingers curving into the soft material of my gown.

The kiss is slow, deliberate and keen, an act of admission and action, an answer to the question I desperately needed. He pulls back after a few moments, resting his forehead against mine as we pant against each other.

“I do not regret it at all, it meant… god, Y/N, it meant everything to me. I’ve been fantasizing about that night, your lips, your body, fuck the sounds that I got out of you…” He ran his hand down my jaw and across my lips, my body lighting at the bare touch.

“I didn’t want to stay away from you, it physically pained me to do it but” He paused sighing “I didn’t want you to feel obliged… It is no easy thing to be with a man like me, and I did not want your first experiences of lust and intimacy to cloud your judgement and to push you into doing things that you will later regret”. I frown, my hand cupping his cheek.

“What do you mean by a ‘man like you'? What kind of man is that Aemond?” I ask, my lips pouting under the pain that his dark eye expressed.

“You know Darling” He laughs bitterly “I am no charming and handsome Lannister, not with this monstrosity on my face and certainly not by the standards of the people's opinion of me-“

“Do I honestly look like I desire a pampered and pretty Ser?” I question, brows furrowing even as he chokes on a laugh but I continue “ I don’t give a fuck what anyone else looks like or what anyone else says. I yearn for you my Prince, scars and all, and not just physically but spiritually, emotionally, we connect on a level that nothing, no one, else could compare to.”

I ran a shaking hand down his scar, racing it from his brow over the leather patch and to his cheek before resting it against his jaw. Aemond’s face was constricted and I could feel his trembling breath beneath my palm.

“You said so yourself Aemond, like a moth to a flame” I whisper the words back to him, a caress across his lips “I’m yours.”

His restraint snaps at my proclamation and soon, I’m whining into his mouth as he devours me, his lips feral upon mine. My hands lay over his chest, careful of his wound and I run them purposefully across his chest and shoulders, writhing at the feeling of muscle and flesh.

He groans, his hands slipping down my back to my ass and he kneads the flesh there with satisfaction as I yelp in surprise. Our tongues battle, fanning each other with reverence as his hands slide down from my ass to my thighs and with little effort he hoists me up.

“Aemond!” I giggle, my legs wrapping around his waist. He grins, peppering kisses against my cheek and lips as he turns to sit me on the table, standing between my legs as he does so.

I swiftly pull him back down to my lips, my hands tugging against the braid of hair that now falls against his back and he jerks against my thigh, growling low in his throat in appreciation. His hands roam, tracing down my neck and over the flesh of my chest and I shiver as he thumbs my nipples through the material, pinching and rolling the sensitive pebbled flesh.

I whimper as he pulls back from our kiss, chuckling darkly in amusement at my need but before I can chide him, he’s sliding down onto his knees before me.

Holy gods.

I pause, my breath hollowing out as I behold him on his knees, his hands gripping and spreading my thighs to stretch along the table and give him better access.

“Aemond?” I whisper uncertainly but he merely hushes me, a soothing hand rubbing my ankle as he trails my skirts up my legs before handing me the gathered material to hold. He smiles, feral and possessed as he takes in my white stockings and one by one, he slowly strips off the material, his trace scorching against my exposed legs.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about this cunt since last week, my darling” He comments, pressing a kiss against my thigh, even as I clench at the obscenity of his words. “I only got a little taste but now I’m ready to indulge myself… What do you think?”

His question is genuine, regard flashing across the Princes face as he stops, resting his hands against my thighs in uncertainty.

“I don’t want you to injure yourself further Aemond, your shoulder is already bleeding-“

“Trust me, there is no better remedy in the world than what lay between your pretty thighs, Princess” he purrs grinning, and again looks at me in inquiry.

I nod, knowing that he could do anything to me and I’d consent.

“Use your words darling” He reprimanded, smiling at the quake that travelled through my thighs at his lewd caress.

“Yes, I… yes, I want you to” I croak out, my cheeks heating. Aemond smirks, knowing that I couldn’t say the words but he doesn’t tease, instead, as if impatient, he runs his hands up to my underwear, tucking his fingers under the cloth and rips them clean off.

I gasp, hips bucking as he does so, astonished.

“Aemond, what the fu-“

I moan out in surprise as he licks a strip up the length of my pussy.

He pulls back, lips wet, eye wild and mutters “Fuck, you taste like heaven.”

His lips come back to my aching pussy, his attention solely on my clit as he sucks desperately at the nub, his lips pulling as his tongue lapped invariably against it. I gasp, eyes falling shut and my body tightening at the sheer pleasure that rushed through my body at the feeling.

So overwhelming, so all-consuming. It was so unfamiliar and yet so intoxicating.

He grins against me, as I pant out his name, my hand coming down to grip his braid between my fingers and as he grazes his teeth against me I yank, hard enough to hurt. The groan of pleasure that reverberates through him and into me has me crying out, my hips now jerking back and forth, riding his tongue.

“Hmmm” He grumbles in praise as his hands grip my thighs on either side of his head, his fingers digging into the fleshy meat there, holding me down like a captive as he has his way with me.

“Aemond, fuck, fuck” I chant, endless whimpers escaping me as he trails his hot tongue down from my clit and pushes it into me, that stretch of warmth and movement making me spasm and my eyes roll. He fucks his tongue in and out at a steady and building pace, his nose angling to rub against my clit.

The stimulation was too much and I jolted, thighs aching as he held me against him, even as I fought to run away from that devastation. I cry out, tears leaking down my cheeks now at the cruel pace he sets, his nose strokes and his tongue fucks me in tandem, that familiar peak nearing.

He growls as he quickens his speed, clueing on to how my body has begun to tremor, and tighten and my pussy is clenching around his tongue.

And as he runs his teeth along that sensitive bud I gasp out, my eyes screwing shut, “Aemond, Aemond, Aemond” I chant again and again, near sobbing as that feeling within me cleaves, my body at breaking point as undulated release rocks through me. I whimper loudly, legs physically shaking and writhing as I try to wrangle them to close around his head.

Aemond continues to tease me through my orgasm, kissing and sucking and biting and I almost have to beg him to stop, that mixture of pleasure and pain completely wrecking me. He pulls away after a moment, a lewd and wet sound as he pops off from sucking my clit and I sag at the feeling.

My eyes clamped shut, my chest heaving up and down in exhaustion as I heard him rise, his breath similarly jagged. His hand cups my cheek as he holds me against him and I slowly blink my eyes at his.

I groan at the wetness across his lips, the rose on his cheeks and the mess of his hair from my fingers combing through them to hold him close but also to rip him off. He grins, feline and pleased as he takes in my utter ruin and the intensity of my release.

He kisses me, allowing me to taste myself and I sigh against his lips, my hand coming up to run up and down his jaw and chest.

“Are you in pain?” I ask, my concerned eyes dropping to his shoulder, where the blood now dried into the cloth. He shakes his head softly, even moving his arm back and forth in proof and I relax at the confirmation.

“That was amazing” I whisper, kissing his neck and then near his wounded shoulder and he laughs, his hand fiddling with the damp strands of my hair.

“Good” He muses, humming “ I fucking live off making you cum. There is nothing as beautiful as the noises you make and the way your face contorts when I’ve pushed you over the edge” He mutters lowly, smirking at the effect his words have on me.

“What about you?” I ask, shaking my head clear of the daze.

He merely kisses my cheek, nuzzling into me softly “What about me darling?”.

“You always make me feel good, make me… cum” He grins as that word leaves my mouth and I roll my eyes with heated cheeks. “What about you?”

“Pleasuring and finishing you is enough for me” He shrugs, and he looks genuine in his answer “ I have no expectation of anything else, do not worry my Princess.”

“I’m not worried and it’s not about expectations” I frown, leaning forward to pull him in for a deep kiss “ I want to make you feel good too” I whisper softly and he growls deep in his throat at the need and ardour coating my voice.

“Yeah?” He questions darkly, brow-raising even as I eagerly nod “There is plenty of time for that, sweet girl, there is so much yet for us to explore.” I shiver at the promise in his voice and that dark, meticulous light in his eyes.

“Very well, My Prince” I grin, my hand coming to rest against his throat “ But don’t even think about avoiding me for four days after this.”

@uaze123 @lomllino @daddysfavoritesexkitten @backinwonderl4nd @mirandastuckinthe80s @zgzgzh

[elisysd]

Us – James Bay

Masterlist - Previously - Next Chapter

Tell me how to be in this world Tell me how to breathe in and feel no hurt Tell me how 'cause I believe in something I believe in us

“Lyanna, did you know that Charles had an acting past?” asked her Pascale.

“No I did not! Why did you not tell me?” she said while looking at him.

“Mom! I told you to not say that! You’re going to embarrass me!” complained Charles.

“What did you play in?”

“Nothing serious, just commercials for sponsors. Nothing worth talking about.”

“You were voicing over in this Pixar movie as well.” Added his mom.

“No way! It’s amazing. I would love to do that one day! It’s on my bucket list. Do you know that is actually really hard, you should be proud of that! Not everyone can do it.”

“It was just a cameo. See mom. Look what you did.”

“I definitely want to see you acting.”

“I have them on a hard drive if you want Lyanna. It should be here somewhere. Wait a second.”

“Mom, please don’t!” whined Charles under the amused gaze of his brothers.

And so Lyanna and the Leclerc family sat in front of the television again, watching Charles's poor acting career, his brothers never missing an opportunity to make fun of him. As for Lyanna, her eyes were glued to the screen and nothing seemed to distract her. With an impassive look on her face, she scrutinised everything, sometimes asking to rewind. Charles, for his part, was doing everything he could to hide. If the ground could swallow him up, he would be delighted. When they had seen everything, Lyanna turned to Charles, both hands on her knees, and looked into his eyes before taking a deep breath.

“Charles, you are great at a lot of things but acting is definitely not one of them.”

“You are crushing his dreams. He would have loved to shoot a movie one day.” Said Arthur.

“Shut up. I’ve never said that!” Charles tried to defend himself.

While everyone was gathered in the living room, Charles's mother got up to fetch some coffee. Charles took the opportunity to follow her, not forgetting to place a kiss on the top of Lyanna's head.

“So” he began “What do you think of her?”

He heard her sigh before looking at him. Charles gulped. His mother was extremely important to him, her opinion matters. Not to the point he would break up with Lyanna if her mother did not approve but it would make things easier for him if she liked his girlfriend since he intended to have her around a lot.

“I still need time to get to know her but she is nice.”

“And?” he insisted.

“You make a beautiful couple, really. You both care about each other, it shows. But she seems careful with her words. I got the occasion to talk to her alone and she did not strike me as the confident type which surprises me considering her career. She is on her guard.”

“Yeah, it’s something we are working on. Her past relationship was messy. Abusive boyfriend. She went through some tough things.”

“Oh, I understand better… poor girl. No one deserves that. On the other hand, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you acting so carefree around someone. You’re relaxing when she’s here. That’s something nice to see. I’ve never though I would see you in love with someone this soon, it’s not been a long time since you broke up with Charlotte.”

“Oh wow, calm down, mom. I’m not in love, yet.” Tried to display Charles, laughing awkwardly.

“If it makes you sleep better at night, darling. But I know you, I’m your mom and a mom knows these things.”

The evening wore on, the conversations died down and everyone went their separate ways. Charles took Lyanna's hand and led her through the flat to his childhood bedroom. 

“So this is where little Charles grew up?” she asked while looking at the room.

Nothing really changed. Trophies are on the shelves with some books as well that seemed to be there only for decorative purposes. Pictures of Charles as kid, with his friends and family were displayed around the room. A single bed in the middle of the room is facing the door. It seemed so small. Noticing Lyanna’s gaze on it, Charles sat down, inviting her to do the same. He took her by the shoulder and pulled her against him as he laid back and gazed at the ceiling.

His hand traced small patterns on her arm and hip while her head his resting comfortably on his chest and under his chin.

“How are you? I hope my family has not been too overwhelming.”

“I’m good. I like your family, really. You are all so tight knit, it’s cute to see.”

“I’ve never asked but what is your family like.”

“It’s a big one. I’m an only child and it has always been my mom and I. My father is not really around he left us when I was a teenager. I’m close to my mom’s family, especially my grandparents. I love them to death. I have a lot of uncles and aunts and cousins. We are all close. One of my uncle is a big F1 fan by the way. If you meet him one day, I’m sure he’ll freak out.”

“If I meet him? Not when?”

“I mean… would you like to meet my family?”

“Well, I introduced you to mine, so I guessed that at some point you would do the same.”

“It’ just that… we both have crazy schedule and it’s in the middle of nowhere in France, so we would have to both find time to organize something. I am not opposed to it though.”

Charles nods. It wasn't the first time he'd felt that way, but today it really hit him. They weren't on the same wavelength. Charles was ready to welcome her into his life, to make room for her and build something. She was still hesitating, as if she had one foot in the relationship and one outside. It bothered him but he chose to not tell her. It would be a conversation they would have later.

On the way back to Charles's house, Lyanna couldn't help feeling a certain awkwardness between them. Charles had not spoken to her on the way home and had seemed distracted and preoccupied. When he arrived, he went straight to the bedroom, leaving her behind. She followed him and closed the bedroom door. She watched him undress, unsure of what to do.

“Charles? Is something wrong?”

He stopped and turned towards her.

“Where do you see this relationship going Lya?” he asked her bluntly.

She opened her mouth to answer before closing it again. She didn't know how to answer the question or what he was implying.

“I… what do you mean?”

“What are your feelings for me? What do you feel about us?”

“I…you…”

“It’s not a difficult question to answer Lyanna. I have feelings for you that are getting bigger and bigger the more time I spend around you. I want to include you in my life and I want to introduce you to the world as my girlfriend. I want to proudly say that I’m dating Lyanna Michel and it makes me the happiest man in the world. That’s how I feel about you and our relationship.”

“I… I care about you. I like being with you.”

“That’s it?”

“I’m not good at expressing how I feel, Charles you know that.”

“But I need to know that we are on the same page and we are going in the same direction.”

“I’m not there yet, Charles. I like you more than a friend and I want us to work out. I just need more time.”

“I can give you all the time you want Lyanna, I just need a sign from your side that you want that too as much as me.”

The next few days passed in a strange atmosphere. Charles was often out and about and Lyanna spent her days in the bedroom working on her own. Her conversation with Charles went round and round in her head. She didn't know how to tell him how she felt. She wanted to, she dreamed of doing it, but it was as if every time she managed to summon up the courage to tell him, something stuck in her throat. She couldn't do it, and that terrified her because she knew that if she didn't succeed, her relationship with Charles would suffer. She didn't want to lose him, she couldn't. Not like this.

On the morning of Charles's birthday, she got up at the crack of dawn, wanting to start the festivities just with him. She prepared breakfast on a tray before returning to the bedroom and placing it at the foot of the bed. She slowly approached his side of the bed and knelt down facing him. He was fast asleep and it surprised her to see how childlike he looked. She touched his face with her fingertips, making him flinch.

“Hey.” He groaned still asleep.

“Hey.” She answered. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“I prepared the breakfast. I thought that we could eat it in bed?”

Charles sighed and moved to the middle of the bed, leaving enough room for Lyanna to slip in. He picked up the tray and set it down beside them before putting an arm around the young woman's shoulder and pulling her close to him, kissing the side of her head.

“I don't want us to be estranged, Lya. Not today. And I feel like that's what we've been the last few days. I don't like it.”

“I don’t like it either…”

“Can we forget it and enjoy today?”

She nodded against his skin.

“What do you want to do today? Knowing we have to be at the hotel by 8pm for your birthday party.”

He looked at her, smirking before looking down at her lips.

“I have a few ideas.” He said leaning in and capturing her lips with his.

Charles was late for his own birthday party, which drew mockery from the guests present, and then he was pulled in all directions by his friends and family, so that he soon found himself drawn away from Lyanna. With an apologetic look he left her. The young woman managed to find Kika in the crowd, who was chatting to a young woman she didn't know. When Pierre's girlfriend saw her, she motioned for her to join them.

“Lyanna, hey! This is Carmen, George’s girlfriend. Carmen this is Lyanna, Charles’ girlfriend.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

“Same here.” Politely answered Lyanna.

“So… What did you get him? Tell us!” excitedly asked Kika.

“I bought him a book about architecture. I did not know what he could want and he often talks about architecture and art so… yeah. But actually I have something more personal planned for him.”

“Oh tell us more. If you are willing to share that with us, of course.” Added Carmen.

“I’m not good with words and I don’t know how to tell him what I feel for him so I thought that if I can’t do that with my own words might as well put it in music. I’m going to sing something for him tonight that gathers exactly what I want him to know. If I don’t throw up because of nerves before. I’ve never done that in public. Is that a good idea or is it too much? Should I keep that for when it’s just both of us?”

“I think it’s very cute. He will love it.” Reassured her Carmen.

“And it’s very romantic.”

“Oh my god, I’m sweating.”

On the other side of the room, Charles has found his friends and is soon in the middle of the circle, a shot of tequila in his hand. Pierre mockingly hands him a small present.

“I couldn’t wait for you to open it.” Explained the Frenchman.

A little intrigued and at the same time suspicious of his friend's wry smile, Charles put his glass down on the bar and unwrapped the gift. It was a large, beautiful wooden frame with a stunning photo of Lyanna proudly wearing a "Liked by Pierre Gasly" T-shirt and an Alpine cap.

“So that you never forget that she was an Alpine fan first.” Commented Pierre under the laughs of their friends.

“I expect this to be put in your living room so everyone can see it. Or even better, just above your bed. That would be fantastic.”

“I hate you so much sometimes.”

They all continued to laugh together and to drink when something caught Charles’s eyes. A brunette woman that he knew all too well had just walked through the door. What was she doing here? Who invited her? Charles started to make his way towards her.

“Charlotte? What are you doing here?” he asked.

A few metres away, Lyanna had noticed the interaction between Charles and the young woman. A very pretty young woman, she couldn't help thinking.

“Hey, do you know who the girl with Charles is?” she asked to Carmen and Kika.

“Oh… It’s Charlotte. I didn’t know she was coming.” Carmen taught her.

She had never heard of that name. Charles never mentioned someone names Charlotte to her.

“And who is she?” insisted Lyanna.

“Hum… well… she is his ex-girlfriend. They broke up at the end of last year if I reckon.”  Explained Carmen without going into details.

Lyanna observed them for a while and she could not help but feel a hint of jealousy. They were deep in conversation, smiling and laughing with each other. They clearly were comfortable around one another. Charles had his hand on her shoulder and some of his friends came to her to greet her. Not once did Charles look into Lyanna’s direction. Lyanna leapt to her feet, swallowed her drink in one gulp and turned to her two friends, surprised by the sudden change in the young woman's attitude.

“You know what girls? I think it’s time for me to give Charles his present.”

Before she changed her mind and chickened out, she walked over to the stage where the band was playing and whispered a few words to the singer, who let her take his place. As silence fell over the assembly, everyone turned towards her and she caught the surprised glance of Charles who was still at Charlotte's side, except that they had also been joined by his brothers and his mother. Lyanna sat down at the piano and adjusted the microphone before clearing her throat.

“Hi everyone. Oh my God, it’s so weird. I’m not going to take much of your time I just wanted to wish a happy birthday to the man of the day. I sometimes have a hard time finding the right words to say to express what you mean to me and every day a part of me admire you for putting up with me. I don’t know how you do to be this patient. I would have given up on me a long time ago if I were you but you’re somehow still here. So this song is for you. Happy Birthday Charles.”

I promise you salt with the kiss of my lips

I promise you honey with the touch of my hand

I promise you the sky above your bed

Flowers and lace to make your nights sweet

I promise you the key to the secrets of my soul

I promise you life from my laughter to my tears

I promise you fire instead of weapons

No more farewells, only goodbyes

I believe in it like the earth, I believe in it like the sun

I believe in it like a child, like you can believe in heaven

I believe as in your skin, in your arms that hold me tight

I promise you a story unlike any other

I need to believe again

I promise you days as blue as your veins

I promise you nights as red as your dreams

Incandescent hours and white minutes

Carefree seconds to the rhythm of your hips

I promise you my arms to carry your fears

I promise you my hands for you to kiss

I promise you my eyes if you can no longer see

I promise to be happy if you have no hope

I believe in it like the earth, I believe in it like the sun

I believe in it like a child, like you can believe in heaven

I believe in your skin, in your arms that hold me tight

I promise you a story unlike any other

If you help me believe again

And even if it's not true, if you've been told too much

If the words are worn out, as if written in chalk

You can make a big fire by rubbing pebbles together

Maybe with time you'll grow to believe in it

We can just try and see

And even if it's not true, even if I'm lying

If words are worn out, light as wind

And even if our story ends in the morning

I promise you a moment of fever and sweetness

Not all night but a few hours,

I promise you salt with the kiss of my mouth

I promise you honey with the touch of my hand

I promise you the sky above your bed

Flowers and lace to make your nights sweet

The song ended in a whisper. Lyanna's voice trembled, as did her hands. She closed her eyes to try and pull herself together before she felt two arms pulling her against a warm chest.

“You’re my most beautiful birthday gift.” Charles whispered against her cheek.

When she looked at him she could swear he was crying.

=====

Lyanna's song to Charles

author's note: Happy Friday! I loved writing this chapter and I hope you enjoyed it as well. I can't wait to have your thoughts about it... especially now that Charlotte is introduced in the story 👀 As usual, don't forget to leave a comment here, or in the ask box or in the dms if you want to chat more about the story! See you soon for another update.

taglist: @zendayabelova @purplephantomwolf @ru-kru @dakotali @blueflorals @aundercover @ruleroftheuniverse @fangirlika @writerscurse @elijahmikaelsonbitch @leclerc13

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[dontbotherwiththepronunciation]

This escalated a lot, (which was a good distraction from everything so I'm taking that as a good thing), so now I have to give:

Warnings: Discussions and mentions of all the horrible things we warn for in Theon's Plotline, particularly the ones about depersonhood, sexual violence, casual violence, classism, and so on and so on + a few suicide jokes and links to artistic depictions of the aftermath of rape.

I moved a few weeks ago and haven't been able to unpack because I got injured during the moving and my other arm is also fucked up because of something else that happened this year and today I finally got to clean around and actually do stuff and arrange my room and I started with my book shelf, which obviously means I didn't actually do much because I just started rereading whatever book I hadn't seen in a while got to my hands. And after realising that I certainly have a type for narratives and characters I started thinking about Hannah from Until Dawn and how amazing it was to have a dead female character with little to no characterisation that subverted the "haunt the narrative" thing we see in many of the asoiaf girls from the dead ladies club and yeah I am thinking about Kyra again and that is not a good mentality.

Elia and Lyanna are given a personality and a face through those who loved them, they feel real because the pain of those who mourn them feels real. Even Joanna Lannister gets some of that through what little we find out of her.

Kyra is a dead lady but she’s not a member of the Dead Ladies Club™. She doesn’t get that privilege. The only person who thinks of her is Theon and it is not done lovingly.

Kyra has a personality we are not privy too. She is a satellite character that is mentioned exclusively in relation to Theon, even in the exception of Bran's POV. Her existence is conditioned to Theon.

Jeyne Poole, although often called one, isn't a satellite character. From the very beginning of the story she is already a presence in multiple POV character's lives, even if her role in the story and her characterisation is weak; She is Sansa's friend, Arya's bully, even Catelyn mentions her and in relation to Robb, but we don't ever see her interacting with her father and none of those characters seems very concerned of her well-being. I don't even know if Ned was planning on sending her with Arya & Sansa or if she was supposed to stay with her father. She later ascends a bit by becoming a secondary but fundamental character in Theon's POV and the Northern plot.

Kyra however is a blank page with a name. This isn't meant as something derogatory. I still have flashbacks of my 2016 experience in this fandom and the way the only kyra stan I ever met would wage a war on jeyne p fans. This isn't my intention.

With exception of Theon there are four other characters that are mentioned to have interacted with her.

Bessa, another serving wench who is implied to have participated on a threesome with her and Theon some time before Bran V, AGOT (Oooh she and Theon were bi4bi!)

Wex Pyke, is mentioned to have slept at the foot of Theon's bed, a bed on which Kyra slept as well. (Oooh Dog imagery and the implied possible witnessing of rape!)

Ramsay Snow...not going to write that. We all know what happened.

Ben Bones, "[...] Even if we do escape, Lord Ramsay will hunt us down, him and Ben Bones and the girls." generalised statement by Theon during his escape with Jeyne. Ben Bones isn't mentioned in relation to Kyra and him being caught during their failed escape.

These aren't even brief versions of her connections, I'm reaching out with many of them.

What else do we know about her?

Ok. She is a serving wench and probably works at the Smoking Log (Source: Bran)

She blushes easily and seems to be embarrassed by public talks of her sex life (Source: Theon)

She seems like an eager lover and seemed to be excited when Theon first took her to Winterfell (Source: Theon)

She had never been at the castle before (Source: Theon)

She acted as the big spoon as they slept together (Source: Theon)

She still refers to Theon as "M'lord" during early ACOK, even if the aforementioned positioning of the two would have us believe there might be more emotional intimacy or closeness between the two (Source: Theon)

Theon raped her (Source: Theon)

Ramsay possibly raped her (Source: Ramsay saying he wanted to bed her)

She was taken prisoner with the other women and children who were at Winterfell after Ramsay sacked the castle. (Source: Theon)

At some point she managed to set herself free, stole the keys to Theon's cell, liberated him, asked him to help her back to Winterfell and failed (Source: Theon)

She threw a rock at Ramsay when he caught her and Theon again, and missed by a foot (Source: Theon)

She was mauled to death by hounds (Source: Theon)

Ramsay named a hound meant to kill other women during future hunts after her (Source: Theon)

He had run before. Years ago, it seemed, when he still had some strength in him, when he had still been defiant. That time it had been Kyra with the keys. She told him she had stolen them, that she knew a postern gate that was never guarded. "Take me back to Winterfell, m'lord," she begged, pale-faced and trembling. "I don't know the way. I can't escape alone. Come with me, please." And so he had. The gaoler was dead drunk in a puddle of wine, with his breeches down around his ankles. The dungeon door was open and the postern gate had been unguarded, just as she had said. They waited for the moon to go behind a cloud, then slipped from the castle and splashed across the Weeping Water, stumbling over stones, half-frozen by the icy stream. On the far side, he had kissed her. "You've saved us," he said. Fool. Fool. It had all been a trap, a game, a jape. Lord Ramsay loved the chase and preferred to hunt two-legged prey. All night they ran through the darkling wood, but as the sun came up the sound of a distant horn came faintly through the trees, and they heard the baying of a pack of hounds. "We should split up," he told Kyra as the dogs drew closer. "They cannot track us both." The girl was crazed with fear, though, and refused to leave his side, even when he swore that he would raise a host of ironborn and come back for her if she should be the one they followed. Within the hour, they were taken. One dog knocked him to the ground, and a second bit Kyra on the leg as she scrambled up a hillside. The rest surrounded them, baying and snarling, snapping at them every time they moved, holding them there until Ramsay Snow rode up with his huntsmen. He was still a bastard then, not yet a Bolton. "There you are," he said, smiling down at them from the saddle. "You wound me, wandering off like this. Have you grown tired of my hospitality so soon?" That was when Kyra seized a stone and threw it at his head. It missed by a good foot, and Ramsay smiled. "You must be punished." Reek remembered the desperate, frightened look in Kyra's eyes. She had never looked so young as she did in that moment, still half a girl, but there was nothing he could do. She brought them down on us, he thought. If we had separated as I wanted, one of us might have gotten away. - Reek I, ADWD

A few things:

1)

2) Kyra's own involvement

I've often seen people take Theon's inner thoughts as a fact. Most of us are convinced that this was all something Ramsay planned all along, that any possible escape was frustrated from the very beginning. I have often even seen fan works in which Kyra knows and tells Theon that Ramsay is planning to hunt them, but when looking closer to the text I find it difficult to believe that everything was a set up. In Theon's memories he mentions how the gaoler was drunk and had his breeches down, which I think implies that maybe it was Kyra who deliberately planned this. That maybe it was her who orchestrated him getting frunk and eventually also had sex with him, perhaps to get closer and take the keys. "She knew a poster gate that was never guarded" also implies that she wasn't held prisoner in the same way Theon was, but maybe was set up to become a slave/servant like Arya at Harrenhall and spent enough time roaming "free" to notice such things. If this was the case and it was her plan instead of Ramsay (who might or might not have maybe set up her environment and conditioned her thoughts of escape) then I think we can maybe add some other traits to her characterisation; we can assume she is observant, resilient and very brave.

3) I wanted to name this section "The Kiss" but then Klimt came to mind so we are naming it Frame 00:09:31 and Frame 00:09:38 of Belladonna of Sadness (tw the links for artistic depictions of the aftermath of rape)

There is often speculation going on whether the lack of something textual in these books can be seen as proof for something else. Canon romantic Jon/Sansa and the idea that Dany considers the Dothraki subhuman are often backed up by this sort of thought process (I admittedly don't believe in any of the aforementioned examples) but I don’t think we’ve ever seen it used in cases like that of Kyra, where I personally find it more fitting. Particularly when it comes to that scene and how Theon doesn't describe her response. I have always seen people take this as something reciprocal and sometimes even beautiful, and Theon internally chastising himself as he thinks of it is often attributed to thinking there was a chance of escape, when it could as well be him chastising himself because he kissed her without really considering how frightening the entire situation must have been for her. Her reasoning for setting him free is that he knows how to go back, not that she loves him or has forgive him. She is said to tremble as she pleads for help, her face is pale, and I can't help but wonder if part of her fear also came from having to beg her rapist to accompany her in her escape.

Based on her throwing a stone at Ramsay, who probably raped her in the past, I like to believe that when he kissed her she screamed, bit Theon and pushed him away.

4) The Girl

There are a few things in that text about Theon & Kyra that in hindsight remind me of Theon & Jeyne.

Some of it is relatively obvious and I have mentioned it in the past, such as the

"You've saved us," he said. - Reek I, ADWD

"You saved me," Jeyne had whispered, - Theon I, TWOW

and

"We should split up," he told Kyra as the dogs drew closer. "They cannot track us both." The girl was crazed with fear, though, and refused to leave his side, [...] If we had separated as I wanted, one of us might have gotten away. - Reek I, ADWD

"Stay close to me," Jeyne said. "Don't leave me." "I will be right beside you," Theon promised - Theon I, ADWD

but also

"Take me back to Winterfell, m'lord," she begged, pale-faced and trembling. "I don't know the way. I can't escape alone. Come with me, please." - Reek I, ADWD

He put a finger to her lips. "We can talk about that later. You need to be quiet now. Come with us. With me. We will take you away from here. Away from him." - Theon I, ADWD

and

Reek remembered the desperate, frightened look in Kyra's eyes. She had never looked so young as she did in that moment, still half a girl, but there was nothing he could do. - Reek I, ADWD

The eyes of the bride were brown. Big and brown and full of fear. It was not right that she should look to him for rescue.  - The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

Overall my perception of things tells me that there was a drastic change in Theon's character after her death. It is him who this time has comed up with a plan and has to beg/repeatedly ask for someone else to accompany him. Something I find peculiar is how he describes fear being visible through their eyes and the sight of it makes him feel guilt over his lack of agency.

When comparing his behaviour during the failed escape and the flight we see that he no longer plans on leaving Jeyne in order to escape by himself (and we see him prove that during TWOW when he comments on how her ribs broke so HE CARRIED HER jdsfskdjfnsdkjf aren't you supposed to be emaciated???). And while I find that a very noble development, as I consider salvation to be symbiotic, it leads me to wonder:

5) The AU

So many fanworks often depict Theon holding her hand and going ahead as they run, it's a beautiful image but it doesn't follow into what the canon is telling us.

Kyra being the active one in this event, her having to be the one who not only approaches Theon with thoughts of escape but also begs for his help, implying he might have been hesitant at first, she being the one who refuses to leave him although he is set off on their(/his?) chances of a successful escape being higher if they part ways, all this points to him probably not wanting to hold her hand through it, much less lead her through his same path.

And then I think of Theon's promise

The girl was crazed with fear, though, and refused to leave his side, even when he swore that he would raise a host of ironborn and come back for her if she should be the one they followed. - Reek I, ADWD

Would he? Would he have returned with a host if ironborn to get her? I don't think he would have. I don't think he was consciously lying to her or that he would just forget of her and leave with no remorse and never think of her again. I think it would have become inconvenient to return and he would have told himself it is impossible and she would haunt him nonetheless, but what consolation is that for her?

If he had miraculously managed to get to his sister or to Dagmer Cleftjaw, had miraculously managed to rapidly heal and regain his strength, would he have been able to get himself a host of loyal ironborn that would follow him far far far into the land, away from the realms of he who dwells beneath the waves, just to save some random girl he used to bed? Ad given how emotionally constipated is, how introverted, how he rarely displays vulnerability, what could he have said in order to change their mind?

Even her physical appearance, something that Theon, a somewhat libidinous young man, might have remarked on, is omitted. She doesn't have thick auburn hair, which could have made some readers use her as "proof" for him being "psychosexually" (another word most people in here don't know how to define but will use regardless) attracted to Robb/Sansa/Cat. The eyes of the girl aren't "big and brown" for me and a few other delusional people to claim as "foreshadowing" for a future romance. There aren't any mentions of her having a sharp nose that could have made us think of her as a semblance of his own family back at the Islands. There is nothing. She is nothing.

Sometimes we readers attempt to give closure to Kyra through fan work; I have seen art depicting her as a ghost "forgiving" Theon, there are fics in which Theon takes care of the hound that was named after her or (I am guilty of this too) him taking care of Jeyne is somehow seen by the narrative as atonement for his past mistreatment of Kyra. None of these works are inherently bad or disrespectful and I can appreciate what they do and I enjoy many of them (@/ghostlyturncloaks has a very beautiful fic involving Theon and Kyra, the hound), but none of them will give Kyra, the actual Kyra who used to breath and was then killed by hounds, closure because that is simply impossible to do given how she is not a real character compared to those who surround her. When people in this fandom talk about "stanning the girls who suffer/are victims" it is often done either in a holier-than-thou light or in a derogative manner but it never refers to Kyra because Kyra isn't allowed to be a person in the text.

Taking care of Jeyne or the hound won't make things right for her and there are no reasons for her to forgive Theon when Theon refuses to even think of the act with indisputable textual remorse. We can read between the lines and realise that Theon feels guilt, the fact she "and her keys" haunt him is already proof of that, but does he feel guilt for her terrible death, for him raping her, for how little he valued her as a person or for all of these together?

And I don't think that Theon is inherently a bad person for not valuing her and not being interested in her as a person, I think such situations are cruelly casual and rarely intentional. I think most people across their life will come to realise that they should have valued someone more. Our feelings aren't reciprocal and that isn't necessarily a sign of vileness. And, to my shame, I admit that part of my obsession with my unlucky trio of Jeyne, Falia and Kyra is somewhat motivated by my own feelings of depersonalisation and overall worthlessness and irrelevance.

It is difficult to explain, at most I can maybe compare it to the way Dany has managed to appeal to so many woc through her journey. Cersei, Dany, Arya and Sansa are all well written, interesting and profound characters that will go down in history both in and out of universe as such. Kyra won’t, neither will Falia, the Jeynes might have but they weren’t enough and were quickly replaced without many mourning that change in the way we mourn Daenerys' popularised end game as a mad queen or Arya's popularised endgame as a badass assassin without any nuisance. And I can understand why! This anger is purely mine!

With Kyra there is a world to explore, but only as long as Theon is no longer there. We can't give her a respectful characterisation if our only source and voice is that of Theon, if we were to that it would probably be highly ooc. But then again we can't even interact with her without Theon being in the picture. What happened to Bessa? Was she killed during the Winterfell sack? Were they friends? I imagine they were close if the two worked together and also had a threesome. Did she feel fear and maybe a pang of jealousy when she saw her being summoned to the castle to never come back to their inn? Did Kyra have a family? Maybe they were working the fields in the late summer/early autumn and were hoping to see her in winter again. I will be arrogant by referring to the images meme I recently made for her but yeah, Nathaniel Russel's fake fliers you will go down in my memory:

Even something as benign and well meaning as giving her a face, be it by a film/show/comic-adaptation or fan art, is somewhat counterproductive to what I think might have been aimed by the writer through her being a faceless pain. A face can make someone become sympathetic or interesting, meanwhile Kyra is pain unbridled and without any mentioned outer or inner beauty to get us to be invested in her. I might have my headcanons for her, with and without Theon, but I am not meant to have them.

The most common Tumblr tag for the sharing of Kyra related posts is "#kyra and her keys" and although this will be perceived by may as a holier than thou attitude I think it speaks on itself that we readers, the few readers who care enough about Kyra to dedicate a post to her, have decided to refer to her with a concept Theon chose for her. We define her through Theon without any real consideration for her own feelings. "#kyra asoiaf" has about three posts last I checked.

[a-libra-writes]

could you do one of those ranking/categorize thingies for how the got characters try to impress their love interest? like who tries way too hard to impress them, or who thinks they’re too cool to impress their love interest. thought that would be fun :) i hope you have the most wonderful day 🍀

yes these are fun/silly to do LOL. hope ur day is good too!

Tries Too Hard and It Is Embarrassing: Jaime, Theon On a Bad Day

Tries Too Hard, But It's Cute: Theon on a Good Day, Jorah, Brienne

Definitely Thinks They're Too Cool to Do This but ALSO Wants to Anyway So It's Extra Pathetic: Also Also Jaime (he's complicated okay), Theon On Most Days, Petyr (but he's actually better at it compared to those dingdongs), Brandon (But It's actually wholesome)

Tries And The Results Are Mildly Terrifying: Ramsay .... Euron ....

Tries Their Best And Do Well Because They're Just So Damn Sweet and Devoted: Robb, Edmure, Ned, Sansa, Brynden

Isn't Overthinking Or Trying Too Hard And Ends Up Impressing By Accident As a Result: Stannis, Daenerys, Ashara, Oberyn, Brandon when he's being chill

Doesn't Try At All Yet Still Impresses On The Regular: Asha, Tywin, Arianne, Arthur, Petyr (On his good days), Benjen, Margaery

Doesn't Try So Not Much Impressing But Sometimes They Impress By Sheer Luck (Which They Probably Don't Notice): Victarion, Roose, Bronn, Mance, Balon Swann

Has No Idea Where To Begin With Trying So They Just. Kinda Keep Doing What They're Doing: Victarion (again), Edd, Jon On Some Days, Lyanna

Wants To Try But Thinks They Shouldn't Bother And Doesn't Realize They're Doing Great Sweetie: Tyrion, Jon On Most Days, Davos, Jorah, Brienne

[esther-dot]

I'm the 2011/2013 Tumblr anon, and this is kind of embarrassing to admit but I'm also the original Dune anon, if that gives you any idea of my fandom background. (*/ω＼*) I've been in fandom since I was probably eleven or twelve, so fandom is basically home to me lol. I was always more of a sci-fi fan than a fantasy fan growing up, and so it wasn't until GOT I heard of the books; I'd never been a fan of the show, and I was impartial at best to the books. (At school, I knew classmates were reading them--- but for full context, I was a nerd disliked by other nerds for being too weird, so I wanted nothing to do with Tolkien/GRRM lol). I still have a bone to pick with GRRM (and this is partly what limits my participation) and in the case of my regular fandom, I'm very much used to isolation lol. (It's alt-right trolls who have a problem with me... sigh. Imagine a ship like Jonsa which redeems the books' thematic ideas and that's my situation).

I actually was familiar with the Sansa/Sandor ship long before I was interested in either media, because of the shipping circles I run in. Going from that lack of context to the context revealed in the actual books was very weird, because they seem like extremely disparate concepts. If you take Sansa/Sandor scenes and rearrange things, including the numbers in Sansa's age, it does feel like a powerfully violent BatB rendering with a dash of medieval pseudorealism; he's no prince and the romance is impossible, but perhaps he could be her knight or guardian in an unconsummated chaste romance or secret affair etc. It made me really rethink some of the ships I was interested in, and why, and where my tastes diverged from people I usually trusted. I am much less interested in ship archetypes by themselves than how those are enshrined in the narrative/themes at stake. It's also just interesting to me that Jonsa is an arguably truer, redeeming rendering of BatB, or a revisitation of that theme--- which GRRM is interested in, Sansa/Sandor fans are correct about that, but I think it's foreshadowing a future arc for her. Surely all the BatB exploration is being set up for something big?

So how did I find Jonsa.... well, it was a consequence of reading the books lol, though I imagine many people would say the show was illuminating (which is no condemnation that antis think it is). My interest in the books was primarily piqued through the show's ending--- I came to things rather late, but I'm thankful for that, considering that it seems like some of the best fandom discourse has taken place since then. I was mostly interested in it for the purposes of comparison of adaptation, which I find very interesting, and because I find predicting endgames in general very fun albeit painful. I watch a lot of things just to see what my instinctual feeling is because I like practising my narrative divination. I like engaging with storytelling! But I do have a mechanical fascination with it as well. I think this motivated my sending an ask about Dune to both you and transdimensional-void, mostly because the thing that often leads me in the right direction is getting a 'feeling' for the tone of something--- sometimes even beyond pure narrative reasoning. Lol

You'd ordinarily think the show would be offputting to a Jonsa theory (and this is a major spanner in the works, although I do kind of only semi-ironically believe they paired Jon with D/aenerys because E/milia Clarke is shorter than Kit H/arrington, where S/ophie is too tall, which they couldn't have predicted before being informed about a potential Jonsa resolution--- when in doubt, assume stupidity) but Jonsa is also deliciously ironic and tragic even if redeemed through an actual marriage (and we have so many weddings, over and over, that a symbolic redemption of Rhaegar/Lyanna's wound is basically being begged for--- Lyanna is realised in many ways in the story, through both Arya and Sansa... but it makes sense they'd redeem two sides to Lyanna, the wild wolfgirl and the girl married to a dragon. The wound inflicted through Rhaegar's absconding with Lyanna has to be redeemed, whether that is positively or shirking the possibility of a Lyanna/Rhaegar union altogether, so the door is open for tragic Jonsa in my eyes. These types of narrative questions are what I look out for when predicting narrative resolutions and is what led to me to seriously consider Jonsa). I was meditating on this recently because people were asking whether Cat and Ned would approve, and the marriage is only possible because they're dead. A Jon/Sansa arrangement is only possible because they have lost the people they loved most, and perhaps--- like I've seen suggested!--- it might even drive Arya away. As a writer, that, to me, is how you make Ned and Catelyn's deaths in the story echo in a bittersweet way. It's good storytelling. It goes beyond 'and we re-enact the lessons of parents' which is the normal way you'd realise parental remembrance and legacy. And something tells me GRRM isn't interested in predictability. Unless you've read Gothic literature.

So, beyond Jonsa I'm very interested in the reasoning underpinning the show's derivations, and in my case I'm much more interested in Jonsa in the books than the show (that wasn't really what did it), though in the case of the show, I'm interested in where you can potentially see reflections of a book dynamic. But so much of the adaptation is muddied that it's hard to parse, and I'm really not sure how much of GRRM's suggestions they truly had versus what they stuck to. If they knew they needed 'a Jon romance', in the same way as they needed Robb to break his wedding pact with the Freys, but supplemented Talisa, what was motivating their decisionmaking? D/aenerys was the selling star of the show and basically the face of it, and the face of the merchandise and the cultural conversation etc. (which is why they made her death punishing--- the storytelling is so spiteful, and normally I'm a villain apologist through and through, but this case was particularly egregious) and it would seem silly not to give her a romance, because how can you write important female characters without romance? Now, I'm a perennial romance apologist, but the thinking here, to me, seems rather suspicious. So, I think what's special about ASOIAF right now is we've got a theoretical ending through the show, but where does that translate to the books? And where does the fandom get it wrong, and where do they get it right? The historic ubiquity of Sansa/Sandor, and many other fandom trends (e.g. D/aenerys is the rightful ruler, or tragic heroine, and so on) is kind of like honey to me, because all of those theories were completely blown out of the water by the show, but critically--- critically--- there's still room for expansion in the book for other directions. I was put off by simplistic interpretations of the books that floated around and when I read them the fandom characterisation, crossplatform, was actually shocking to me.

Since you asked--- and I'm terribly sorry--- I have a lot of feelings about when TWOW may or may not come out, not just because of anticipation, but because GRRM's authorial struggle is hard to watch through the eyes of fandom. The condemnation of his procrastination, his apparent carelessness--- that he 'took the money and ran'--- the hopelessness--- it's very hard to watch, and what I wonder is how he feels as a writer. Releasing TWOW will lead him into the final endgame, and he'll have to say goodbye to his magnum opus. That is very hard, beyond the show sailing ahead, and beyond anything else. It also gets to me in a personal way (which no one else can help!) because I am a writer trying to finish a long work, and I'm literally at the equivalent point GRRM is, and--- although he's a celebrated published author, and I'm writing for the sole joy of it--- I think that there is probably something fundamentally similar there, which is that holy fuck it's hard. It doesn't matter how much you know what you need to do, doing it is hard, and writing itself is actually an extremely difficult task. And by writing that means formulating ideas, as well as actual finger to DOS machine.

Writing sometimes is kind of like trying to paint a person, except you've never seen a human being before.

But I think that if GRRM is really committed to his bittersweet romanticism, he can pull off a goodbye, lol. And as much as I quibble with his narrative ethos and sometimes he makes me tear my hair out, I want to see him complete his work, because I think every single author deserves that. And because I think that at a minimum, for something like ASOIAF, the legacy of its ending ought to be his final say. I can't speak to his actual psyche but I do fully believe if he can publish TWOW, he can do ADOS. My observation is that TWOW is structurally much more difficult than ADOS, and I think that's one of many reasons he's been dragging his heels, long before the show caught up. Once he gets to the victory lap of ADOS, he will probably have both a professionally and emotionally easier time in terms of having to finish it. TWOW merges the split threads of AFFC and ADWD, whereas ADOS will only have to follow through (touch wood) on the one book, where many perspectives and their storylines will have converged--- at some point, we may have Sansa, Jon, and Brienne all unified! Which resolves character goals as well as being more economic with POV distribution. This is the angle I find very interesting because I think the way he uses character chapters to establish context and meaning beyond pure character is actually genius and rarely done so well in genre fiction, and I'm completely envious of it. (This is also why Jon/Sansa makes so much sense).

This is a terribly long ask so please don't feel the need to respond line by line, lol. I think I got a little excited! Having a positive fandom interaction is so nice. It's really weird that fandom has become such a polarised place (I mean, we had ship wars, but people kept to themselves more), and you're lucky Jonsa is your first fandom--- well, outside of the anti-Jonsas--- because I think it's a lovely place.

This goes for any Jonsa reading it: thank you all for literally keeping me sane. 🥰🥰🥰🥰 If I may ask, Esther, I think you've said that you came to Jonsa through the show then the books--- what drew you to Tumblr fandom? I'm always interested in how people find fandom!

Dune, anon! I'll tag @transdimensional-void because your convo about it did make me finally watch Dune (although I still don't think I'll read the book, sorry!), but the film was gorgeous. I didn't realize the director was Villeneuve. He always has very interesting projects and arresting visuals. Arrival was such a surprising take on an alien movie and it has really stayed with me. I think he has exquisite pacing, too.

Well now I’m even more concerned about the attempted doxing! Horrifying. The internet can be a wonderful thing, but I swear, it brings out the absolute worst in people.

I totally get what you mean about S*nsan seemingly being a BatB thing, but I’ve suggested before that it’s more in line with one of the old monster movies or even King Kong which love to pair something terrifying with a beautiful woman or little girl. It doesn’t mean romance, it’s the juxtaposition of extremes, raw power being stopped by beauty, violence being calmed by gentleness. There’s that line at the end of King Kong, “It was beauty killed the beast.” IMO, the beast and beauty idea is certainly there for the Hound and Sansa, I just don't think it's Disney's Beauty and the Beast. It's a highly romanticized idea, but not a romance in the way we use the term now.

My parents are both huge readers, not really into novels. My dad liked The Hobbit and LOTR tho, and got really into doing dramatic readings of those at bedtime for us kids. I remember The Hobbit the best because he’d make up tunes for all the songs and sing them. They’re very nostalgic for me, that love extends to the LOTR movies, but made it impossible for me to sit through the Hobbit adaptation. Anyway, I read a few sci fi and fantasy books, but I never really got into it. My little sister on the other hand luuuuurrrvs fantasy and she was the one who got me to watch GoT (I’d heard of the books, hadn’t read them) together, but then we ended up living in different states and she decided that it should be our thing to avoid spoilers and only watch the show when we got together. So, we were always running behind from that point on, but we made it through s5 that way. Eventually we just didn’t have the time to do that, and she was so disgusted with s5 she was happy to drop it completely--never watched another episode. I was too invested to stop, so I watched s6-7 myself and was simply appalled by the characterization of Jon. It made me get online for GoT content for the first time. This was in 2018. I saw that Martin gave interviews saying the show’s ending would be his ending, so I a) sped read the books, b) started listening to some of his interviews, c) saw the term “Jonsa” for the first time in the comments of one.

It took nothing to get me onboard because Jon and Sansa were my favorites, I really loved their scenes together, I hated everything after they separated in s7, and I read a lot of 19th century lit as a teenager, so cousin marriage didn't even strike me as weird in the historical context. I can't remember which meta it was I read first, one of Fedon's or blindestspot's prediction of a Jonsa reunion and marriage from 2013, but I got on tumblr and was totally sucked into the fandom.

“I do kind of only semi-ironically believe they paired Jon with D/aenerys because E/milia Clarke is shorter than Kit H/arrington, where S/ophie is too tall”  — I’m screaming. D&D @ Kit: "Sorry buddy, if you didn’t want your character to fall in love with a mass murdering tyrant you should have kept growing." lmaooooo.

“Jonsa is also deliciously ironic and tragic even if redeemed through an actual marriage (and we have so many weddings, over and over, that a symbolic redemption of Rhaegar/Lyanna's wound is basically being begged for--- Lyanna is realised in many ways in the story, through both Arya and Sansa... but it makes sense they'd redeem two sides to Lyanna, the wild wolfgirl and the girl married to a dragon. The wound inflicted through Rhaegar's absconding with Lyanna has to be redeemed, whether that is positively or shirking the possibility of a Lyanna/Rhaegar union altogether, so the door is open for tragic Jonsa in my eyes.” --You put this so beautifully. I wish you'd get a side blog and post that in the Jonsa tag, I love it!

One of the major puzzles to me is how the fandom all know just how much the text talks to itself, it's notably self-referential, so the way they dismiss the idea of Rhaegar's son and a Stark girl romance...I have a really hard time believing they don't see the logic there, how it would bring things full circle. The way they treat S*nsan as "practically canon" while calling Jonsa a crack ship when we have that hanging over our heads is a little incomprehensible.

“I was meditating on this recently because people were asking whether Cat and Ned would approve, and the marriage is only possible because they're dead. A Jon/Sansa arrangement is only possible because they have lost the people they loved most, and perhaps--- like I've seen suggested!--- it might even drive Arya away.” --I agree with this too. I am very struck by how NedCat, some of the best people and one of the best relationships Martin offers, has this pain and tragedy written into their love. That's a big reason why I can't quite get on board with an easy resolution to Jonsa, because Martin is just drawn to conflict which is why his characters and story is so compelling, but also makes me think, there will be layers to Jonsa, some real pain there.

“And something tells me GRRM isn't interested in predictability. Unless you've read Gothic literature.” — I once posted a list of gothic lit tropes and he’s included all of them. But Gothic heavily influenced horror, and ASOIAF has horror elements, so that isn't totally surprising when you think about it. It still amuses me though!

It’s definitely a real struggle to see the sense behind D&D’s choices but when I was reading an interview looking for a specific quote, I did see that even in 2011 Martin was saying he knew the endgames, which is a) comforting for Sansa ending up safely in Winterfell purposes, b) reassuring for Dark Dany believers, c) hilarious when you think about how many people are still pissed about Arya and Bran’s fates. And Jon? Well, I’ve made my peace with a tragic ending (although I’ve mocked it a great deal too because I can't see how it works), but we all know they fucked him over the most in s7-8, so I could also see D&D trashing what his ending was meant to be in favor of catering to Targ fans. Apparently Emilia has recently reiterated her frustration that Jon “got away” with killing Dany, so like…imagine the rage if he’d killed Dany and then got a HEA in Winterfell. 

My feeling is that Martin told them Jon would kill Dany and they chose to do "the romance" (which imo, they didn't like because the way they wrote and filmed it and permitted Kit to act it just...sabotaged it in every way imaginable) to make it more palatable to her fans who ate it up. They actually are comforted that Jon "loved" Dany and after s8 dropped pics/gifs of him cradling her dead body into our tag bragging that he loved her. Like, D&D made really crappy choices, but I think it was about manhandling their audience while hitting Martin's plot points they knew the Targ fans would hate, not a result of them throwing out the endgames.

“ The condemnation of his procrastination, his apparent carelessness--- that he 'took the money and ran' --I’m not a Martin defender, I have real reservations with some of his choices, but I have family his age and do try to think of him as a person. I find a lot of how people speak of him...well, I have no issue with people being frustrated we don't have TWOW considering how long ago he said he'd finish it (like, back in 2016) and how often since then he's indicated getting close to the end only for it to then sound like he's quite a ways away. As long as people don't harass him, I don't think it's an issue to talk about this in fandom spaces. However, they often sound ignorant of what it takes to write something like ASOIAF, with all the levels he's trying to work on. Also, his writing style sounds like a total nightmare? The idea of tearing things up to fix them seems hopeless to me, and he’s talked about doing this repeatedly—it would be so hard to finish a chapter or several and then realize, nope, gotta rework all of it.

“because I am a writer trying to finish a long work, and I'm literally at the equivalent point GRRM is, and--- although he's a celebrated published author, and I'm writing for the sole joy of it--- I think that there is probably something fundamentally similar there, which is that holy fuck it's hard.” --Oh ho ho! Well, you know that’s gonna make me have all sorts of questions, so if you want to tell me about your work (genre, tome or series, influences, themes etc) I am all ears, but I also know some writers have to keep all that to themselves until they’re done so I won’t pry. Although, because of our exchanges, I would be interested in how you use romance in your own writing.

“writing itself is actually an extremely difficult task” // “Writing sometimes is kind of like trying to paint a person, except you've never seen a human being before.” —dead! I think the issue is, many people don’t distinguish between types of writing? So someone doesn’t distinguish between the goal and what say, a modern romance is attempting to accomplish versus a Jane Austen novel. They might end the evaluation at "like or didn't" and not grasp what all goes into different types of novels, their individual successes or failures, and why some novelists can complete multiple novels in a year, another might spend a few years on one. I think about this a lot when I see people suggest Martin get some ghost writers, and like, this man isn’t churning out genre fiction (which I love, I was a snob as a teen and cured myself, but it is an entirely different kind of writing!), so it's just...a lot of fans totally misjudge the effort required and how easily replicated the work would be.

“I think that at a minimum, for something like ASOIAF, the legacy of its ending ought to be his final say” --I find it incredibly sad every year that goes by and the chance of him completing his series dwindles. People forget that what holds sway over a culture doesn’t always have staying power and a) I think his work is doomed to being forever misinterpreted unless he finishes and b) I don’t think he’ll have accomplished what he wanted to regarding elevating fantasy / getting it the respect he believes it deserves unless he gets to that ending. It's a shame.

I enjoyed reading all your thoughts on Jonsa, the ideas it touches on and how GoT/ASOIAF might differ. Thank you!

[katshuya]

I'm sure I'm not the only one who is astonished with the very clever arguments and discussions Rhaelya's supporters write and the oh so-called neutrals who are just TOO LOGICAL to blame Rhaegar. He is just a grey character, and we just lack criticism.

How? Well!

Rhaegar isn't to blame because in a dream, he and other kingsguard said it was Jaime's fault. You see how logical it is? The author hints it, so it's the logic truth.

Jaime is the real reason why Elia and her children are dead because he was a kingsguard and being the single sole protector of Elia and her children against his father's army means nothing. Apparently, he can hold them all off with a single command.

Dragonstone is very safe from Aerys even though he is the king, and with single command, they could be brought to him.

Rhaegar took all kingsguard to the Trident because it was war. And in war, you need to win, so you take every knight to assure your winning and leave your family guarded with a single knight who is also under pressure of obeying the king and even if he didn't he is still outnumbered and could be killed or held off.

We can't blame Rhaegar for abandoning them in kingslanding. Why? Because he thought he was going to win! He had a plan. You see?!

And we can't blame him for the rebellion. Why? Because in a different scenario in my mind, it could have been sparked by someone else in different ways! So we can't blame the people responsible for the original scenario.

Anything George says or thinks is the right and logical one, and we can't criticize it for being ridiculous. Because the writer is always right about what he writes. I mean, so what if he thinks dany x drogo was hella sexy? We should think it so, too!

Daemon killing his wife is grey morality.

And many other things, he says, but let's not get into that for now.

So yes. If George says something is logical, then it's logical.

It's very natural for Elia not to feel sad or humiliated when Rhaegar goes to another girl, especially after endangering her life to give him the prophecy children one after another. Her PaLAtOnIC feelings toward him made her ready to risk her life in that certain way. One after another when she had delicate health. She endangered herself with no rest between pregnancies because of these PALATONIC feelings! She wanted to be queen, which is what made her do that, too. There is absolutely no way for her to be hurt. That's just ilogical. Especially for a Dornish.

I read a post from a proclaimed neutral, and oh my god. I just don't understand the ability of these people to write these posts and not feel embarrassed with how logical and unbiased they are.

Let me tell you something. Someone who claims logic will not say Rhaegar never hurt Elia with Lyanna and/or she was totally fine with it.

That's a covered lie. They just like Rhaegar way more than Elia. Not necessary a stan. Simply like him and want others to believe in that supposed logic.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Unpredictable // Chapter Two

Ian Malcolm x Original Female Character / masterlist / read it on ao3

Chapter Summary: Alan, Ellie and Lyanna meet key investor John Hammond who has an interesting proposition for the three of them...

Unpredictable tag list: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

When the helicopter didn't land a safe distance away from the uncovered dig, Alan, Ellie and Lyanna began to panic. Lyanna and Ellie shot off towards the dig and Alan took off to, well, take the head off the pilot, if Lyanna had to guess.

While Alan ran towards the landing chopper to get them to shut down the machine that was blowing sand all over the place and damaging the finds, Ellie and Lyanna ran to cover the historical site as fast as they could.

"Cover the site!" Lyanna all but screamed, reaching the area. She skidded to a stop, crashing painfully down onto the ground and reaching for the plastic tarp designed to weather winds and storms. The fossils may be stone, but they were easily damaged. Pain shot up her legs and she knew she’d have some very impressive bruises later on. With a quick readjustment of her positioning, she got to work.

She pulled the tarp over the fossilised bone as fast as she could with the help of some of the other volunteers. They tied it safely down to make sure it wouldn't fly off when Lyanna removed her hands. Ellie winced as sand whipped sharp as glass against her bare arms.

After the dig was secure, Lyanna stood up and strode over towards Alan and Ellie's RV, angry as she’d ever been. Landing so close to a valuable dig like this one- she could understand if it were an emergency, but as far as she knew, no one had called for emergency services.

By the same token, however, Lyanna knew that they didn't get all that many visitors this far out of town, particularly in the dead of Summer as it was right now, so whoever it was and whatever they wanted, it had to be either incredibly good or incredibly bad.

She practically jumped up the few sand-worn steps and all but yanked the door off its hinges in her haste to get inside and get to the bottom of what was actually going on here. Frustration coloured her cheeks, and there was sand in her eye that she couldn't rub out because the rest of her was also, surprise surprise, covered in sand, too.

"Alright. Who's the stupid fuck who-" Lyanna was cut off by her uncle who raised his hand in alarm, silently telling her to shut up. Lyanna clenched her jaw but did as she was told, glaring daggers. She'd definitely grown up with her mothers' temper.

"Ah, this is Lyanna Grant, my niece and one of our best," Alan said hastily, clapping a hand on her shoulder to knock her out of her stupor. Lyanna forced herself to wipe her angered expression from her face and pressed her lips into a tight smile.

"Lyanna, this is John Hammond," he said with an edge to his voice that stressed that Lyanna needed to be nice to the man before him. Lyanna had to think for a minute to figure out why that name sounded so familiar to her. 

"Oh,” she said, realising who the elderly man was. "Oh my god, I am so sorry about how I behaved just now," she apologised profusely, doing her best to dust off her hand on her jean shorts before shaking his own. An embarrassed flush appeared over her cheeks, forced smile turning awfully sheepish but no one was able to tell through the dust and grime coating her skin.

John Hammond was one of the main funders of their digs. He paid fifty thousand dollars a year to keep Alan’s projects from becoming bankrupt and essentially abandoned. No one said archaeology was an abounding field, unfortunately. Digs needed investors, and investors needed money.

Lyanna noticed that the old man had opened the bottle of champagne that the three of them had been saving and she frowned, though quickly covered it back up with a bashful expression. Given that he was currently funding their careers, she supposed he was entitled enough to their celebratory bottles if he wanted them. 

"Would you like a drink?" He asked her, raising the bottle and smiling. Without waiting for an answer, John fussed around the kitchen, getting Lyanna a glass of the sparkling liquid. She took in his appearance. He was wearing mostly white which she thought wasn’t such a good idea in the dusty Badlands. It would only take about five minutes before his pristine clothes were a sandy yellow. But that wasn’t her business, and she doubted a man like him would want to stay long enough to get his hands dirty anyway. Not that Lyanna would complain. Who liked having their bosses boss around?

"I'm sorry about the dramatic entrance," John apologised, interrupting Lyanna’s thoughts and handing her the glass, "but we were in a rush." Lyanna set her jaw. In such a rush they couldn’t land on the designated landing strip, it would seem. Then again, he paid for the circus so she supposed it was his prerogative to damage the lions if he wanted to.

"I've read your book, Lyanna. It was very thorough and informative," Hammond continued without waiting for a reply, lifting a finger from his glass to point at her.

"I aim to please," she smiled, unsure of where he was going with this, but still honoured to know he’d put the effort in to read her work. Always good to meet a fan, as they say.

"Yes, well, let's get right down to business," he paused, taking another sip from his glass. Behind her, Lyanna saw a flash of Ellie's blonde hair. She hadn't realised that she had joined them inside. Perhaps she'd only just got there.

"I like you. All of you," he paused to look at the three of them individually.

"I own an island off the coast of Costa Rica. I've leased it from the government and during the last five years, I've been setting up a biological preserve of sorts. Really spectacular. Spared no expense," he smiled wide, showing them his yellowing teeth. Lyanna fought the urge to squint suspiciously at the man. This was great and all, but if he wanted them to know about his new island, he could have sent an email. 

"It makes the one I've got down in Kenya look like a petting zoo. And there's no doubt that our attractions will drive kids out of their minds," he exclaimed excitedly, not taking pause to note their hesitantly curious expressions.

"What are those?" Alan asked, resting his hand on his knee.

"Small versions of adults, honey." Ellie sarcastically whispered to him in answer. Alan gave her a look before turning back to John. 

"We're planning to open next year but that's if the lawyers don't kill me first," John chuckled, rambling on. "I've got a particular one at the moment who's being a thorn in my side. He represents my investors. He says we need outside opinions," John shook his head irritably.

 

"What kind of opinions?" Lyanna asked, crossing her arms and taking a sip of her drink, becoming more interested in the old man's rambling by the second. What could any of this possibly have to do with their dig?

"Well, your kind, not to put too fine a point on it," he shifted his weight and took another sip, swallowing before he continued. "Let's face it, in your particular fields, you are the top minds- and if I could just persuade you to sign off on the park, give it your endorsement..." he trailed off for suspense.

"I could get back on schedule," he finished, eyes flashing between the three dusty scientists before him. 

"Why would they care what we think?" Ellie spoke up. At that, Lyanna raised her eyebrow. It was a fair question. Was it some sort of reptile zoo? Or a fancy museum? But then why would either of those need to be on their own secluded island?

"Yeah, what kind of park is this?" Alan added. They were both good questions. Ones that Lyanna had been wondering herself.

"It's right up your alley," John said conspiratorially, a knowing smile growing across his cheeks. That piqued Lyanna’s interest. Up their alley? They were palaeontologists... up their alley were dusty bones and fossilised remains... Maybe it was a museum then.

"Tell you what. Why don't the three of you come down for the weekend? I'd love to have the opinion of an extra palaeontologist as well," he said, gesturing to the three of us.

"I've got a jet standing by at Chateau," he explained, jumping onto the bench behind him and pouring himself another glass once he was seated.

"I don't know. I mean, we just dug up a new skeleton..." Alan trailed off, understandably hesitant. On top of that, they had only just met the man in person as well.

"I'd fully compensate you by fully funding your dig..."

"This is a very unusual time too..." Ellie added, looking justifiably unsure.

"For a further three years," John finished.

Lyanna turned to Ellie and Alan and seeing the hesitant but excited looks on their faces, she knew that Hammond had won them over. Money was an extremely powerful persuasion tool. And archaeology digs were expensive. Soon enough they were bound to run out of fresh-faced volunteers looking for a fun time. 

They began to jump and laugh excitedly. Ellie turned and gestured for Lyanna to join them.

"Oh no. I'm not the hugging type," Lyanna tried to reason, the infectious joy eating away at her resolve. Ellie didn't listen though and brought the both of them to Lyanna who chuckled and joined the group hug.

After the excitement dissipated, Lyanna escaped the tight hold that the two of them had on her and turned back to Hammond, who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"When's the plane leave?" she grinned right back.

[thewitchqueenofharrenhal]

This probably isn't the space to do this but as someone who likes your blog and is choosing to part ways with hotd fandom, and you do discuss the "team discourse' and thought I'd leave this here. I'm done with this show and fandom.

The amount of if you like team (insert) here you are morally bankrupt is so...frustrating on its own. But the fact that the entire fandom cannot seem to not compare fiction to real life tragedies and horrors on this level, the bullying, the callout posts, Valaryian being used a sneaky way to be racists towards nettles, laena and laenor, white feminism being promoted and normalized so aggressively, the homophobia laenor faces from both teams, how you cannot claim both teams are bad without being accused of deflecting or preached to about one team not being as bad as the other, you cannot critique any Targaryen's unless come out lyanna or alicent's impure bloodline.

Not to mention how stans come for you throat if you mention daemyra isn't healthy or Daemyra/daemon make you uncomfortable.

This adaptation is too season 7 of GoT to be worth this much trouble. But tbh, as I announce my exit like a cringy karen, I just hope Ewan, Tom and Phia's media hate doesn't effect their careers because they are some of the best talent in the show to do what they did with so little given to them to work with; And to any blacks wanting to come into the notes proud there bullied a green out the fandom. I can't wait for Jon Snow to choose his sisters and end the targ line in the unreleased books spoilers that will leak after grrm dies. And i hope the f&b 2 draft is on the same shelf as the WoW.

Nooooooo, this made me really sad :(

I had two lines of thought reading this. First I'm really bummed out you feel that way, it's always a shame when we lose normal, (normal isn't an insult in this fandom lol), interesting, great people in the fandom. It seems like people who just want to interact with media and enjoy something that's suppose to be fun (fandom) always end up leaving and the worst people always tend to stay and get venerated in this fandom for just being awful. I'm really sorry to see you go!.

At the same time, I completely understand your frustration and feelings. I don't know why but the ASOIAF/GOT/HOTD fandom has a real problem with attracting honestly just really vile individuals. I want to blame it on this being a fandom that has been waiting for over a decade but I even at times feel embarrassed that my favorite book series is one *those* people claim to *love* as well. (By those people I mean what you reference - individuals who use this fandom to spout to the most vile racist, sexist, homophobic, overall weird ass takes).

It can become too much. Especially when fandom is supposed to be fun, hell even GRRM himself subtly pointed out how fandom seems to be ran by anti fans now who make fandom just not a fun place to be in. Ultimately the issues in the fandom you mentioned are very real and nothing minor. I would encourage you to put your health, safety, and happiness first. I recently took a small break, and if you ever want to come back I promise there are corners of the fandom that are for lack of a better word normal.

I don't think you're being a Karen, lol. It's fair to be frustrated with everything you mentioned. I don't think you have to worry on that end, the cast of HOTD live extremely fantastic lives compared to those who sit around hating on them lol. They will be just fine and they're talented individuals. I deeply encourage you to step back from this fandom, let go of that team idea, I know it's very pervasive in the HOTD fandom, but really it's not real, lol. People just really like tribalism on both ends and want to feel important in one way or another.

IJBOL, not gonna lie the little digs thrown in at the end before you head out made me laugh!. Unfortunately I disagree with you on that end I really like Daenerys and I hope she lives a long life. LMAO and I hope I get to see more books from GRRM but I understand you might not be feeling the nicest right now LOL. Stay strong friend. I know this fandom sucks, but don't let it discourage you from enjoying what you like.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Promises

Pairing(s): Oberyn Martell x Targaryen!Reader, Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand, Rhaegar Targaryen x Elia Martell, Rhaegar Targaryen x Lyanna Stark

Warnings: mentions of Elia's r@p3, mentions of child death, PTSD, trauma, niece reader

Words: 2535

Summary: Having witnessed the brutal murder of your family, your uncle Oberyn is the only one to fend off your nightmares and the only one you could ever feel an attachment to.

Like any other night, you woke up with sweat dripping down your body and soaking into your bedsheets. You felt stuck between your world of sleep and the real world which you had thrusted yourself back into. A jolted mind made the shadows in your chambers writhe like the bodies of your mother, sister and baby brother. Worst of all, in the looming corner looked like the form of Gregor Clegane, the man whom people fearfully called the Mountain. A mountain he was indeed and you felt powerless even if you knew he wasn’t actually there.

You shook uncontrollably, tears rolling down your face as you were forced to experience the worst night of your life over and over again. It was enough to make any person go insane. The screams of your mother Elia, the sickening crushing sound of Aegon’s skull. . . You could even smell the blood.

You covered your nose and mouth, rocking back and forth in your bed as you fought the sob.

It was just a dream. Just a dream.

But it wasn’t. It was a cruel memory and a reminder of why you were now living in Sunspear with your mother’s family. Your’s had been taken from you.

Thankfully you had someone constantly watching over you, at the ready to calm you. Your uncle Oberyn Martell. You didn’t know how he was always seconds away after you’d wake up from your nightmare, but there he was storming into your room. Bare chested and long black hair tousled from sleep and having abruptly woken up.

He was slightly out of breath, hastily lighting a candle to illuminate your room and scare off the shadows.

“I-I’m sorry.” voice muffled against your hand, it was the only thing you could do to hide the quivering of your voice. Every time, you were embarrassed. After all you were already a young lady at the sweet age of ten and six. You shouldn’t require the comfort of your uncle to calm you down like a fussy infant.

“Sssh, do not apologize.” You couldn’t refuse his gentle tone and safe embrace. He was all you had left of your mother and vice versa. Oberyn approached your bed and you slid to make room for him. Easily, Oberyn takes the spot next to you and gathers your trembling body in his muscled arms. “I am here, (y/n). I won’t ever leave your side. No one will hurt you as long as I’m alive. I promise.”

The kiss he gifts you on the crown of your head was enough to dry your eyes. You trusted him. Trusted him more than anyone in the entire world. His promise was good as gold.

You clung to him tightly. The memories of that night haunted you and you knew they would never go away. It was too terrible to ever erase no matter how hard you tried. Something you and Oberyn had in common. He was the one who had found you locked in your mother’s chest that was at the edge of her bed; wide eyed and traumatized. The things you had heard and witnessed from the lock’s keyhole prevented you from sleeping the following weeks after your rescue. A rescue that you had given up on after hours of being cooped up in there. That was until you heard your beloved uncle’s voice. When you heard him you cried out loud and banged your little fists against the wood walls of the box. Your body had been missing when Tywin had presented your family’s bodies to Robert Baratheon, the new ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

The question was immediate: where was the first born daughter of Rhaegar and Elia?

You remembered Gregor Clegane roaring as he raped your mother “Where is the other girl?!” Elia refused to tell him, despite her horrendous screams that had made you sick to your stomach. In the end, Gregor gave up and crushed her skull like he did to your newborn brother Aegon.

If you had wept during their murders you knew your fate would have been the same. So you quieted every bit of heart break that you experienced.

Burrowing your face into Oberyn’s chest, you take a deep breath to calm down your heart. He was your lifeboat. Your anchor. Patience wasn’t usually part of Oberyn’s personality. For you though, he would be whatever you needed him to be. He was patient and gentle with you always with his words; even when he lovingly cradled your face in his battleworn hands. The same gesture he offered you when he opened the chest you had been hiding in. Even though you were covered in your own vomit and urine, Oberyn held you close to him and refused to hand you off to anyone else.

“Has the storm ended?” He whispers against your dark hair which you had inherited from your mother.

Sniffling, you nod. “It’s over. . . I’m sorry.”

He chuckles softly. “I told you not to apologize. It’s not needed. I told you, I will always be right by your side.”

You lift your head up a little to wipe your eyes. “It’s been eleven years. You’d think it would have stopped by now.”

“Eleven years or twenty years, it does not matter to me. No matter how many years, you will always have me.” The pad of his thumb helps to dry your cheeks. “No one expects you to ever forget about what has happened. There is no shame in grief, (y/n).”

Oberyn always knew how to make you feel better. Like he could read your soul and had the remedy at the ready.

He doesn’t leave when he knows you’re fine. Instead he continues to hug you tightly, the both of you returning to a sweeter slumber. Your dreams were always filled with pleasant scenes when Oberyn slept beside you. Even in sleep he protected you.

Despite having been rushed to Dorne the moment your uncle found you, Robert Baratheon still viewed you as a threat just because you were half-Targaryen. The last surviving child of Rhaegar. He had kicked up a storm when your body wasn’t among your murdered family. You had been five at the time of Robert’s Rebellion and even now meant him no harm, but he still desired your head. It had caused a massive rift between Westeros and Dorne, nearly leading to another war. Righteous Eddard Stark of Winterfell was the one to stop any more bloodshed. A close friend of the new king, he talked some sense into Robert. There were to be conditions: you could never set foot in Westeros and no Westerosi lord was allowed to take you as a bride.

That was all fine by you. You had absolutely no desire to go back there, the land where your loved ones had been annihilated. You were content to spend the rest of your life at Sunspear, out of harm’s way.

Matters were different for Oberyn. He wanted revenge. Every time he looked upon you, he was reminded of his sister’s rape and Rhaegar’s callous betrayal. Years could not heal the wound that your father had caused. All this sorrow was because of the affair he had with Lyanna Stark. If you could renounce your Targaryen blood, you would have. To be part Targaryen would forever be a stain on you. Nothing good ever came from the Targaryen name. You couldn’t change it as much as you wanted to. Inheriting Rhaegar’s lilac eyes made bile rise in you yet there was no hiding that part of you.

It caused a lot of self-hate to develop in you at a young age and no matter the praise everyone around you gave, you would always hate looking in the mirror just to be reminded of the man who abandoned you. As she had died, your little sister Rhaenys had cried out for Rhaegar, for her father to come save her.

Much to your shame, at the age of ten Oberyn had found you with a dagger about to pierce one of your eyes. You had hated them that much that you couldn’t stand it anymore. Oberyn had easily wrestled it out of your small hand and you witnessed the big man break down. You had made your own promise to him, that you would never try such a stunt again.

Understandably you were a melancholic child growing up. You stuck close to Oberyn, lost and fearful of everything. Any man that resembled the Mountain made you break down crying. Doran, while as understanding as he could be, didn’t know what to do with you. He saw you as getting in the way of Oberyn’s duties. Oberyn wouldn’t hear any of it. He offered you time, patience, and unconditional love that helped you greatly in your recovery. While it meant he was restricted in his social outings, he made it a point to carry you around with whatever task he needed to do. And when he would have to venture to the more unsavory areas in Dorne, it was his lover Ellaria Sand who would watch over you. While you didn’t trust her as much as you did your uncle, Ellaria was sweet with you and sympathetic to your trauma. One of Oberyn's young daughters, Tyene, who was around your age helped in breaking you out of your shell. Her mother having been a septa, Tyene had much of her compassion and empathy. She was able to sense when you were about to break. When times like that happened, Tyene would pull you aside and have you recite a prayer from the Seven Pointed Star. You had lost your faith in the gods long ago, but reciting from the book along with Tyene somehow soothed you. Being the same age, you revered Tyene as an older sister even if she was technically your cousin.

Much like Ellaria and her father, she protected your wellbeing to ensure that your mental recovery was steadily coming along. Certain incidents that involved Arianne set you back. Having witnessed the rape of your mother had put you off of any sexual activity; something in which both Tyene and Arianne partook in. You knew Arianne had just been trying to help you when she learned you were still quite the virgin at the age of fifteen. She had you tag along during one of their rendevouz with potential sexual partners. When your 'partner' put his hand on your knee you had immediately freaked out. Tyene took you back home much to your embarrassment. A part of you knew that Arianne never looked at you the same again.

You didn't want to be around men. Even if they looked nothing like Gregor Clegane, you feared the strength men naturally possessed. They could crush your skull without a moment's hesitation. The only men you could tolerate being around were your uncles Oberyn and Doran. Which Oberyn didn't mind too much. It proved that he was special to you, not just any other man.

It put extra stress on your uncle Doran though as it made finding you a suitor even more difficult. Not only would a potential suitor have to get past your walls, but would also have to face off with Oberyn. Being of a fragile constitution, Oberyn was incredibly protective of you and took it upon himself to be your personal knight in shining armor. Any man that wanted to get close to you had to receive Oberyn's approval, which he never gave to anyone much to Doran's frustration. He had lamented that at that point you would never get married. When he had said that you had partially joked that the only suitable man you would ever dream of marrying was Oberyn. You had meant it as a joke but you knew it was your secret truth.

Doran didn't think it was very funny, worried that the Targaryen trait of incestuous relationships would arise within you. The brothers would often butt heads about your future.

If you never married you were fine with that. Oberyn had promised to be by your side for as long as he lived. You didn't need any other man in your life except for him.

"What if Doran forces me to marry someone?" You asked Oberyn the next day as he took a break from training with Obara. Your older cousin twirled her weapon around, her stern expression permanent on her brutal face.

"He wouldn't dare do that." Oberyn replies watching as other men joined in the sparring ring with Obara. He lounged next to you in his seat, refusing the water that was offered to him and instead reached for the goblet of wine that he really wanted. Tied back in a ponytail, his hair moved slightly along with the calming breeze that offered respite from the blazing sun.

You stare at the tiled table that your hands rested on. "He's Prince of Dorne though. He can do whatever he wants."

That caught his attention, dark eyes narrowing at the idea that his older brother would dare do something like that. Placing his cup down, Oberyn sighed. "He knows better than to follow through with such an idiotic plan. He can't even marry off his own headstrong daughter, he can't possibly think he could wrestle you from my grasp. If he insists upon it then I will just bring up the fact that if anyone needs to be married off it's Arianne." You noticed his fist clenching, knuckles straining against his skin. "Doran knows better than to take you from me. He tried it before, he won't do it again."

You regretted being the source of contempt between your uncles but you felt so grateful for Oberyn. A small smile from you was enough to make Oberyn relax his fist and return with his own charming grin. "You really do spoil me."

He laughs loudly. "Elia wouldn't have had it any other way. I'm pretty sure she would come after me from the dead if I didn't take care of you. Your place will always be in my arms."

A coy blush makes your already warm cheeks burn slightly. "Is that another promise?"

Oberyn reaches into a hidden pocket that was in his vest. "Here is a testiment to my promise." In his palm was a golden ring in the shape of a coiling serpent. Small glittering rubies were in the place of its eyes. He beckons you to give him your hand. Initially you offer him your right but he shakes his head. "No, the other one."

Your heart flutters a bit when he places the ring on your left hand, slipping it easily on the digit next to your pinky. Of course it fit perfectly. You grinned, holding up your hand to watch it shine. "It's like a wedding band! You better be careful with such tokens, Doran is already worried about our relationship being misconstrued."

"Who cares what he thinks." Oberyn scoffs and leans back in his chair, watching you with a pleasant smile. "As long as it makes you happy I don't care what Doran thinks. Whatever it takes, I want to keep that smile on your face."

[atopvisenyashill]

What if Lyanna was exposed as the mystery knight at Harrenhal?

Huge embarrassment for Robert and the attending Starks. Howland speaks up in her defense and is probably considered a laughing stock for needing a 15 year old girl to defend him but honestly, I don't think a crannogman cares that much about that. Maybe Rickard is a bit less upset with her for it if he knows Lyanna only started the fight in defense of Howland.

The question is more about when she's exposed. If its just after she's defeated the knights, it's a huge embarrassment, Rickard tries to cover it up, everyone moves along. Probably Robert has something to say about it. If it's when Rhaegar found her hiding the shield, it gets difficult. Aerys believes this is a traitor that is laughing at him and he's not going to be kinder just because it's a teenage girl. If he thinks the North is conspiring against him, that's going to lead to worsening tensions. If he decides to get violent, well, Rickard and Robert would surely agree to chastisement but they're not going to let Aerys take off one of Lyanna's hands or something extreme like that and that is going to cause a massive problem. If, however, it's Rhaegar along with other knights who find her, and Rhaegar can convince them to keep quiet...that secret getting out might cause Rickard to chastise his daughter anyway in private. If Lyanna is kept under guard as punishment or even married to Robert early to "tame" her, it affects the plot massively because it means Rhaegar can't get access to her or has to work harder to get to her.

[steel-winter-rose]

vaedar asked: ❝ why are you avoiding me? ❞

———————————————————————————–

Lyanna was always one to act on impulse, on her emotions, it was not uncommon for her to speak from a place of anger or hurt; it is why she was struggling now to remain calm. All she could focus on was the anger, the embarrassment, the heaviness her heart when hearing those words. "I am carrying Vaedar's child." Heley's voice still echoed in the back of her mind, a sharp reminder of what the she-wolf could not do, least that was the conclusion she'd come to given despite how many times they claimed one another, the now Valarys woman failed to conceive a child of their own; despite it all she knew deep down he'd desire to be a father.

It was no surprise the Dragonlord eventually sought her out to confront her behavior as of lately, like her he was stubborn and wouldn't just let her slide away, at this moment though it was frustrating for if she had it her way she'd just keep it all inside of her. Gray eyes avert from him to look elsewhere, if she looked at him then it'd be impossible for her to remain upset, that and he'd be able to see right through her. "Because whenever I am near you all I see is you with her." Lyanna finally and rather bluntly states, both anger and hurt within her tone. "A reminder that you lay with her, that now she is the one to give you what I could not."

[fandomficsnstuff]

Wolves and Hounds-3

(Warnings: Some blood and a tiny tiny hint at angst before more fluff. Also sorry it's so short<3)

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His eyes would wander to her every now and then, how bored she looked, her gray eyes dull as she barely paid attention to… well… anything. The jousting had yet to begin and she already looked bored. “Karliah!” Robert called suddenly, the woman turning to look over her shoulder before getting up without question, joining the drunk king without another thought after his wife had left “what in Seven Hells are you looking so bored for? The jousting will begin soon!” he asked with a burp that she didn’t even seem to care for “you know why” she muttered bitterly, Robert laughing, slapping his big wine belly as he did “I can’t have you fight them! There’s not enough gold dragons in the world to pay all the bets I’d win on that one!” he shouted loudly with joy, Karliah briefly looking around with a big blush on her cheeks, obviously feeling embarrassed since everyone turned to look at their exchange, but Robert just continued to laugh. “You’d knock them all off their fancy horses!! They’d never be able to walk again!” Robert continued bursting with laughter, Karliah forcing a smile to stay polite “thank you, Your Grace-”

“Get her a horse and some armor!! I’m sure there’s some pitiful squire’s armor you can wear. Come on!!! Before I die of old age!! Get the lady a horse and some armor!!” he stood up and roared, Karliah’s cheeks almost beet red as she shook her head “thank you, Your Grace, it makes me proud and happy that you have such confidence in me, should I joust, but I’m afraid I can’t joust-”

“Why not?! Afraid of embarrassing everyone else?” Robert asked with utter amusement and Karliah forced a smile “it’d be a shame to knock so many knights and lords off their horses and bruise their egos. Let the realm believe I cannot joust, for their ego” she whispered, Robert staring at her before laughing loudly, nodding as he could barely get his words out of his mouth “yer just like Lyanna! As clever as they come! Alright then!” he decided and Karliah smiled. She quickly turned around and walked back to her seat behind Sansa, Arya and their septa, just as a squire hurriedly approached with a horse. “Your Grace! The armor is in-”

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?!”

“I-... you asked-”

“And now I’m asking you to leave! Get outta here so the jousting can finally begin!” he yelled loudly, the poor boy hurrying away with the horse as the jousting games began. As a man sat down next to Sansa, Karliah frowned, listening as he talked to her, listening to his every word and she forced a smile as she jumped in “Littlefinger, was it?” she asked, the man turning around to look at her, smiling politely as he nodded “yes-”

“But your name is actually Petyr Baelish, correct?”

“Yes, Lady Stark-”

“You grew up with Catlyn. Sansa is the spitting image of her mother, isn’t she? A northern beauty” she complimented with a warm smile, Sansa smiling with red cheeks, always enjoying the compliments and praise she’d get for her beauty and femininity “she is, she looks just like her mother when she was her age” Petyr said with a fond look in his eyes when he looked at Sansa, Karliah nodding “and have you heard? She’s promised to the prince himself” Karliah added, Petyr turning to look at her, his entire demeanor changing at the look in Karliah’s eyes. The warning. Telling him that he was far too familiar with her niece for her liking. “I can only imagine the pair they’ll make” was his response and Karliah nodded, forcing a polite smile “indeed” she stated, leaning a little closer “I am giving you one warning as a courtesy, Lord Baelish; I love both of my nieces very dearly. Do you understand?” she whispered so only Petyr could hear, waiting for him to nod with understanding before leaning back in her seat, a small victorious smirk on her lips when he finally did nod. Karliah’s eyes widened a little as the tall suit of black armor rode closer, her heart racing a little as she frowned, unaware that the Hound himself watched the way her chest seemed to rise and fall a little heavier, a look of shock disguised as intriguing on her face as she studied him. He truly was as tall as a mountain. She doubted his apparent size was due to the armor; it must have fitted him like a glove, unlike the shiny little squire on his white horse next to the Mountain. He’d run him through. There was no doubt about it. No Gods, old or new, could save that poor boy from the Mountain once he’d take his lance.

The first clash. The knight survived, both of them being offered new lances and then came the second one. The second clash. Sansa screamed as the knight fell from his horse, wood impaled in his throat as he drowned on his own blood as it spurted out all over him and his shiny armor that was obviously new. Karliah flinched at the clash and put a hand on both of her nieces’ shoulders out of instinct, Arya turning to look up at her and Karliah sighed as she wrapped an arm around the youngest of her nieces with a worried frown. Her gaze turned to the septa, both of them with worry as Karliah looked back at a shocked, wide-eyed Arya. “Do you want to leave, Arry?” Karliah asked in a whisper, gaining the young girl’s attention who looked up at her, eyes still as wide as the wheels on a wagon, she shook her head a little and Karliah sighed, the two of them unaware of Petyr who spoke in a hushed voice to Sansa. “You don’t have to stay. If you’re afraid of what people will think, I will lie. I can come up with an excuse” Karliah promised but Arya shook her head again, finally finding her words “I’m okay…” she muttered, Karliah looking at the septa and she nodded. Karliah looked back at Sansa just as Petyr leaned away from her, Karliah placing a hand on Sansa’s shoulder, gaining the girl’s attention. “Sansa?”

“I’m fine, Aunt Karliah, thank you” she spoke in a meek voice and Karliah sighed softly, reaching forward and gently cupping her cheek before nodding, leaning back in her seat, sighing heavily. As she felt someone’s gaze linger, she turned her head, finding the Hound staring at her but instead of looking away, as her oldest niece often did, she gave him a smile. A rare, one-sided smile, her eyes locked with his until he looked away first, Karliah smirking a little, her stomach fluttering with an unfamiliar feeling in her gut.

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Karliah was silent as she sat in the gardens, eyes closed, face turned to the sky as she had a small frown on her face. So much was happening, yet nothing was happening at the same time. She’d already been to the Godswood, twice, praying. She wasn’t entirely sure if the Gods existed, old or new, but there had to be something. Something more out in the world, there had to be. So she prayed, though her prayers were really more a front, allowing her to spend some time to herself without a Stark or Lannister guard breathing down her neck, without her brother’s worry rubbing off on her, and, as selfish as that may have been, without the banter of her nieces and by the Gods, those two could fight for hours if they’d be allowed to, each trying to get the last word, the two girls worlds apart and different, yet she adored them all the same. They were her life. All of her nieces and nephews were. She’d already accepted that marriage and children were not in her cards, so she doted on her brother’s children, each and every one of them… and her sister’s… her only sister’s only child.

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“I’m telling you, it’s awful! There’s all the laces and they’re all on your back and then there’s the shoes!! I have no idea how Cat does it! Or Sansa for that matter!”

“What ‘bout Arya?”

“Her? In heels? You must’ve eaten something that wasn’t quite right, Your Grace” Karliah joked before sipping her wine, amusement clear in her voice as Robert laughed. Robert had always been… different towards her. She was Lyanna’s baby sister, and he loved her as such, furthermore, unlike her brother, she could be chatty, after a few drinks, especially around her family and Robert was part of that family. And she had no filter with him. She’d even met his daughter in the Vale, once, and briefly while visiting Ned while he was fostered by Jon Arryn with Robert. Robert had talked about women, sex, battle, killing, shit, piss, blood and all manner of other things that a highborn lady shouldn’t be discussing, and he was overjoyed when she laughed, when she was showing him her wit with a clever comment or joke, proving the sturdy, unmovable, unfazed North blood in her veins, chilling her, making her unfazed by just about everything he’d brought up. Though he did joke a little too much about that time that a squire made her blush… and in front of the poor boy, making her furious and she’d dumped an entire flagon of wine over his head before storming off. He never apologized but the next day she seemed to have gotten past it faster than him, and the poor squire. “Seven Hells, where have all the years gone by, Kal?” he asked suddenly with a much dimmer tone compared to the cheerful one only a few moments ago. “Down your gullet, by the looks of it” she joked and he cracked a wheezing laugh at her joke, his cheeks red and flushed from wine and laughter before he settled back down again “you’re a soothing balm for the company of your brother” he admitted as he drank his wine, Karliah chuckling lightly “he’s not called the Quiet Wolf for nothing” she stated with a shrug, finishing off the last of her wine, which Robert of course noticed. “Boy!! Make yourself useful and fill Lady Stark’s cup already!”

“No, thank you, Your Grace, I’ve had quite enough” she quickly admitted, placing a hand over the top of her glass to prevent anything from going in as she stood up, putting the glass back down on the table. “Ah, ya prude!” Robert called as his own glass was filled, Karliah chuckling instead of taking it as an insult “and by the sound of it, you’ve had enough as well, but I know better than to stand between you and wine” she teased, curtseying before leaving, faintly hearing Robert shout at the poor boy when he realized the wine jug was empty.

[elisysd]

You are in love – Taylor Swift

Masterlist - Previously - Next Chapter

And for once you let go Of your fears and your ghosts One step, not much But it said enough

Seeing Charlotte at his birthday party made Charles feel conflicted. On the one hand, he was happy to see her; their relationship may have ended, but they had spent some wonderful times together and Charles would always be grateful to Charlotte for having been part of his life. But on the other, he hoped that Lyanna would not interpret this in the wrong way and would take this opportunity to distance herself from him. The last few days had been complicated and things were only beginning to improve, so now was not the time to take a step backwards.

“So, what are you doing here? Who invited you?” asked her Charles while guiding her towards his friends.

“Joris told me. And I know we are not together anymore but I was not seeing myself not whishing you a happy birthday and ignoring it. We were friends before our relationship, I hope we can still be ones even after.”

“I don’t see why it could be a problem. We both adults and we both moved on.”

“Speaking of moving on… Lyanna Michel, hum? Aiming for Hollywood, Leclerc?” she teased him.

“You know her?”

“She is pretty famous.”

“How come everyone knows her but me?”

“Because you don’t care about anything that is not racing related. If she were in a movie about racing or whatever you would have known about her.”

He shrugged as they moved towards the tables where the guests were seated.

“Charlotte? What a surprise, I did not expect to see you there.” Pascale greeted her while kissing both of her cheeks and inviting the young woman to sit at the table.

“It’s good to see you Pascale.”

“So what have you been up to?”

“Travelling here and there. Enjoying life mostly.”

The two women started to talk and Charles took this opportunity to search for Lyanna in the crowd. He wanted to introduce her to Charlotte as quick as possible before she learnt by someone else that is ex-girlfriend was there and imagined things.

“Mom, did you see Lya somewhere? I can’t seem to find her.”

“No I haven’t. Do you want me to search for her with you?”

“I think it’s her right there by the scene, no?” pointed out Charlotte.

“So you know her to the extent that you can find her in the crowd but not me?” said Charles while looking at Charlotte with disbelief.

“I mean, I kind of follow her on social media and watched some of her movies. So yeah… told you Charles she was a big deal, you should not be surprised to learn that people know about her.”

Charles was about to get up and leave to go to his girlfriend when he saw her going up on the stage and sitting at the piano. His eyes were fixed on her, trying to understand what she was doing. He could see, even from several metres away, how distressed she was.

“Hi everyone. Oh my God, it’s so weird. I’m not going to take much of your time I just wanted to wish a happy birthday to the man of the day. I sometimes have a hard time finding the right words to say to express what you mean to me and every day a part of me admire you for putting up with me. I don’t know how you do to be this patient. I would have given up on me a long time ago if I were you but you’re somehow still here. So this song is for you. Happy Birthday Charles.”

Charles felt a sudden surge of emotion when he heard Lyanna sing. He was proud to see her bare her soul in front of so many people, most of whom she didn't even know. Embarrassment, because he knew that everyone was watching for his reaction. Hope, because he realised that Lyanna was finally ready to give 100% of herself to him and that they would finally be able to move forward together in the same direction. And above all, a ball of heat in his chest that threatened to explode at any moment.

Too busy looking at Lyanna, he didn't notice Charlotte's chair coming closer to him and whispering a few words in his ear.

“Well, she must really love you to do that.”

“She is amazing.”

“I can see that yes. Charles, can I tell you something? It won’t be long but I feel like you need to hear it.”

Charles turned briefly to Charlotte.

“In the years we spent as a couple, I’ve never seen you look at me like you are looking at her. Or even talk about me like you talk about her. You love her. If I know you as well as I think, you might not be ready to admit it, but it’s love. True and pure love. I’m happy you found that with someone and I’m glad she is able to give you what I could not. You deserve to be happy Charles. You deserve to find your special someone and if what I can witness is any clue about that, I think you found her. Hold on to that feeling. Hold on to her. And be happy.”

Charles was overwhelmed with emotion. It was one thing to hear his friends and family tell him he was in love, it was quite another to hear it from his ex. Without really thinking, he took Charlotte in his arms and held her close.

“I hope you’ll find that as well. You are a good person, Charlotte. Really.”

“Come on, you are going to make me cry. Go get your girl I think she is about to faint.”

A glance at Lyanna told him that the young woman was indeed about to cry, vomit or faint, or all three at once. He leapt to his feet and rushed towards her.

Lyanna stared shakily at the piano keys and Charles crouched down beside her to block her from the crowd. His arms found their natural place around her body and he drew her to him as he felt her tears wet his shirt. He had the reflex to move the microphone away and pressed his cheek against hers.

“You’re my most beautiful birthday gift.” He said to her.

It was true. Nothing could beat the way he felt about her at that moment. It was as if he'd been waiting for her all his life. She was a gift from heaven sent by his guardian angels. She was exactly what he needed at this moment in his life and he knew that whatever happened to him, if he had her by his side, everything would be all right.  His eyes met hers and a soft smile played across her lips.

“I hope I managed to convey everything that you make me feel with this song. And I hope you liked it.”

“You did, yes. And so much more. You made me cry, Lya.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s happy tears. You are fantastic.”

He kissed her lips that tasted like salt and he was almost sure that she could say the same about his. They rose to their feet to the applause of the guests and Charles took Lyanna by the hand to lead her to the table where his family was seated. Charlotte was still there, her eyes a little teary. Pascale moved over to give Lyanna room to sit down and poured her a glass of water, which she drank in one gulp. Charles also sat down beside her, making sure to keep her hand in his at all times. He could still feel her shaking.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lyanna watched Charlotte. She was very pretty and seemed kind. And if she was present at Charles's birthday party, that meant they were still close. She didn't know how she felt about that. It would be so much easier for her if Charlotte came across as a heartless bitch and not the complete opposite.

Feeling the actress's gaze on her, Charlotte took the initiative of introducing herself.

“You were amazing out there. It was a really beautiful song.”

“Thanks.” Whispered Lyanna, her gaze fixed on the table.

“I love your dress by the way, red looks gorgeous on you. Don’t you agree Charles?” she insisted while sending a look to Charles that more or less was saying: please help me I want to get to know your girlfriend.

“Yeah, red is definitely my favourtie colour on her. For obvious reason. Well, Lyanna this is Charlotte, my…hum…” he hesitated. He couldn't see introducing Charlotte as a friend, but he couldn't see introducing her as his ex either.

“Ex-girlfriend?” blurted Lyanna while looking at Charles. “I was talking to George’s girlfriend when I saw you both together.”

“Charles did not know I was coming, maybe I should have given a heads up. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable.” Justified Charlotte.

Lyanna absent-mindedly nodded. She could not help but to feel a little jealous even if a part of her knew that she didn't have to fear anything. But still, it was not a nice feeling to to be stuck in a room with your boyfriend’s ex. She did not know how to act. She sighed before drinking another glass of water and excused herself. She needed to be a little alone, just to sort her thoughts out and breathe a little. She felt like all eyes were on her and she should have expected it after the stunt she pulled but it did not make things easier for her. She locked herself in the bathroom and put some water on her face. She stayed still for a few minutes trying to regain her composure and a steady breathing. When she came out of the room and she found herself face to face with Charlotte who had followed her.

“Hey… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.” Apologized Charlotte seeing Lyanna jerking away. “Do you have a minute?”

Lyanna nodded and they wandered off to find a secluded room away from prying ears.

“I know how you must feel, seeing me here. I guess it’s not a nice feeling…” began Charlotte.

“It’s weird, yeah. I have nothing against you I don’t know you, it’s just that I was not expecting to see you here. Charles never talked to me about his ex-girlfriends so meeting you on his birthday is kind of making me uncomfortable.”

“I can understand. If I knew that you would have been here, I would not have come. I don’t want to make things weird between you and Charles. I just want you to know that I did not come here with a hidden agenda. I only came to wish him a happy birthday, that’s it. You have nothing to be afraid of from my side. But I care about Charles, I’ll always will. I can’t act like he has not been an important part of my life. But I don’t love him anymore. I moved on. I wanted you to feel reassured toward that.”

“You did not have to tell me that. You don’t owe me anything but I appreciate, thank you.”

“You guys make a beautiful couple. And he is happy and in the end that is what I want the most for him.”

“You are really sweet; you make it hard for me to not like you.” Confessed Lyanna eliciting a slight laugh from Charlotte.

“Well thank you, I guess. Here’s my phone number, if you find yourself being bored of Charles and want to hang out, text me. I would really like to be your friend.”

Lyanna saved Charlotte's contact details in her phone and smiled at her. The brunette gave her a slight nod before walking away. When Lyanna returned to the room, Charlotte had disappeared and Charles was in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by his friends. She recognised Joris and Pierre in the distance but didn't dare intrude. Instead, she decided to join Pascale, who was alone at her table watching the room.

“How are you feeling, darling?” asked Pascale. “What you did out there for Charles was very brave.”

“I feel better now that is done. But I needed to tell him how I felt. I just did not know how.”

“Well I’d say that Charles will have a hard time to find something that will beat what you did for your birthday.”

“Well, he can always ask her to marry him, I’d say that would do the job perfectly fine.” Added Arthur that was passing by.

Lyanna blushed to the suggestion. It was definitely not in her plans for the near future. Even if imagining her future with Charles and imagining them getting married at some point made her feel fuzzy things.

It was late when Lyanna and Charles came back to the flat. Charles was slightly drunk and could not stop giggling. He was also extremely handsy with her. He could not stop touching her and following her around, trying to kiss her whenever he could. Lyanna found that annoyingly cute and she had a really hard time trying to put him into bed. And even in the darkness of the room and the comfort of the bed, Charles continued to tease her, playing with her hair and trying to pin her against him.

“Charles… sleep.” Tried to argue Lyanna.

“I don’t want to. Did I tell you how beautiful you looked today?”

“Multiple times, yes.” She answered laughing slightly. “You are going to have such a headache tomorrow.”

“I don’t care. As long as you are here, it doesn’t matter. You are perfect. My Lyanna. My beautiful and perfect Lyanna. All mine and mine alone.”

“You are so drunk…”

“Drunk on love then.” he added.

“Yeah sure, babe. Goodnight Charles.” She said and kissed his cheek.

“Lyanna?”

“Yes, Charles?” she sighed.

She waited but nothing came out of his mouth. He was asleep.

======

author's note: Since some of you were worried about Charlotte appearance in last chapter, I thought I was going to put an end to your fears right away. As usual I'm curious about your thoughts so feel free to express them whether it's through the comments, the ask box if your too shy or the DMs if you want to talk about the story a bit more. Take care and see you really soon for another update.

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[midwesternnerd-asoiaf]

“Rhaegar and Lyanna were in love”

No. She was 15. He was 23. No sane 23-year-old would ever be in love with a teenager. I am 20, and I find the idea of dating a teenager to be extremely disturbing. Rhaegar was a lunatic, obsessed with prophecy to the point where structured his whole life around it.

Lyanna first met Rhaegar at Harrenhal, where it seems like she found him to be kind, poetic, and trustworthy. He protected her from Aerys (assuming you agree with me that Lyanna was the knight of the laughing tree).

Lyanna may have had some sort of crush on Rhaegar. It is normal for teenagers to have crushes on adults, because teenagers don’t have the life experience to understand how different teens and adults are. What’s not normal is for an adult to have feelings for a teenager. I’m 20, and the idea of dating a teenager makes me sick. Rhaegar was like 22 at the Harrenhal tourney. He should’ve known better.

Perhaps, when Rhaegar and Lyanna first met at Harrenhal, she straight up told him that she thought he was super handsome and that she liked his singing. The way Lyanna is characterized, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was very forward. At that point, it was Rhaegar’s responsibility to tell her that he was married and that she was a child. But he failed to clear that extremely low bar. Perhaps he kissed her, perhaps he didn’t. It doesn’t matter that much; he was grooming her anyway.

And then he CROWNED HER QUEEN OF LOVE AND BEAUTY. I cannot stress how uncomfortable of a situation Rhaegar put everyone in. An adult man walked up to a teenager and basically said “you are the hottest lady here” in front of a crowd of thousands of people.

Can you imagine the awkward silence? Can you imagine how anxious Lyanna was, with everyone staring at the two of them? Can you imagine how Elia felt, when her husband gave the “Hottest Lady Ever” award to a teenager? Can you imagine how Brandon felt, seeing his sister humiliated? How about Eddard and Benjen? Can you imagine the chirping crickets? CAN YOU!?

In front of all the most important lords of Westeros, Rhaegar basically declared, “I am grooming this child!” No wonder everyone was pissed.

And then they met in the Riverlands, a few months later. Lyanna was no doubt traveling with guards, and Rhaegar was with Arthur Dayne and Oswell Whent. Rhaegar probably apologized for embarrassing her. Lyanna may or may not have accepted this apology; we genuinely don’t know.

But next, he kills her guards, and brings her to a secret sex tower in the mountains so that he could use her as a tool to process his sperm into a prophecy baby. And she was really young to be having children. Dying in childbirth wouldn’t have been an insignificant danger for her.

This is insane. Even if Lyanna had feelings for Rhaegar, the information we have paints a dark picture. Lyanna was taken, isolated, and exploited by an adult that she had previously thought to be trustworthy. Elia was abandoned by her husband because he couldn’t use her as a baby factory anymore.

Rhaegar was an insane man that abandoned his wife and raped a teenager, plunging an entire continent into war, just because he wanted to have a prophecy baby…

—————————————

And that baby? Jon Snow? He’s probably the danger that Rhaegar thought he was protecting the world against. Jon’s body will likely be resurrected by ice magic, after his mind spends some time in Ghost. He will be an icy, wolflike man, bent on finishing his “unfinished business” of conquering Winterfell. He will kill Stannis and wield the cold Lightbringer. The North will be plunged into darkness by an army of wights and Others, led by Jon Snow.

He is the icy head of the dragon. The coldest note in the Song of Ice and Fire. And when he faces Daenerys and fAegon, Westeros will collapse into war yet again.

Rhaegar’s actions weren’t some necessary sacrifice to save Westeros. His actions doomed Westeros, in a self-fulfillment of Aegon’s Prophecy. Aegon saw a war of ice and fire, and so the Targaryens assumed fire was the hero.

————————

TL;DR: Rhaegar raped a teenager and plunged a continent into war to birth some prophesied savior, even though that supposed “savior” is probably the icy villain that the Targaryens wanted to stop in the first place.