#asiof

[tinylittlesstuff]

[soldierpoetconqueror]

Got to love the Greens on reddit...

[spirit-meets-the-b0ne]

The thing that Targaryen antis either don’t or can’t understand is that in spite of all the discussions, discourse and arguments (& moral conjecture): I simply love dragons and mentally ill women with great hair sorry if you can’t relate

[femcelriddlr]

my take on Rhaenyra 🐉

[hum-suffer]

I should have a chance to tell Jaime Lannister that he's a dumbass (affectionate) to his face

[thelastbatwings]

hot take but i genuinely dislike the depiction of slavery in modern fantasy which is mostly class based instead of race based. did white slaves exist? yes, but it's important to note that slavery as a whole was a way white westerners targeted people of colour from the South and east specifically and ignoring this is a disservice to our experiences

[desireblody]

It's my sweet Otto, my husband

My OC x canon with Otto Hightower I think is the best thing that has happened to me and I adore him with all my soul

I'm writing your story and I'll upload it to Ao3.

[moseslikellamas]

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂 pt.2

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - Following the shock of a lifetime while out scouting the borderlands, Shanda deals with the fallout of her actions and makes plans to repeat the same mistakes.

Warnings - fem!reader, strained family dynamics, adult language, obsessive behavior, reckless behavior, braindead behavior, not cannon compliant, kieran burton fancast,

Word count 2.1k

2/6 currently

!Minors DNI!

Ahaha, this is going to be a pretty slow burn type of deal I think. But I am unhinged and cranked out another one before work 😤👍🏻🗣️ Next chapter will be more exciting, I promise. Also everyone involved in any romance is of age of course bc I don’t care about canon and no child marriages here.

Shanda didn’t stop running until she was back home in her own chambers. Shutting her door quietly, she stripped her soaked clothes off. The cloak would have to be mended and she would have to convince Royce, her younger brother, to take her out riding to cover for the rip. That would cost her but it was better than the alternative. Shivering, she quickly dressed for sleep before adding more logs to the dying fire in her harth, then seated herself in front of the flames. Only then did she allow her mind to wander back to the horrible encounter she’d just experienced. Why was the Blackwood heir on guard duty in the borderlands? It didn’t make any sense even if he had spoken the truth earlier. She moved like a shadow but no woman can be invisible. To send Benjicot to deal with a once off rogue spy was a move that was so strange it made her head spin.

Tomorrow she would talk to Martyn first, tell him mostly the truth of what happened and then convince him to let her out again. She had a good start on information for swaying her father but it wasn’t enough. If she went with tales of the heir and half heard secrets, he’d lose his mind at her irresponsibility. But if she found out what the heir was up to and confirmed what real problem the Blackwoods were having, well then he might see reason. He might for once appreciate having a slippery sneaking daughter who doesn’t know how to mind her own business.

Shanda awoke with a start, nearly toppling herself from the chair she’d fallen asleep in. No light shone in from the windows, her room was damp and muggy. Her night clothes stuck to her in an uncomfortable manner, sweat beaded on her brow as she rose to wash and dress for the day. The riverlands were often damp, hot and moist, the air thick with water. Gazing out the window she saw the torches lit and in the distance gathering clouds like a bruise against the gray sky.

Leaving her room, Shanda slowly made her way downstairs. She stopped along the way to make a comment to anyone passing by, making a point to be seen by many and accounted for undoubtedly. Then without pausing in the main hall, headed straight out into the yard to find Martyn. The guard shift was up at first light and though there was no light outside, she guessed it had only been a few minutes since the shift changed.

Martyn was waiting for her outside of the barracks and he motioned for her to walk with him. They began to circle around the yard, walking quietly and slowly together. Her brother was a short man barely an inch taller than her but he had eyes like a hawk and could shoot a field mouse clean nearly a mile away. Which was why he was always stuck on guard duty.

“Well out with it. I’ve gotta have a sleep too, you know?”

Shanda hesitated. What exactly was she going to tell him? ‘Hey so I got into a knockdown fight with the Blackwood heir last night who threatened to arrest me by the way for a made up list of crimes’. Well mostly made up crimes. That didn’t sound like a good idea.

Martyn spoke in her silence, “Did you bring the knife back?”

Shanda inhaled sharply, grimacing.

“About that, I maybe sort of-“

He cut her off, “Shanda please tell me you didn’t leave it.”

“I didn’t leave it per say. It was jostled from my hands, let's say instead.”

The look Martyn gave her was incredulous to the point of absurdity and it took all of her willpower not to laugh.

“Okay listen. Last night I found out the Blackwood heir has been relegated to guard duty. Overheard an argument between him and another guard.” She glanced around before continuing, the yard was still mostly deserted. “They were arguing about crimes being committed on their lands. I don’t know what crimes but it didn’t sound like they were too happy about it.”

“Benjicot was on guard duty? Wait, and you said the knife was… Did you fight the heir to Raventree?”

Shanda pointedly avoided looking her brother in the eye, a bit embarrassed of her behavior in the light of day.

“To be fair, I didn’t know it was Benjicot. I thought it was just some nameless guard!” She hissed agitated at having been caught in such a situation.

“Shanda, do you have any sense? The mother save you, I certainly can’t! If father were to find out...”

He didn’t have to finish that sentence. Shanda had been walking on thin ice lately. But it wasn’t her fault her father had no vision for house Bracken. She didn’t want to play second fiddle to the Blackwoods for the rest of her life. But he was set in his ways at his age and that meant ‘no sneaking into the borderlands to spy on our sworn rivals’. A foolish and dangerous act that she just couldn’t abide. Hence the sneaking tomfoolery.

“Look I need to get the knife back and I need to figure out what they’re up to. Surely this is suspicious behavior!”

Martyn only shook his head looking thoughtful.

“He could just be doing rounds.”

“In the borderlands? You don’t see our father wasting you there, why would they?”

Sighing heavily he replied, “I don’t know dear sister and I’m too tired to care. Don’t do anything stupid and I’ll see about getting you out again.”

Despite her best efforts her face still lit up at his proclamation.

“No promises. Now go away and annoy someone else for a change huh?”

“Sure thing Martyn. Sleep well!”

Waving him off, she waited til Martyn was out of sight before booking it to the stables. It was time to convince Royce now. A much harder brother to move. Royce was three years younger than her and though seventeen, still incredibly immature. Which was why he was in the stables and wifeless. Not that she had a better track record when it came to potential suitors but she could sympathize with women not wanting to spend a significant amount of time around him.

Entering the stables, Shanda could smell the fresh hay that was being spread out. Reminding her of her own duties she was neglecting while outside brother negotiating. The tasks would hold, this could not.

“Royce? Are you here?”

“No, go away.”

Groaning and already regretting the decision to talk to him, she made her way back towards the corral.

“Wonderful to see you brother.”

“As wonderful as an arrow in the eye. What do you want?”

Royce sat on a barrel, cutting an apple open and eating slices from the blade. In the distance, sounds of horses whinnying could be heard. Shanda decided to cut the pleasantries and get to the point.

“I want you to take me riding. Name your price.”

He smirked, weighing the statement while continuing to eat the apple. Mouth half full he said, “Get me out of the Sept gathering.”

She stood there mouth half agape. Get him out of the mourning ceremony? Genuinely speechless, she just stared at him for a full moment before shaking her head and gathering her thoughts.

“Right. That isn’t for a fortnight though and I need to go riding soon.”

He shrugged.

“Ugh. What else do you want?It’s already going to take a miracle to get you out of the ceremony. Which you should go to. ” She pinched the skin in between her eyes, exasperated.

“Well you shouldn’t sneak out at night but then neither of us is exactly the picture of a perfect person.”

That made her look up. “How did you..? Nevermind, mind your own business Royce. Figure out your price, we ride today. I don’t care if it storms, all the better. I’ll be back after dusk.”

Not bothering to hear his reply she left in a huff. Crossing the yard swiftly she made her way back inside, heading up the stairs into the library tower. Arriving in the room, the familiar sight of rows and rows of shelves met her eyes. Shanda takes the first real deep breath she’s had since yesterday as she sits at her desk. Already two messages have arrived, one about the recent steel shipment that she files away for a conversation with her father. The other is a letter from another of her brothers, Gerald who was currently doing bridge repairs.

Neither captures her attention and soon she finds herself in front of the window gazing out. Not at the yard below but at the trees in the distance. The leaves shimmer and twist in the blowing breeze, almost as if dancing to a hypnotic rhythm. What is the heir doing in the borderlands? The tall grass looks dark and forbidding, jutting up in front of the keep, weaving and swaying back and forth. How long has he been on guard duty? The clouds now a deep rolling luster of plum, illuminate as lightning strikes down the sky. Silently and slowly the rain begins to fall resolute. Would they put him on guard two nights in a row?

The first slow roll of thunder startles her back into the present moment. It didn’t matter, she decided, if he was on guard or not. She had to go back tonight, without Martyn. She’d wait longer, spend the day leisurely and then steal out in the dead of night. It was, of course, a foolish plan. That didn’t matter though, she’d be more prepared tonight and have a solid alibi lined up. It would be more foolish to waste this golden opportunity. All she had to do was make it through dinner, ride out with Royce, avoid martin and then sneak out of the yard tonight. After that she hoped only to find her knife and continue reconnaissance from a safe distance. Easy peasy right?

It was not so. The gods must truly find the riverlanders to be the most accursed of all beings. As the day progressed the storm grew to such a height it would’ve been impossible to ride out in it. It built much like it had the night before, growing to a cloying suffocating state that drenched any and everything. But it had given her an excuse to pull the ripped cloak out and wear it outside as she raced to meet Royce in the stables. Unable to ride didn’t mean he was unable to assist her in this endeavor. All she needed was a warm body and a viable excuse for why her very nice cloak had a nasty gash through the side.

The storm raged against the stables and the horses were restless in their stalls. Royce was sitting, relatively dry she noted, on a stack of hay.

“No riding out in this, sister.”

Shanda smiled, nodding. “I agree.” Then she grabbed a horse shoeing tool off the table and ripped at the already torn cloak.

Satisfied it looked like she’d clumsily tripped into a workbench and once stuck had ripped herself free of it. It was believable enough and she’d already made a deal with Royce for his support should she be questioned too much about it.

“No worries brother. We spent the evening playing games and watching the storm clouds. After which I tripped and ripped my cloak. Very sad and wholly unavoidable.”

“Whatever. Just get me out of the ceremony.”

“Of course. Anyway, I’m going to my room now.”

Departing from the stables, she was immediately soaked through but she did not return to her chambers or even the main keep. Instead she made her way into their private sept. It was freezing and the dim light threw wild shadows against the white stone walls. Only a few small candles lent any light to the room but she was unafraid, striding in and standing before the one stained glass window they owned. On it was a rainstorm depicted and in the dim flickering light the window shone iridescent. The window also depicted a large tree, white with branches ever reaching up. She felt small in the shadow of it.

“Can I help you dear?”

The scratchy voice of old septa Beck made her jump. Her head was in knots today. Why had she come here again? She couldn’t remember. Did she even have a reason? She glanced back at the window, forgetting about the septa. Lightning flashed and the leaves on the window seemed to weep red in the light.

“No. No thanks, Septa Beck. I was just saying a quick prayer before bed.” Shanda smiled gently at her before casting the window one last look and leaving the sept. From there she did return to her chambers, it was time to prepare and plan

Pt.3

[hussyknee]

Put off reading Kushiel's Legacy thinking it would be vaguely racist harem-fantasy BDSM smut in high fantasy dressing. Instead I got feminist George R. R. Martin if he was less racist and skeezy.

You need to take notes to follow all the names and I can barely keep up with who's doing what and the author has never heard of cutting to the goddamn chase, but good God you get so invested in the characters within a hundred pages that it sends you reeling when they die. I'm only at 200 out of 500 pages but I'm so fucking gutted that I stopped reading to skim the rest of all three books to see whether any of my other favourites were going to die and who I should be braced for dying because good fucking god. I'm even heartbroken about characters that died before the book!

It really sneaks up on you because this book is so dense and crammed with so much detail that you don't realize you've begun to really love the characters. The fuckton of foreshadowing probably didn't register because they're front and center like main characters would be, so you're not prepared for them to die in the middle. And Phedre lives such a happy, sheltered life that it's a genuine shock when it all gets blown up.

I want them back. I like Joscelin, but he isn't them. Jacqueline Carey how could you. 😭😭😭😭😭

Oh btw, this series is also gay as shit. Heterosexuality doesn't seem to exist and it's so unremarkable it didn't even occur to me that this is a full-on LGBT series. It's not like in fanfic, when even in stories where queerness is universal and unremarked in-universe there might as well be a giant fuck you rainbow flag over it all. In Kushiel's Universe it's just so matter-of-fact that you realize this could actually have been what society was like in the past when the Church wasn't all up in everybody's business. Sure, in this universe there's a hippie Jesus that followed regular Jesus who was all flower power and free love and founded alternate universe France, so that nobody has any sexual hang ups, homo or otherwise (much like regular medieval France Ig), but even if there were, everybody's either too rich to give a shit or too poor to care (also like regular medieval France). It feels historically accurate somehow. Idk. But this book came out in 2001. Eat that, GRRM, with your two male gays and off-screen lesbians.

Edit: Just checked the AO3 tag and. Sigh. You know a book isn't trashy when it only has 350 works on AO3. Fanfic runs on trash and guilty pleasure, not sensitive and quality story-telling.

[tinylittlesstuff]

Credit: Eve Best Source Twitter

[soldierpoetconqueror]

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 , 𝒘𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒊𝒆.

CD: HEARTS.4.HEARTSS @tiktok

[spirit-meets-the-b0ne]

Prince Rhaegar Targaryen

[femcelriddlr]

Alicent sketch I miiiiiiiiiight finish

[hum-suffer]

Hi!

Jaime, Tommen and Myrcella, for the prompt “hug”?

Hellos there, dearest! Thank you for the lovely prompt!!

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Jaime creeps along the hallway, the midnight silence being the loudest noise in the hallway.

Cersei had, once again, proven to be a lying little—

As much as he loved his twin, as much as he was enamoured and endeared and absolutely whipped for her, Jaime Lannister did not appreciate left hanging without cause. He could have been easily sleeping by this time, for fuck's sake.

He pushes up the sleeves of his tunic on habit. His thumb brushes against the burn mark that stayed on the underside of his elbow for years and his breath still hitched. He purses his lips and cursed the Targaryen Dynasty once more, more than euphoric over the fact that he had all but ended the bloody fools.

The Mad King should have died before he was out of his mother's womb.

Jaime hears a whisper and a sniffle and he's instantly on alert. The dagger at his waist is unsheathed within a moment and he walks towards the sound, only to realise it's coming from behind a pillar.

He rounds the pillar in a quick step and stops short abruptly. It's Myrcella and Tommen.

Myrcella, dressed in an unbelievably beautiful saffron dress that looks like the fabric is made of magic, holds a blood stained Tommen. Jaime instantly kneels down and sheathes his dagger back. "Your highness?"

It's the first time that the address has bothered him to speak. Obviously, these children are but a result of his and Cersei's bond and they're a result of only that— a copy of him and his twin, but. But. Myrcella looks up at him with big eyes that are tearing up and a nose that is turning red, like his does when he's crying. Tommen is sobbing, hiccuping in a way that is so similar to a child Tyrion that Jaime can't help but want to wrap the boy in his arms.

"Uncle Jaime!" Myrcella wails,"Please, uncle Jaime, please, help us!"

"What's wrong, my princess?" He blinks when he sees them both wince at his voice and he barely stops himself from toppling over. He's barking at them.

Like Robert does.

His softens his voice. "Hush, my children, I apologise for scaring you. Tell me what is wrong so I can get it fixed, please."

It's only after he's finished speaking that he realises he called them his children. It's the truth, but a truth that can get them all killed— burned alive. As all truths often are, it's a truth that can cause death.

"It's Joffrey!" Tommen hiccups. "He—He killed Ser Pounce today. Father slapped him and—"

"And now he's terrorizing Tom!" Myrcella says, looking so ferocious, Jaime wonders how the fuck did anyone even believe these children to be any sorts of fucking stags. They're his. "Please, Uncle, you have to help us! Mother will never speak against Joff, she just scolded us for caring for Ser Pounce more than we care for Joff!"

So that's where she was, he notes distantly. He's somehow even more disappointed.

He doesn't know how to help these children, though. Cersei has already proven to be idiotic and Robert will only care enough to notice that he has three children intact.

But Jaime has raised Tyrion, he thinks. He has raised his younger brother. Joffrey inherited his cruelty from someone, and Jaime has never been in the habit of murdering pets so his younger brother gets progressively more upset.

It's almost like the past is repeating itself. Only, Myrcella is filling the role that Jaime had taken. It makes Jaime's heart ache, somehow. Is his daughter, his darling, his sweet, the best thing he's ever laid eyes on— is she destined for a fate as horrible as his? Unloved, uncared for, humiliated and unwanted?

Jaime pushes the thought away.

She's Myrcella, she's better. She's always going to be wanted, always loved, always cherished. He will die making sure of it if it's the last thing he does.

His children may have inherited his traits, but they will never inherit his fate.

He opens his arms slowly, feeling ridiculous. "How about you come to me and let me hold you, for now? I will see Joffrey and his behaviour, I promise that to you."

Tommen's eyebrows go up and he takes a hesitant step towards Jaime. Myrcella bites her lip but nods and takes a step as well. It's a trigger, and soon, they've taken the measly steps that cross the boundaries of uncle—niece/nephew courtesy. Tommen all but barrels into him and Jaime barely stops himself from falling on his ass.

He wraps his arms around the little boy and falls on the floor anyway to sit with his legs criss-crossed. Tommen seems to squeeze Jaime's sides with all his efforts, the child unable to reach Jaime's back. Jaime holds Tommen's head with his hand tenderly, the way he did when Cersei first placed Tommen in his arms, less than an hour after he was born.

Jaime shifts, pulls Tommen at his side completely and extends his hand to Myrcella, who'd been only clinging to the cloth of his breeches. Myrcella's lips quiver again and she launches herself in his arms.

Jaime has always run away from crying women in general unless it's Cersei, but. It's his daughter that's crying in his arms, probably regretting the family she has been born into.

The feeling of holding them in his arms feels like a privilege.

Myrcella hugs Jaime just as hard and he has his arms supporting the two of them. He's never been too well read, but this feels poetic. They will have his support, they will have his heart as their hearth. He is wholly theirs.

____________________________________________________

Tagging: @dwijbhagat

[horizon-verizon]

The writers are desperately trying to create a situation where it seems like it’s rational for Rhaenyra to be anything but hateful towards Alicent, and to create that situation, they have to isolate Rhaenyra from the characters in the book that she could rely on. Rhaenys and Laena especially were gutted as characters for this reason. I think the writers thought that between Daemon and Alicent, people would think Alicent is somehow better for Rhaenyra.

But then everyone (rightfully) pointed out that NO, Alicent is a despicable person who abuse and torment Rhaenyra and there’s absolutely no reason that Rhaenyra should pick Alicent over Daemon at any point. So now, they’re trying to make Daemon even worse to try and push the Rhaenicent reconciliation agenda.

All this really irks me because the character of Rhaenys got so fucking destroyed by the show and I think this is an example of the writers undermining/erasing what could have been a compelling and powerful mentorship/maternal relationship where Rhaenys supports, advice and guide the younger generation in getting what was stolen from her. Instead we got a Rhaenys that was cold, distant, bitter, jealous.

I write about why I dislike show!Rhaenys HERE, HERE, and @pessimisticpigeonsworld's post HERE.

We don't have proof that Rhaenys in the book did this for Rhaenyra for a protracted length of time...but why is Rhaenys as contradictory, anti-war-even-when-the-greens-are-bringing-it-to-your-doorstep-and-always-will-monitor-your-granddaughters a "better" depiction?! Again, I can definitely see her being resentful even book wise...but to go so far as to deny reality or to keep her static-ly unwilling to, as I said before, "stick it to 'em" by supporting Rhaenyra, this reads as somehow "evil"?

[moseslikellamas]

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂 pt.11

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - Shanda begins to see the depth of Benjicot Blackwood.

Warnings - fem!reader, suspense, mentions of violence, adult language, period typical misogyny, condescension, adult language, complicated family dynamics, feud behavior, misplaced rage, feelings of guilt, manipulation, benjicot brainrot, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count - 2k

If you’re thinking wow there’s no plot. Thats because I’m great at delaying. But if you’re thinking girl get a grip, there is a reckoning coming for Benji. He’s just playing 4d chess rn. I was listening to this song while writing this, if you want the vibes. It is a cliffhanger bc I have work agony.

Shanda was pacing in front of her window. All she ever did was pace these days. Back and forth like a caged animal. She wondered when she would rub a hole through the stone. She’d overheard something she wasn’t supposed to.

“…burned through the night. Amos sent a letter blaming us of course.”

“Do we know who cou…”

The guard who had definitely not been where he should’ve had wandered back and intercepted her. He hadn’t even asked how she had gotten out of her room. Blackwood guards truly were incompetent. She doubted he’d even mention she had been out. The snippet was enough to snap her back to reality. Something had happened back home and her father was accusing the Blackwoods. Nothing new there but it was the implication that struck her. Had her father written to lay blame on them? Why hadn’t any of them tried to contact her?

If she didn’t get out of this castle soon she was going to start climbing the walls. She had never had this much free time to sit and think. She was stewing in her own thoughts. So she paced to give herself something to do physically while her mind turned in pointless circles. The first point being she hated Benjicot Blackwood. Hated him with a deep and ugly passion that burned dark and slow inside of her. She wanted to end him and ruin that horrible triumphant expression he always wore. The second point was that she was a filthy hypocrite who couldn’t hold onto any brainpower when he invaded her space. Underneath that burning hatred was a simmering flame of desire that spiral out of control in his presence. So she went round and round in a cycle of anger and shame.

Then she would wait for him to show up and start the cycle all over again. She’d immediately blocked his words from her mind. She couldn’t bear to think about it. He’d struck her low by bringing her mother up and she wished she could talk to her mother. But on second thought maybe not. Her mother would’ve seen through her in an instant and would not allow her to lie to herself. Okay, then what should I do? She asked herself, pausing in her hurried pacing to stare outside.It was almost sunny, the overcast clouds covered the sky but they were thin allowing light to shine through. He’d exposed her weaknesses and was playing her way too easily. She needed to find something to use to her advantage, maybe she could find a way to sway him into giving her what she wanted most.

Information was the most valuable currency and she was so in the dark she might as well be beneath the ground. She knew whatever he did tell her would be slanted of course but that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth hearing. She would just have to buck up, she couldn’t stand around blushing forever.

***

“She just stands around blushing. It’s quite cute I must admit.” Ben said to his aunt, staring dreamily off into space.

“You know there’s more to marriage than staring at each other right?”

He shot her a questioning look. Surely she didn’t mean…? Alysanne snapped her fingers at him.

“Think with your brain, Benjicot! Your wife will help you run this place, have you tried to get her interested in the house duties?”

He frowned. How was he supposed to do that when the girl couldn’t look him in the eyes?

“She’s timid.” He said defensively.

“You’re a pig. Give her space to breathe, you’ll find most people think better that way.”

“Mm. I don’t think we want her thinking that clearly. She might remember we’re ‘mortal enemies’.” He smirked thinking of her trying to convince herself of that fact by reminding him of the feud he was still actively fighting. When he wasn’t with her he was bloodying Brackens across the borderlands with impunity. It was almost the perfect life and it would be perfect when she was his wife. A scheme Alysanne was reluctantly a part of mostly because she couldn’t think of a good way to stop him. He’d set too much of it in motion without her knowledge. Alysanne wasn’t involved with borderland guard rounds.

“I gave you less than an inch, Benji. Just do guard duty and figure out whose crossing onto our side of the river.”

“I did both Aly.”

“You started a fiasco because you can’t keep your dick in your pants! And you had better hope that this little plan of yours works or you won’t have to worry about fighting in a war. Because I’ll kill you in front of Elmo Tully and save us all the trouble!”

He shrugged, grinning at her. “It’ll work. She’ll do fine at her duties. Stone Hedge is literally burning without her. Seems she does all the management there anyway. Having her will cripple them immensely.”

“I just want you to think about the consequences of your actions before you act, Benji.”

“Acting is so much fun though, dear Aunt.”

“One of these days it's going to backfire on you, Benjicot! Mark my words.”

Ben was already walking off though, he’d come to update his aunt on the affairs in the Borderlands and ended up with a scolding he promptly ignored. He needed a bath, so he headed up to his chambers. But paused outside of Shanda’s room. Ear pressed against her door he could hear the scuff of her shoes brushing the stone floor. She was pacing again. He fought back a chuckle.

He had her exactly where he intended. Flustered, confused and ashamed. There was no shame in his eyes over the attraction situation but she would not be able to look her family in the eyes. And that would play into his hand perfectly. Lord Tully would pick up on her nervous energy in a second and try to flay her open for answers. The conflict in the borderlands was trying to escalate but Ben had strict instructions for the guards to pull back if they couldn’t downgrade the fights to fists only. Killing a Bracken wouldn’t reflect well on him now, with her so wound up, looking for a reason good enough to condemn him for. He pushed the door open.

***

“If you need some exercise we could always start wrestling again.”

Shanda whipped her head around, glaring at the heir before continuing to pace, ignoring him. He was covered in blood. Splashes of it coated his shirt, staining it dark brown. Whatever messed up idea was running through his head did not concern her. She should be worrying about her brothers and sending curses through the sands of time to condemn the Blackwoods to generations of misery.

“Would you care to take a walk with me? I was thinking of swinging by the library. Could be a good opportunity for you to get out of this room.”

She stopped pacing then. She would kill to see what books the Blackwoods had stashed in their library. She might not worship the old gods like them but she recognized the value in preserving old information. And those who did worship the old gods had a reverence for the past while others did not. How he could be so infuriating one second and then so thoughtfully sweet the next was mind boggling. She didn’t know what to make of his constantly switching moods. But she did want to go to the library. She just wished she’d thought to ask Alysanne to take her instead.

“Wouldn’t you like to clean up a bit first?” She replied, folding her hands in front of her. She squared her shoulders, trying to steel herself for his answer.

But Benjicot was strangely normal about it, just nodding. Then disappearing without a word, only to arrive minutes later hair dripping. For a torturous moment her mind conjured the image of him sliding in a tub, chest smeared in blood. And she had turned a shade of bright red before shaking the image away. He didn’t comment on her face if he’d noticed. Just offered his arm and led her from the room. The halls of Raventree were a maze of twisting walls, which is why she’d been unsuccessful in sneaking out.

Everytime an incompetent guard left his post, she would slip out of her room and try her odds. But she always ended up lost and would lie if asked about it. That’s how she’d heard about the conversation concerning Stone Hedge. The halls never seemed to end though and the heir took her a different route every time they went anywhere, deliberately misleading her.

They walked in a relatively relaxed silence. She was anxious but then she was always anxious these days. She yearned to be in her own room again. She wanted to hug Martyn until winter came and knock Royce over the head. Instead she sighed and kept walking.

“Care to share your thoughts?” He asked, his voice was soft and low in the empty halls.

The sound of it made her stomach flip.

“You wouldn’t like to hear them.”

“I want to hear anything you have to say. Good or bad.” He said firmly.

She didn’t believe him. There were plenty of things she could say that would set him off in some manner. But she was enjoying the calmer mood so she didn’t say anything at all. Just walked in calm silence until they reached the library. The doors were a strong wood, carved with the visage of a weirwood tree. It struck her as eerily similar as the image of the stained glass window in the sept at Stone Hedge. But she didn’t get to admire them long before Benjicot had pushed them open.

She was greeted with shelves that stretched much higher than she’d ever seen and at least three times as large as the one at Stone Hedge. She knew why the rumor was the Blackwoods had stolen Raventree from them. She was envious enough of the library she would take up the cause, true or not. She’d forgotten about the man beside her as she stepped in looking up in awe. Normon would have to triple his citadel book stealing if they hoped to have half of this much valuable information.

“Come over here.”

She turned around to see Benjicot at a table, motioning her over. Reluctantly she walked over to see what he wanted to see her. He was bent over some map sprawled out haphazardly. Upon closer inspection, it detailed all of Westeros. It was incredibly detailed.

“Where’d you get this?”

He looked up from his hunched position to answer. “I made it, of course.”

That shook her up a bit and she touched the gold leafed edges, rubbing the paper in between her fingers. It was too beautiful and delicate to have been made by him. She let her eyes scan over the whole of the map before they fell upon her house. Without meaning to, she ran her fingers over the image of Stone Hedge.

Then she looked back at him. He was looking at her already, predictably. “It’s impressive. I didn’t know you could hold an ink brush that delicately.” It was a backhanded compliment but the nicest she’d ever verbally been to him.

“You don’t know a lot about me. Why don’t you have a seat?”

He pulled a chair out for her and she eyed him skeptically. He was being too polite again and then usually precipitated a hand around her neck. But she sat anyway. She watched with a careful intensity as he grabbed various books from the shelves around them. She could see the ripple of his back muscles every time he reached up to grab a book.