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theusurpersdog · 4 years

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A Bird in a Cage

Sansa’s arc in A Clash of Kings is all about boxing her in. Not only is she a hostage in King’s Landing, she’s also expected to pretend she’s not; she has to attend Court with a smile on her face, playing the role of Joffrey’s betrothed every day. Showing any honest emotion is punished by verbal and physical beatings. Her entire life becomes a performance she must put on to keep the monsters at bay. Everything about her world is meant to be stifling; from the physical restrictions to the emotional ones, it all makes her retreat deeper and deeper within herself.

But the real magic of this book is the moments where she finds a way to push back or escape her bounds . . .

Captive

In more ways than one, Sansa is a captive in King’s Landing.

The first kind of abuse she’s subjected to is physical. Beatings are a part of her everyday life. Because Robb was crowned king, or because she was happy Janos Slynt was sent to the Wall, or because Joffrey decided to be especially cruel one day. Sometimes for no reason at all.

She has to take care to dress carefully to hide the bruises:

The gown had long sleeves to hide the bruises on her arms. Those were Joffrey’s gifts as well.

This should go without saying, but domestic abuse is not rational; nothing Sansa does could stop Joffrey from abusing her – no clever words or tricks she could do to keep him happy. Half the time he has her beaten, it’s because of something Robb did.

Because she could be beaten at any moment, Sansa always keeps one eye on Joffrey, terrified that his mood could turn:

So the king had decided to play the gallant today. Sansa was relieved.

. . .

The king was growing bored. It made Sansa anxious. She lowered her eyes and resolved to keep quiet, no matter what. When Joffrey Baratheon’s mood darkened, any chance word might set off one of his rages.

Not only is she afraid of being hit, she’s genuinely afraid he could kill her:

When she doubled over, the knight grabbed her hair and drew his sword, and for one hideous instant she was certain he meant to open her throat.

Sansa knows her life balances on an incredibly delicate string. Jaime being Robb’s prisoner gives the Lannisters a reason to keep her alive, but Joffrey had reasons to keep Ned alive, too. If anything were to set him off, he would kill Sansa without hesitation. That’s why Sansa feels safer with Cersei around to watch her son, because she’s the only thing that remains to keep Joffrey in check. And Sansa knows that if Robb were to do anything to Jaime, her life would be over:

Gods be good, don’t let it be the Kingslayer. If Robb had harmed Jaime Lannister, it would mean her life. She thought of Ser Ilyn, and how those terrible pale eyes staring pitilessly out of that gaunt pockmarked face.

The beating she endures after Robb wins the battle at Oxcross is so bad that she can barely walk afterward; and as I already mention above, she has to be careful to wear dresses to hide her bruises.

And not only does she have to endure the abuse, she also has to carry on the farce for the rest of the court. Everyone knows she’s a prisoner, and everyone knows that Joffrey is having the Kingsguard beat her, but she’s not allowed to show it; all of her pain has to be kept hidden, pushed deep down inside herself.

Which leads me to the other kind of abuse Sansa experiences in King’s Landing. Everything about her time there is meant to emotionally destroy her. Joffrey intentionally tries to taunt her with threats to murder her family:

“It’s almost as good as if some wolf killed your traitor brother. Maybe I’ll feed him to wolves after I’ve caught him.

. . .

“I’d sooner have Robb Stark’s head,” Joff said with a sly glance toward Sansa.

. . .

“I’ll deal with your brother after I’m done with my traitor uncle. I’ll gut him with Hearteater, you’ll see.”

He loves to play mind games with her, like when he promised to show Ned mercy and then cut off his head and said that was mercy. The constant way that he twists reality around messes with her head and leaves her understandably paranoid:

What if it was some cruel jape of Joffrey’s, like the day he had taken her up to the battlements to show her Father’s head? Or perhaps it was some subtle snare to prove she was not loyal. If she went to the godswood, would she find Ser Ilyn Payne waiting for her, sitting silent under the heart tree with Ice in his hand, his pale eyes watching to see if she’d come?

The constant cruelty she suffers, and Joffrey and Cersei’s profound betrayal at the end of A Game of Thrones, make it hard for her to trust anyone, even when they show kindness:

He speaks more gently than Joffrey, she thought, but the queen spoke to me gently too. He’s still a Lannister, her brother and Joff’s uncle, and no friend. Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father’s head. Sansa would never make that mistake again.

How is she supposed to trust anyone, when everything around her is false? When everything is a carefully constructed jape at her expense? Especially because she’s surrounded by enemies; anyone making their home in Joffrey’s court is sworn to kill Sansa’s family.

And Cersei intentionally makes her isolation worse, rotating her bedmaids:

Sansa did not know her. The queen had her servants changed every fortnight, to make certain none of them befriended her.

Sansa truly has no one to talk to, not even friendly servants to keep her company. Her loneliness is so profound that she enjoys being watched over by Arys Oakheart because he’s the only person who will actually talk to her.

She realizes that no one in King’s Landing cares if she lives or dies:

She [Cersei] spared Sansa not so much as a glance. She’s forgotten me. Ser Ilyn will kill me and she won’t even think about it.

And before the Battle of the Blackwater started, Tyrion told her this:

“I ought to have sent you off with Tommen now that I think on it.”

Unlike Joffrey and Cersei, Tyrion doesn’t wish Sansa any harm; he orders Joffrey’s men to stop hitting her, tries to comfort her afterward, and doesn’t want her to be married to Joffrey. But she is not one of his priorities. It didn’t even occur to him to try and get her safely out of the city.

This is dehumanizing. Sansa has no friends or even anyone to talk to, and the people around her treat her life as an afterthought.

Sansa also suffers from the emotional fallout of Joffrey’s abuse. She blames herself when he has men hit her:

She must learn to hide her feelings better, so as not to anger Joffrey.

The fear of being hit by Joffrey is nearly all-consuming for Sansa. It affects everything down to the smallest details of her life, like how she dresses and does her hair:

I have to look pretty, Joff likes me to look pretty, he’s always liked me in this gown, this color.

Instead of getting to live as her own person, doing things to make herself happy, Sansa has to live for Joffrey’s satisfaction. Even when she’s being physically beaten, she thinks of him instead of herself:

Laugh, Joffrey, she prayed as the juice ran down her face and the front of her blue silk gown. Laugh and be satisfied.

Everything about her life is a performance for other people. She wears the gowns and jewels Joffrey likes, dressing to hide the bruises his men leave all over, and says the words they tell her to say:

“My father was a traitor,” Sansa said at once. “And my brother and lady mother are traitors as well.” That reflex she had learned quickly. “I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey.”

Sansa repeats that phrase over and over throughout the book, always at once. Almost like a reflex. An actor on stage repeating their lines, rehearsed and performed a thousand times.

The worst part of the act is that everyone knows it’s exactly that: an act. Sansa is required, every day, to declare that her family are traitors who deserve to die, and for no reason at all. The way Joffrey abuses her is an open secret:

“He’s never been able to forget that day on the Trident when you saw her shame him, so he shames you in turn. You’re stronger than you seem, though. I expect you’ll survive a bit of humiliation.”

There is no way anyone could ever believe Sansa actually loves the boy who killed her father and intentionally humiliates her in front of his court. No matter how well Sansa tells the lie, it will always be see-through; especially because everyone knows that she’s a prisoner, being held until Jaime is freed. Sansa has to repeat the lie of believing her family to be traitors to try and please the Lannisters – if she said anything different she would be beaten or killed – but there’s no way they will ever be happy, because even when Sansa says the lies as convincingly as humanly possible, they know they’re lies because there’s no way they could be anything else. Sansa cannot win.

That’s never clearer than during her conversation with Cersei inside Maegar’s Holdfast, while the Battle of the Blackwater rages on:

“I pray for Joffrey,” she insisted nervously.

“Why, because he treats you so sweetly?” The queen took a flagon of sweet plum wine from a passing serving girl and filled Sansa’s cup. “Drink,” she commanded coldly. “Perhaps it will give you the courage to deal with truth for a change.”

If Sansa told Cersei the truth in this moment, she would be severely punished. And Cersei knows that, because she would be the one doing the punishing. Yet she verbally berates Sansa anyway.

The same dynamic plays out between Sansa and the Hound. At the end of A Game of Thrones, he gives her this bit of advice:

“Save yourself some pain, girl, and give him what he wants.”

And as one of Joffrey’s Kingsguard, he knows first hand of the abuse Sansa suffers if she says anything that could even be construed as out of line. Yet when Sansa tries to follow the advice he gave her, he throws it back in her face:

“ah, you're still a stupid little bird, aren't you? Singing all the songs they taught you”

Everyone in King’s Landing is always threatening to kill Sansa if she tells them the truth, and then calling her stupid when she repeats back the lies they want to hear. They’re forcefully dehumanizing her, demanding she remove all of her own thoughts and emotions and replace them with hollow lines they’ve given her, and then getting mad when her words are empty.

This plays on one of Sansa’s greatest insecurities about herself, which is her intelligence. Because of her low self-esteem, she already thinks of herself as being less-than. That’s very clear whenever she does an act of kindness – she steadfastly refuses to give herself credit for anything:

Sansa could not believe she had spoken. Was she mad? To tell him no in front of half the court?

. . .

Lancel was one of them, yet somehow she still could not bring herself to wish him dead. I am soft and weak and stupid, just as Joffrey says. I should be killing him, not helping him.

She never thinks to herself You are doing this because you are a good person. She always punishes herself internally, calling herself stupid and childish for believing in good things. Joffrey and Cersei have destroyed her so much that she can only see herself through their eyes, cruel and mocking.

The fear that she’s stupid is one of her greatest anxieties:

“My Jonquil’s a clever girl, isn’t she?”

“Joffrey and his mother say I’m stupid.”

And she doesn’t like to be watched by Ser Preston Greenfield because he treated her like a lackwit child.

Everyone around her is comfortable calling her stupid and emotionally abusing her, and it’s easy for Sansa to start internalizing those messages. Joffrey and Cersei’s betrayal at the end of A Game of Thrones forever changed Sansa; the fear that she could ever be so wrong again, and the fear that she was stupid to believe in them, haunts her. Throughout her time in King’s Landing, her self-worth plummets, and she really starts to believe all the things that Joffrey, Cersei, and everyone is always telling her about herself.

Because she has to endure so much abuse and cruelty every day, it starts to become normal to Sansa. Compared to the way Joffrey treats her, anything would be an improvement; she has a soft spot for Arys Oakheart because he hesitated to hit her once:

Arys Oakheart was courteous, and would talk to her cordially. Once he even objected when Joffrey commanded him to hit her. He did hit her in the end, but not hard as Ser Meryn or Ser Boros might have, and at least he had argued.

At least he had argued is one of the saddest lines in a series of books that has a lot of sad lines. Sansa expects so little of the people around her, and is subjected to so much cruelty, that the mere act of hesitating before hitting a defenseless child is enough to stand out in her memory as an act of kindness.

And Sansa thinks this when Tyrion asks her if she’s flowered yet:

Sansa blushed. It was a rude question, but the shame of being stripped before half the castle made it seem like nothing.

This is a perfect moment to show the small ways in which Joffrey is breaking her down emotionally. Tyrion’s question is embarrassing and impolite, but Sansa doesn’t even care because it is so much less embarrassing than the humiliations Joffrey makes her suffer. Joffrey has set the bar for cruelty so high that Sansa is willing to ignore others mistreating her because it isn’t as bad as Joffrey.

The secret friendship she has with Dontos makes this even worse:

“And if I should seem cruel or mocking or indifferent when men are watching, forgive me, child. I have a role to play, and you must do the same. One misstep and our heads will adorn the walls as did your father’s.”

Dontos is not wrong, but it doesn’t make it any less toxic a message for Sansa to hear: I’m cruel and hit you for your own protection. That’s on display when Joffrey is beating Sansa for Robb’s victory at Oxcross:

“Let me beat her!” Ser Dontos shoved forward, tin armor clattering. He was armed with a “Morningstar” whose head was a melon. My Florian. She could have kissed him, blotchy skin and broken veins and all.

Sansa is happy that Dontos is the one hitting her, because at least it’s better than Meryn Trant and Boros Blount. Dontos volunteering to hit her is an act of kindness for Sansa; which further reinforces the idea that someone hitting her is okay.

All of this works to lower Sansa’s standards and warp her perception of what is and isn’t okay; and in the case of Dontos, it is outright grooming on the part of Littlefinger. He intentionally paid an older man to win Sansa’s trust and get her used to the dynamic of secrecy and pushing boundaries, all so he can swoop in during A Storm of Swords. Sansa’s stuck in an endless cycle of her abuse conditioning her to accept more abuse.

All of the abuse and isolation Sansa suffers also leaves her incredibly depressed throughout A Clash of Kings. When she gets the note telling her to go to the Godswood, she thinks she will kill herself before she’s caught:

If it is some trap, better that I die than let them hurt me more, she told herself.

After the bread riot, Sansa has panic attacks; so much so that she feels suffocated in small rooms:

Sansa could go where she would so long as she did not try to leave the castle, but there was nowhere she wanted to go. She crossed over the dry moat with its cruel iron spikes and made her way up the narrow turnpike stair, but when she reached the door of her bedchamber she could not bear to enter. The very walls of the room made her feel trapped; even with the window opened wide it felt as though there was no air to breathe.

She likes to go up to the roof of the tower so she can see the entire city laid before her; it’s the only place where she doesn’t feel so claustrophobic and trapped.

That passage is also so fantastically written to show just how depressed Sansa is. Sansa could go where she would so long as she did not try to leave the castle, but there was nowhere she wanted to go. She's too depressed to go riding around the courtyard; she doesn’t see the point in going around in circles. We know from A Game of Thrones that Sansa has plenty of hobbies: playing the high harp, needlepoint, reading, and sharing gossip with her best friend. In A Clash of Kings, she’s too isolated to have anyone to talk to, but we never see her doing any of her other hobbies either. Nothing brings Sansa happiness in this book.

Especially because she’s constantly surrounded by reminders of her trauma. The way Sansa copes with her grief is by pushing it out of her mind and pretending like it doesn’t exist:

Sansa did not know what had happened to Jeyne, who had disappeared from her rooms afterward, never to be mentioned again. She tried not to think of them too often, yet sometimes the memories came unbidden, and then it was hard to hold back the tears.

Sansa actively tries to forget about the people who mean the most to her because it hurts too much to think of them.

But she can’t forget about Ned when she’s surrounded by reminders of his death. Joffrey and Cersei intentionally throw it in her face, and she has to walk through the same halls his men died in:

Sansa moved as if in a dream. She thought the Imp’s men would take her back to her bedchamber in Maegor’s Holdfast, but instead they conducted her to the Tower of the Hand. She had not set foot inside that place since the day her father fell from grace, and it made her feel faint to climb those steps again.

The reminder that hurts the most is the presence of Ilyn Payne, a recurring figure in all of Sansa’s nightmares. Just his presence makes Sansa’s skin crawl:

She was climbing the dais when she saw the man standing in the shadows by the back wall. He wore a long hauberk of oiled black mail, and held his sword before him: her father's greatsword, Ice, near as tall as he was. Its point rested on the floor, and his hard bony fingers curled around the crossguard on either side of the grip. Sansa's breath caught in her throat.

. . .

She looked for Ser Ilyn, but the King's Justice was not to be seen. I can feel him, though. He's close

When Sansa’s afraid she’s going to die, it’s always his blade she fears:

I'll not escape him, he'll have my head.

. . .

Ser Ilyn will kill me and she won't even think about it.

. . .

If she went to the godswood, would she find Ser Ilyn Payne waiting for her, sitting silent under the heart tree with Ice in his hand, his pale eyes watching to see if she'd come?

. . .

If Robb had harmed Jaime Lannister, it would mean her life. She thought of Ser Ilyn, and how those terrible pale eyes staring pitilessly out of that gaunt pockmarked face.

Watching Ilyn Payne kill her father is the worst thing that ever happened to Sansa, and she lives in constant fear that the same thing could happen to her.

The only thing that keeps her going is the thought of her family. Sansa is insecure in herself enough to start believing the abuse that Joffrey and Cersei inflict on her; but she loves her family too much to ever believe the lies about them. Even though she’s forced to declare them traitors every single day, her internal monologue is always fighting against it:

Rob will kill you all, she thought, exulting

. . .

I pray for Robb’s victory and Joffrey’s death . . . and for home. For Winterfell.

She even finds a way to make Joffrey’s words work in her favor:

“Did I tell you, I intend to challenge him to single combat?"

"I should like to see that, Your Grace." More than you know. Sansa kept her tone cool and polite, yet even so Joffrey's eyes narrowed as he tried to decide whether she was mocking him.

One of the only moments where Sansa is even remotely happy in this book comes when she’s talking to Tommen, because he reminds her of Bran:

Princess Myrcella nodded a shy greeting at the sound of Sansa’s name, but plump little Prince Tommen jumped up eagerly. “Sansa, did you hear? I’m to ride in the tourney today. Mother said I could.” Tommen was all of eight. He reminded her of her own little brother, Bran. They were of an age. Bran was back at Winterfell, a cripple, yet safe.

Sansa would have given anything to be with him. “I fear for the life of your foeman,” she told Tommen solemnly.

That’s a short passage, but it so beautifully captures a small piece of what Sansa is truly like, outside of the abuse and the fearing for her life and the never being able to express her emotions. She loves her family so much and wants nothing more than to be with Bran again. And while Joffrey mocks Tommen for his knightly dreams, Sansa is so nice to him, building up his confidence before he competes. She’s old enough to have grown passed the childishness of Tommen facing the quintain, but because she knows how important it is to Tommen, she gladly plays along with him. We never got to see any scenes in A Game of Thrones of Sansa interacting with Bran and getting to act like a big sister, but this scene does such a good job of showing us that Sansa was a great sister to him.

Sansa also feels a much stronger connection to the Godswood, the ancestral home of her father’s gods:

The air was rich with the smells of earth and leaf. Lady would have liked this place, she thought. There was something wild about a godswood, even here, in the heart of the castle at the heart of the city, you could feel the old gods watching with a thousand unseen eyes.

And even though Lady’s long dead, Sansa still has a strong connection to her wolf. When she believes she’s going to die during the Blackwater, Lady is the first thing she thinks of:

“Lady,” she whimpered softly, wondering if she would meet her wolf again when she was dead.

The more abuse Sansa suffers and the more pressure is put on her to denounce her family as traitors and give up on ever going home, the more Sansa falls back on her family. That’s the only form of comfort she has in King’s Landing; the memory of Winterfell, and the belief that Robb is coming to save her.

The Lannisters have Sansa held captive physically and emotionally in King’s Landing; she has to suffer through beatings and repeat their words to stay alive. But as long as Sansa has her family - has Winterfell - to hold onto, there is a part of her that the Lannisters can never have. Even if it’s only within the walls of her own mind, Sansa has fought herself a small piece of freedom.

Courtesy is a Lady’s Armor

Trapped within the political machinations of King’s Landing, Sansa starts to learn how to play the game in earnest.

Even before she consciously starts to do it, though, Sansa is already in many ways an adept political actor. There’s a reason that all highborn children are taught from a young age how to conduct themselves; Westeros is a society built on the cornerstone of tradition, and knowing how to perform courtly behavior is important. Because Sansa took all of Septa Mordane’s training seriously, she already knows how to walk the dangerous tightrope of courtly speak:

Sansa felt that she ought to say something. What was it that Septa Mordane used to tell her? A lady’s armor is courtesy, that was it. She donned her armor and said, “I’m sorry my lady mother took you captive, my lord.”

This is the same skill we saw in her second chapter of A Game of Thrones, when she was proud of herself for telling the Hound that no one could withstand Gregor during the tourney – she managed to say something courteous without telling a lie. Just as she did then, Sansa manages to say an apology to Tyrion that’s true.

It also shows just how good Sansa is at keeping a level head, because just moments before she was thinking this:

Tyrion turned to Sansa. "My lady, I am sorry for your losses. Truly, the gods are cruel."

Sansa could not think of a word to say to him. How could he be sorry for her losses? Was he mocking her? It wasn’t the gods who’d been cruel, it was Joffrey.

Faced with the men responsible for killing her father, she manages to think on her feet and fulfill the role of a Lady.

She also learns how to use that same skill to benefit herself. Whereas at first she was just trying to perform the functions of a Lady, she starts to use her courtesy to talk the people around her into helping her in such a way that they don’t even realize it’s happening:

“I would sooner return to my own bed.” A lie came to her suddenly, but it seemed so right that she blurted it out at once. “This tower was where my father’s men were slain Their ghosts would give me terrible dreams, and I would see their blood wherever I looked.”

Tyrion Lannister studied her face. “I am no stranger to nightmares, Sansa. Perhaps you are wiser than I knew. Permit me at least to escort you safely back to your own chambers.”

Part of why Sansa’s so naturally gifted at this kind of political double speak is because she understands people so well; she’s an empathetic and emotional character, and is extremely aware of the emotions of everyone around her. To affectively influence others, you need to understand what they want and be able to give it to them. Because Sansa is so aware of the people around her, she intuitively knows what they want; and all she wants to do is give it to them, because she doesn’t want to be hurt again.

The whole conversation she has with Tyrion in the Tower of the Hand does an excellent job showing how intelligent she is:

“I . . .” Sansa did not know what to say. Is it a trick? Will he punish me if I tell the truth? She stared at the dwarf’s brutal bulging brow, the hard black eye and the shrewd green one, the crooked teeth and wiry beard. “I only want to be loyal.”

“Loyal,” the dwarf mused, “and far from any Lannisters. I can scarce blame you for that. When I was your age, I wanted the same thing.” He smiled. “They tell me you visit the godswood every day. What do you pray for, Sansa?”

I pray for Robb’s victory and Joffrey’s death . . . and for home. For Winterfell. “I pray for an end to the fighting.”

Again, she shows an unparalleled ability to lie without actually lying. And she’s clever enough to tell Tyrion what he wants to hear without saying anything that’s actually false, that way it can’t come back to bite her later. She learned her lesson in A Game of Thrones not to trust someone just because they’re kind, and is careful not to show her cards to Tyrion. But in case he’s being honest in trying to help her, Sansa does not reaffirm her love for Joffrey. That’s why her answer of I only want to be loyal is so smart; whether Tyrion is playing her false or no, Sansa has given him the answer he wants to hear. She’s kept all of her doors open without creating additional risk for herself.

Having to survive Joffrey every day also teaches Sansa how to get what she wants without actually having to say it. When she saves Dontos’ life, she plays to Joffrey’s ego:

Unhappy, Joffrey shifted in his seat and flicked his fingers at Ser Dontos. "Take him away. I'll have him killed on the morrow, the fool."

"He is," Sansa said. "A fool. You're so clever, to see it. He's better fitted to be a fool than a knight, isn't he? You ought to dress him in motley and make him clown for you. He doesn't deserve the mercy of a quick death."

All Sansa wants is to save Dontos’ life, and in the moment she comes up with a spectacular lie. Of course Joffrey would think it humiliating to make Dontos into a fool, so Sansa convinces him that would be an even greater punishment than death. She manipulates Joffrey into doing what she wants him to, and he doesn’t even know it’s happened.

Learning how to slyly insult Joffrey is one of the few ways Sansa can actually express herself as a prisoner, and she gets incredibly good at it. She starts by passive-aggressively getting one over on him:

“Did I tell you, I intend to challenge him to single combat?"

"I should like to see that, Your Grace." More than you know. Sansa kept her tone cool and polite, yet even so Joffrey's eyes narrowed as he tried to decide whether she was mocking him.

But as she gets better at politics she goes even further, actively tempting Joffrey into getting himself killed:

“They say my brother Robb always goes where the fighting is thickest,” she said recklessly. “Though he’s older than Your Grace, to be sure. A man grown.”

Joffrey’s biggest insecurity is that he can’t rule in his own right; Cersei won’t let him do certain things, and Tyrion is in charge of him as the Hand of the King because he hasn’t come of age yet. While Joffrey’s anger is normally aimed destructively at Sansa, here she figures out a way to make it work for her; using his own emotions against him to do something reckless.

As well as learning the art of political double-speak, Sansa starts to understand the broader political machinations at work. Because she was a diligent student of Catelyn and Septa Mordane, she has almost every sigil in Westeros memorized; at Joffrey’s name-day tourney, she recognizes every competitor by their House. This may seem unimportant at first glance, but it’s actually very important; twice in Arya’s chapters in A Clash of Kings she wishes she knew Houses and Sigils as well as Sansa, because than she would know who she was dealing with.

Since Sansa knows who everyone is, she has head start in understanding where everyone’s loyalties lie. On top of that, she’s also incredibly observant; she’s constantly taking in everything around her, stopping to pay attention to every little detail and interaction between people. Even though Cersei and Joffrey are trying to keep it hidden, Sansa notices that Joffrey’s tourney is held inside the Keep because he would be mobbed if they went out into the city. And she knows the Redwyne twins are hostages just as much as she is:

The Redwyne twins were the queen’s unwilling guests, even as Sansa was. She wondered whose notion it had been for them to ride in Joffrey’s tourney. Not their own, she thought.

That’s not something anyone would have told Sansa. For one, no one is even allowed to talk to her per Cersei’s orders. For two, Cersei doesn’t let anyone acknowledge that she has hostages – in the same way Sansa has to pretend she is a guest of Joffrey’s court, the Redwynes have to pretend they’re willing guests. That means that Sansa, with no help from anyone, has of her own accord put all the pieces together and realized the Redwynes are political pawns just like her. Very impressive for a twelve-year-old.

Sansa’s attention to detail is clear when she meets Shae, and immediately notices something is not right with her:

Lollys clutched at her maid, a slender, pretty girl with short dark hair who looked as though she wanted nothing so much as to show her mistress into the dry moat, onto those iron spikes.

And when she’s entering Maegar’s Holdfast at the start of the Blackwater, and notices the guards:

The two guards at the door wore the lin-crested helms and crimson cloaks of House Lannister, but Sansa knew they were only dressed-up sellswords. Another sat at the foot of the stair – a real guard would have been standing, not sitting on a step with his halberd across his knees – but he rose when he saw them and opened the door to usher them inside.

Her encyclopedic knowledge of Westerosi Houses and her attention to detail combine to give her a really good head for political machinations. She sees how the Lannisters use empty titles to flatter their lesser servants while saving the best prizes for their family:

Hallyne the Pyromancer and the masters of the Alchemists’ was raised to the style of lord, though Sansa noted that neither lands nor castle accompanied the title, which made the alchemist no more a true lord than Varys was. A more significant lordship by far was granted to Ser Lancel Lannister.

She manages to keep pace with Littlefinger and Tywin’s games:

She did not understand why that should make him so happy; the honors were as empty as the title granted to Hallyne the Pyromancer. Harrenhal was cursed, everyone knew that, and the Lannisters did not even hold it at present. Besides, the lords of the Trident were sworn to Riverrun and House Tully, and to the King in the North; they would never accept Littlefinger as their liege. Unless they are made to. Unless my brother and my uncle and my grandfather are all cast down and killed. The thought made Sansa anxious, but she told herself she was being silly. Robb has beaten them every time. He’ll beat Lord Baelish too, if he must.

I cannot emphasize enough that Sansa, following the tiny thread of Littlefinger looks happy to be Lord of Harrenhal, manages to predict the Red Wedding a whole book before it happens. That’s pretty incredible. Right now, Sansa has no power to start pulling meaningful strings of her own, but it’s clear that she fundamentally understands the complexity of geopolitics and would be well-prepared to make decisions of her own when the time comes.

Another way Sansa continues to learn about the realities of ruling is through people around her trying to teach her lessons. Because Sansa’s a hostage and isn’t allowed to say anything she feels, she basically becomes a blank slate for people to project whatever they want onto. Cersei, Dontos, and the Hound all try to ��teach” her something as they project all of their own fears, insecurities, and trauma onto her.

Dontos tells her to play the fool:

“Joffrey and his mother say I’m stupid.”

“Let them. You’re safer that way, sweetling. Queen Cersei and the Imp and Lord Varys and their like, they all watch each other keen as hawks, and pay this one and that one to spy out what the others are doing, but no one ever troubles themselves about Lady Tanda’s daughter, do they?”

Of course, Sansa already knows this. All the way back in her second chapter of A Game of Thrones, Sansa thinks to herself that Moon Boy is smarter than he looks and is only pretending to be a fool so he can go wherever he likes; and Dontos confirms her suspicions when he reveals Moon Boy is a spy for Lord Varys.

It’s a consistent pattern that everyone around Sansa is constantly underestimating her; partly because of their own biases, and partly because Sansa is an almost entirely internal character, rarely letting people hear her honest thoughts. People assume she’s as hollow as the words they force her to say, but in reality she’s an introvert and a hostage.

The Hound also feels the need to impart some “lessons” onto Sansa:

Sandor Clegane snorted. “Pretty thing, and such a bad liar. A dog can smell a lie, you know. Look around you, and take a good whiff. They’re all liars here . . . and every one better than you.”

Again, he’s assuming Sansa’s much dumber than she actually is. Sansa already knows that everyone in King’s Landing is a liar, and has sworn to herself never to trust them again.

The most valuable lessons Sansa gets are from Cersei during the Battle of the Blackwater:

“Certain things are expected of a queen. They will be expected of you should you ever wed Joffrey. Best learn.” The queen studied the wives, daughters, and mothers who filled the benches. “Of themselves the hens are nothing, but their cocks are important for one reason or another, and some may survive this battle. So it behooves me to give their women my protection. If my wretched dwarf of a brother should somehow manage to prevail, they will return to their husbands and fathers full of tales about how brave I was, how my courage inspired them and lifted their spirits, how I never doubted our victory even for a moment.”

In this moment, even though she’s not doing a particularly good job actually doing it, Cersei articulates what’s really important about politics: optics. Her true motives for protecting the Ladies don’t matter as long as the Ladies believe that Cersei is doing it for the right reasons. That’s what monarchies are built upon. They’re a fragile house of cards constructed out of people’s belief.

That’s a lesson Sansa learns again when Joffrey sets her aside and takes Margaery as his bride. Sansa knows it’s going to happen, and is coached by Cersei how to react:

I must not smile, she reminded herself. The queen had warned her, no matter what she felt inside, the face she showed the world must look distraught. “I will not have my son humiliated,” Cersei said. “Do you hear me?”

But in front of the court, Joffrey carries on the charade, pretending Garlan’s offer of his sister’s hand is brand new information. Sansa watches from the sidelines and sees how people react; chanting and cheering to the theatre of it all. She gets to learn in real time how important it is to be performing your duties for the people. Other characters – most notably Jon Snow and Daenerys – can never quite figure that part of ruling out, and it has grave consequences.

I don’t mean performing in the negative sense. Of course, it can be used like that, like when the Tyrell’s intentionally starve King’s Landing so they can swoop in and make a big show of providing food. But it can also be used for good; it is an absolutely necessary aspect of ruling to let your people know what you’re doing for them. Jon in particular gets in trouble at the Wall because he doesn’t explain why he does things; he just does them and hopes people will trust him. Part of the courtly aspect of ruling is doing the work of showing your people how you’re helping them. That way you build trust with them, and they know you care for them. That’s what Sansa’s learning how to do.

Sansa’s also very good at the literal courtly aspect of politics; the time actually spent in court, sitting for hours and hours as the tedious day-to-day of ruling takes place. After the Battle of the Blackwater is over, Sansa has to sit in court for an entire day as soldiers are given their reward. She manages to stay focused the whole time, giving incredibly detailed accounts of each prize that’s awarded and each act of valor that caused it. She handles herself better than the grown men in the hall:

By the time all the new knights had been given their sers the hall was growing restive, and none more so than Joffrey. Some of those in the gallery had begun to slip quietly away, but the notables on the floor were trapped, unable to depart without the king’s leave.

Actual adults can’t even tolerate it, but Sansa manages just fine. This talent of hers is taken for granted by readers, but really stands out when you compare it to other characters. Sansa has the benefit of being raised to be a Lady, unlike a character like Daenerys who never had to sit through the training. Dany can’t make it through one day holding court in Meereen, and calls a lid early because she’s so bored – then stops holding court all together. Actually being a Queen is horribly bureaucratic, and that’s a skill that takes some practice to be able to perform.

Sansa’s ability to hold her own as a leader also really shines during the Battle of the Blackwater, when all hope seems lost and Cersei abandons the women in Maegar’s Holdfast:

“Oh, gods,” an old woman wailed. “We’re lost, the battle’s lost, she’s running.” Several children were crying. They can smell the fear. Sansa found herself alone on the dais. Should she stay here, or run after the queen and plead for her life?

She never knew why she got to her feet, but she did. “Don’t be afraid,” she told them loudly. “The queen has raised the drawbridge. This is the safest place in the city. There’s thick walls, the moat, the spikes . . .”

“What’s happened?” demanded a woman she knew slightly, the wife of a lesser lordling. “What did Osney tell her? Is the king hurt, has the city fallen?”

“Tell us,” someone else shouted. One woman asked about her father, another her son.

Sansa raised her hands for quiet. “Joffrey’s come back to the castle. He’s not hurt. They’re still fighting, that’s all I know, they’re fighting bravely. The queen will be back soon.” The last was a lie, but she had to soothe them. She noticed the fools standing under the galley. “Moon Boy, make us laugh.”

Sansa has no reason to do this. Cersei has given Ser Ilyn orders to kill her if the castle falls, and all the women in the holdfast are older than she is. She’s the last person who should be capable of standing up to take charge, considering her age and her impending death by execution.

She knows she’s faced with a choice: try and save her own life, or stay and comfort the women in the holdfast. And she decides to stay.

True Knights

This book sees Sansa’s worldview start to deepen. She’s only a child when the series starts, and like most kids has a very simple understanding of the world; there’s good and bad people, and good and bad things that happen. Songs were the way Sansa gave that worldview structure. They taught her that the good things happened to the good people, and the bad things happened to the bad people. Westeros is fair, and only the good people could be put in charge to do good things. Kings, queens, and knights were all avatars of the inherent goodness of the world; people put in place specifically to protect others.

This worldview became unsustainable for Sansa after Ned’s death. Every single rule the songs taught her was violated by her father’s execution. In her last chapter of A Game of Thrones, we see Sansa turn to nihilism as a result; her father is dead, her prince is a monster, and the knights sworn to protect her are the ones beating her. She doesn’t believe in anything anymore, so much so that she just wants to die.

In A Clash of Kings, Sansa starts to grapple with the overwhelming cognitive dissonance. Ned’s death and Joffrey’s cruelty taught her how evil people can be; but she also knows how good they can be, because she grew up in Winterfell. For all of their shortcomings, Ned and Catelyn were loving parents who tried their best to do good, and raised their kids the same.

Sansa still believes in goodness, but sees that everyone around her fails to live up to it:

Knights are sworn to defend the weak, protect women, and fight for the right, but none of them did a thing. Only Ser Dontos had tried to help, and he was no longer a knight, no more than the Imp was, nor the Hound . . . the Hound hated knights . . . I hate them too, Sansa thought. They are no true knights, not one of them.

Notice how she thinks They are no true knights. Sansa is surrounded by unimaginable cruelty, but she holds on to an undying sense of optimism. She knows that real knights don’t fight for the right, but that doesn’t stop her from continuing to believe in those ideals. Unlike in A Game of Thrones, when her belief in good was attached to specific people like Joffrey and Cersei, Sansa’s new worldview isn’t dependent on people to live up to. She believes in doing the right thing no matter what, even if the people around her let her down.

Sansa’s conception of beauty is the same way; in the first book, she assumed that beautiful people must also be good. But in A Clash of Kings, she reverses that order; people become either beautiful or ugly to her based on how good or bad they are. We view Joffrey through many POVs, and it is clear that by any standard that he is objectively attractive; yet Sansa now finds him ugly:

His plump pink lips always made him look pouty. Sansa had liked that once, but now it made her sick.

And she thinks this of the Hound:

The scars are not the worst part, not even the way his mouth twitches. It’s his eyes. She had never seen eyes so full of anger.

It’s not his physical appearance that scares her, it’s the anger in his eyes. That’s the part of him that’s ugly to her.

This evolution in Sansa’s understanding is never clearer than in her interactions with Dontos. The parts of his appearance that Sansa finds unattractive are his blotchy skin and broken veins, which are both symptoms of his constant drinking. It’s his drinking that bothers her:

“I prayed and prayed. Why would they send me a drunken old fool?”

. . .

This is madness, to trust myself to this drunkard

But Sansa manages to look beyond that as soon as Dontos invokes Florian the Fool. As much as Sansa understands that the songs aren’t true, the idea still appeal to her. When Dontos says he wants to make amends and become a true knight, in spirit if not name, Sansa treats him as if he actually were a knight:

“Rise, ser.”

. . .

Sansa took a step . . . then spun back, nervous, and softly laid a kiss on his cheek, her eyes closed. “My Florian,” she whispered. “The gods heard my prayer.”

Sansa’s growing understanding of the world around her also changes the way she thinks of class. To some extent in A Song of Ice and Fire, every single character is classist because they’re all rich people in an extremely hierarchical society. The entire structure of kings, lord paramounts, lords, knights, and peasants requires you to be classist; if you believe everyone in Westeros is equal, the entire structure of the society crumbles. While some of the POV characters like Jon and Davos make great strides in understanding how bankrupt the Westerosi class structure is, they’re still generally classist; it’s almost impossible not to be when you grow up in the culture they did. Davos grew up poor, but the indoctrination of classism has given him an almost religious fervor to follow Stannis as the “true” king.

Sansa especially had a very rigid understanding of class in A Game of Thrones; Arya making friends with the butcher’s boy was anathema to her. But the more that Sansa sees the people in power as the monsters they really are, the more sympathy she has for the people below her. In the sept praying before the Battle of the Blackwater, she holds hands with a washerwoman:

The old woman’s hand was bony and hard with callus, the boy’s small and soft, but it was good to have someone to hold on to

The more Cersei and Joffrey try to isolate Sansa, the more they try to snuff out any feeling of goodness or loyalty she had, the more Sansa reaches out to connect with people. Everything bad that happens to her makes her feel more connected to the people of King’s Landing. She’s too young and privileged (class-wise) to have a fully functioning understanding of the true evils of hierarchy, but she fundamentally understands something most of the aristocracy do not: that the common people are people and should be treated with respect.

She knows the common people will suffer the most if Stannis breaches the city walls, and prays for theme:

She sang along with grizzled old serving men and anxious young wives, with serving girls and soldiers, cooks and falconers, knights and knaves, squires and spit boys and nursing mothers. She sang with those inside the castle walls and those without, sang with all the city. She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike

Sansa gladly positions herself alongside the working people, not offended to be among them the way the Lannisters certainly are.

Sansa’s deepening worldview also gives her an incredibly complex relationship to the songs and stories she used to love. As I’ve already mentioned, she doesn’t disown them entirely; the high ideals of the songs are still very important to Sansa. The concept of a true knight, who would actually defend the defenseless, is the cornerstone of Sansa’s belief system, and she doesn’t need that person to actually be a knight – as long as they fulfill the moral obligation of being good. (Little does she know that very person is later tasked to find her.)

But now she knows that the stories lie. She understands their role as propaganda; when Arys Oakheart tries to say the peasants believe the comet heralds Joffrey’s reign, she doesn’t believe him:

“Glory to your betrothed,” Ser Arys answered at once. “See how it flames across the sky today on His Grace’s name day, as if the gods themselves had raised a banner in his honor. The smallfolk have named it King Joffrey’s Comet.”

Doubtless that was what they told Joffrey; Sansa was not so sure.

And she can’t even finish a sentence defending knights without realizing it isn’t true:

“Do you have any notion what happens when a city is sacked, Sansa? No, you wouldn’t, would you? All you know of life you learned from singers, and there’s such a dearth of good sacking songs.”

“True knights would never harm women and children.” The words rang hollow in her ears even as she said them.

The words ring hollow in her ears because Sansa does know what happens when a city is sacked; earlier in a previous chapter, she thinks this:

The whole city was afraid. Sansa could see it from the castle walls. The smallfolk were hiding themselves behind closed shutters and barred doors as if that would keep them safe. The last time King’s Landing had fallen, the Lannisters looted and raped as they pleased and put hundreds to the sword, even though the city had opened its gates. This time the Imp meant to fight, and a city that fought could expect no mercy at all.

Cersei underestimates Sansa, assuming everything she knows is from a song, but here we see that Sansa knows that the songs don’t tell the whole story. Unlike in A Game of Thrones, she no longer holds them in complete reverence. The Sept used to represent everything beautiful about the songs to her:

Sansa had favored her mother’s gods over her father’s. She loved the statues, the pictures in leaded glass, the fragrance of burning incense, the septons with their robes and crystals, the magical play of the rainbows over altars inlaid with mother-of-pearl and onyx and lapis lazuli.

It was the song’s come to life. But after Ned’s death, she hates it:

When Sansa had first beheld the Great Sept with its marble walls and seven crystal towers, she’d thought it was the most beautiful building in the world, but that had been before Joffrey beheaded her father on its steps. “I want it burned.”

She literally wants to set fire to the things that used to represent the songs.

But songs and stories are the foundation of Sansa’s world; even though she doesn’t believe in them the way she used to, they still shape her perception. She doesn’t want to let them go:

There are gods, she told herself, and there are true knights too. All the stories can’t be lies.

She still uses the template of songs and stories to interact with the world, but now with the understanding that the world is so much more complicated. Whereas before, the songs represented a sanitized version of war, Sansa begins to understand it in its entirety:

Away off, she could hear the sounds of battle. The singing almost drowned them out, but the sounds were there if you had the ears to hear: the deep moan of warhorns, the creak and thud of catapults flinging stones, the splashes and splinterings, the crackle of burning pitch and thrum of scorpions loosing their yard-long iron-headed shafts . . . and beneath it all, the cries of dying men.

It was another sort of song, a terrible song.

Thinking about something through the lens of a song no longer represents a childish fantasy for Sansa. Her conception of them is no longer permanent; her view of the songs has changed to fit with her new reality, but it’s still a comforting way for her to make sense of the world around her.

She even incorporates her love of the songs into her political manipulations:

"You're lying," Joffrey said. "I ought to drown you with him, if you care for him so much."

"I don't care for him, Your Grace." The words tumbled out desperately. "Drown him or have his head off, only . . . kill him on the morrow, if you like, but please . . . not today, not on your name day. I couldn't bear for you to have ill luck . . . terrible luck, even for kings, the singers all say so . . ."

Her use of the songs nearly saves her life here. Joffrey doesn’t know enough to be sure that she’s lying, so once the Hound corroborates her story, he has to believe it’s true.

Sansa’s attachment to the stories is integral to her character, and GRRM does a tremendous job of making it important to the arc she starts in this book, which is her continued journey from pawn to player in the Game of Thrones. Sansa’s perspective as a political actor is entirely unique from anyone else for many reasons, and one of those is her connection to the ideal version of Westeros that lives in the songs. Even as Sansa realizes the songs are lies and that the world is so much darker than she thought, she never gives up on the hope that it could be good. Her unwavering optimism for the world, in the face of so much trauma, means that she will never stop trying to make the world better.

Flowering

Throughout her time in King’s Landing, Sansa’s experiences with sexuality are inextricably linked to violence. The way Joffrey physically abuses her comes with a nasty undercurrent of sexual violence. The total control he exerts over her means she has to let him do what he wants:

The king settled back in his seat and took Sansa's hand. His touch filled her with revulsion now, but she knew better than to show it. She made herself sit very still.

The subtext of that scene is drawn to the forefront when Joffrey has Sansa beaten after Robb’s victory at Oxcross:

“Leave her face,” Joffrey commanded. “I like her pretty.”

. . .

“Boros, make her naked.”

Boros shoved a meaty hand down the front of Sansa’s bodice and gave a hard yank. The silk came tearing away, baring her to the waist. Sansa covered her breasts with her hands. She could hear sniggers, far off and cruel.

This is one of Sansa’s first experiences with sexuality, and it is nonconsensual and done specifically to humiliate her.

The relationship between sex and violence is never clearer than at the start of the Blackwater:

"Bless my steel with a kiss." He extended the blade down to her. "Go on, kiss it."

He had never sounded more like a stupid little boy. Sansa touched her lips to the metal, thinking that she would kiss any number of swords sooner than Joffrey

Joffrey is asking Sansa to kiss his sword; the metaphor here is not exactly subtle. To Joffrey, sex and violence are one in the same; having power over someone, hurting someone, turns him on as much as physical attraction. And as his betrothed, Sansa is on the receiving end of his sexually charged violence.

Unlike Joffrey, Sansa’s not turned on by violence, seeing it and sexuality as two separates things. And she would rather suffer through the violence, thinking to herself she would rather kiss the sword than kiss Joffrey. Her experiences with being found attractive to someone have all been so traumatic that actual violence scares her less.

Arguably the most traumatic experience she has is during the bread riot:

Sansa dug her nails into her hand. She could feel the fear in her tummy, twisting and pinching, worse every day. Nightmares of the day Princess Myrcella had sailed still troubled her sleep; dark suffocating dreams that woke her in the black of night, struggling for breath. She could hear the people screaming at her, screaming without words, like animals. They had hemmed her in and thrown filth at her and tried to pull her off her horse, and would have done worse if the Hound had not cut his way to her side. They had torn the High Septon to pieces and smashed in Ser Aron's head with a rock. Try not to be afraid! he said.

In the nightmares she has of that day, she dreams of being murdered; a knife cutting through her stomach until she’s left in bloody ribbons. It’s not hard to see the violent sexual imagery in that description. Sansa knows what those men planned on doing to her, and the memory haunts her. It’s no coincidence that she wakes from those nightmares to her first period:

“No, please,” Sansa whimpered, “please, no.” She didn’t want this happening to her, not now, not here, not now, not now, not now, not now.

The way GRRM writes her reaction is so visceral. As tears streams down her cheeks, she tries to wash herself, cuts apart her sheets, burns them, and tries to drag her entire bed into the flames as well. And the whole time she does this, she keeps thinking They’ll know or What will I tell them? or I have to burn them. She’s so completely and utterly terrified that anyone could ever know, she’s hardly even thinking. It’s just sheer, overwhelming panic.

This line in particular stands out:

The bedclothes were burnt, but by the time they carried her off her thighs were bloody again. It was as if her own body had betrayed her to Joffrey, unfurling a banner of Lannister crimson for all the world to see.

Down to jewelry she wears and the way she styles her hair, Sansa’s body belongs to Joffrey. Her job in King’s Landing is to look pretty for him in the hopes that it will save her from his wrath. Her body exists solely to please him. She’s literally stripped of her own agency and control.

Flowering is the last straw for Sansa because it means she can be tied forever to Joffrey through marriage, and he’ll be free to rape her and force her to have his children. And there’s nothing Sansa can do to stop it. Her own body has betrayed her by merely existing.

Sansa’s period is again equated to physical violence during the Battle of the Blackwater:

“You look pale, Sansa,” Cersei observed. “Is your red flower still blooming?”

“Yes.”

“How apt. The men will bleed out there, and you in here.”

Then a second time, Cersei compares sex to violence:

“You little fool. Tears are not a woman’s only weapon. You’ve got another one between your legs, and you’d best learn to use it.”

Through Cersei’s eyes, we get the clearest summary of the point GRRM is trying to make. Existing as a woman in Westeros is inherently oppressive to the point of smothering the life out of her. Where the men are given swords, women are given marriage and childbirth; but the latter is no less violent than the former. In Cersei’s words:

“We were so much alike, I could never understand why they treated us so differently. Jaime learned to fight with sword and lance and mace, while I was taught to smile and sing and please. He was heir to Casterly Rock, while I was to be sold to some stranger like a horse, to be ridden whenever my new owner liked, beaten whenever he liked, and cast aside in time for a younger filly. Jaime’s lot was to be glory and power, while mine was birth and moonblood.”

“But you were queen of all the Seven Kingdoms,” Sansa said.

“When it comes to swords, a queen is only a woman after all.”

In many ways, Sansa’s arc in A Clash of Kings is centered around this idea; the violence of femininity in Westeros. Being a child isn’t enough to spare Sansa the horrors. The whole reason she’s trapped in King’s Landing to begin with is because of her body; the Lannisters want to use her like property – a broodmare to sire them sons to inherit Winterfell.

It’s no surprise the climax of Sansa’s chapters in A Clash of Kings pushes this concept to its furthest bounds . . .

Ser Dontos and The Hound

Throughout Sansa’s chapters in King’s Landing, GRRM is deconstructing the trope of the Princess in the Tower. Sansa more than any other character is aware that her life takes place within a story, and she prays to the gods to send her a hero to save from the Red Keep. GRRM had already subverted the idea of a charming Prince with Joffrey in the first book, so A Clash of Kings subverts the trope of a knight coming to save her. That’s why her two protectors in King’s Landing are Dontos and Sandor Clegane – two men who aren’t quite knights.

For most of the book, the narrative treats Dontos and Sandor as foils. The story of why either one is not a knight puts them on two opposite ends of a spectrum. Dontos has his knighthood taken away from him because he’s too soft. He would rather drink and let people laugh at him than fight with a sword, which is why Joffrey makes him a fool. On the other hand, the Hound likes killing too much to be a knight:

“Let them have their lands and their gods and their gold. Let them have their sers.” Sandor Clegane spat at her feet to show what he thought of that. “So long as I have this,” he said, lifting the sword from her throat, “there’s no man on earth I need fear.”

This dichotomy between them is made clearer in the way Sansa has to escape their advances. Around Dontos, she’s dodging kisses:

"Give your Florian a little kiss now. A kiss for luck." He swayed toward her.

Sansa dodged the wet groping lips, kissed him lightly on an unshaven cheek, and bid him good night. It took all her strength not to weep.

But it’s a steel kiss she has to dodge from the Hound:

He laid the edge of his longsword against her neck, just under her ear. Sansa could feel the sharpness of the steel.

The idea of Dontos and Sandor as opposites is driven home further by their different approaches to Sansa’s love of stories; Dontos uses it to win Sansa’s trust:

“I think I may find it in me to be a knight again, sweet lady. And all because of you . . . your grace, your courage. You saved me, not only from Joffrey, but from myself." His voice dropped. "The singers say there was another fool once who was the greatest knight of all . . ."

"Florian," Sansa whispered. A shiver went through her.

"Sweet lady, I would be your Florian," Dontos said humbly, falling to his knees before her.

The Hound uses it to berate and belittle her:

“There are no true knights, no more than there are gods. If you can’t protect yourself, die and get out of the way of those who can. Sharp steel and strong arms rule this world, don’t ever believe any different.”

Sansa backed away from him. “You’re awful.”

“I’m honest. It’s the world that’s awful. Now fly away, little bird, I’m sick of you peeping at me.”

But underneath the superficial differences, Dontos and the Hound have the exact same relationship to Sansa. When Joffrey is having her beat after Robb’s victory at Oxcross, both make efforts to help her – Dontos volunteering to hit her with a melon instead of a sword, and the Hound telling Joffrey “enough” – but stop short of doing anything that would put themselves in danger. They both make advances on Sansa against her will – Dontos with kisses and the Hound with knives, but the overt sexual nature of both cannot be denied. They both position themselves to Sansa as a sort of mentor figure, telling her how to act and what to believe, with the implicit (and often explicit) message that she’s not smart enough to think for herself and it would really be in her best interest if she just trusted them instead. Both men position themselves as Sansa’s “protector”, but they never protect her from much of anything; in the few moments they’re actually given the opportunity, like during the Battle of the Blackwater, they both panic and leave her to fend for herself.

What really connects the two men is how they use Sansa. To them, she’s the paragon of youth and innocence; the way she believes in the stories reminds them both of what they used to be like before the world beat them down. Sandor was a boy who played with toy knights before Gregor burned his face, and Dontos was saved as a child by the knight of knights Barristan Selmy. While they’ve both grown jaded, Sansa brings out the parts of them that still believe in the stories. That’s clear from the way Dontos reacts to the Lannisters winning the Battle of the Blackwater:

“Oh! the banners, darling Sansa! Oh! to be a knight!”

And even though the Hound claims to hate the stories, it’s a song he wants from Sansa:

“Go on. Sing to me. Some song about knights and fair maids.”

Sansa as the princess in a tower appeals to the fantasy of both men to be her hero.

But this is a subversion of that trope, not a straight retelling. Particularly in regards to Sandor, GRRM really deconstructs the destructive nature of this male fantasy. Before Sandor asks Sansa to sing him a song, he comments on her body:

“You look almost a woman . . . face, teats, and you’re taller too, almost . . .”

Sandor wanting to play the knight with Sansa is always tied to his sexual attraction to her; in every single instance, GRRM always ties them together. There is never one without the other. It should go without saying that this is not good; Sansa is barely twelve, and hasn’t even had her first period when Sandor’s sexual advances start. She is a child. In Maegar’s Holdfast, she’s shocked that men would view her sexually:

“Enough drink will make blind washerwomen and reeking pig girls seem as comely as you, sweetling.”

“Me?”

“Try not to sound so like a mouse, Sansa. You’re a woman now, remember?”

This passage also very clearly draws the connection between Sandor’s relationship to Sansa and violence. Cersei explains to Sansa the way battle makes men into monsters around women, and then the next chapter Sandor appears in Sansa’s bedroom with a knife. This is not meant to be a romantic scene, or else GRRM would not have framed it with threats of rape and violence.

This is further re-enforced by the song Sansa sings to Sandor. When he holds the knife to her neck, he demands she sing the song of Florian and Jonquil:

He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed. “I’ll have that song, Florian and Jonquil, you said.” His dagger was poised at her throat. “Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life.”

But Sansa can’t remember the words, and instead sings the Mother’s Mercy hymn:

Gentle Mother, font of mercy, save our sons from war, we pray, stay the swords and stay the arrows, let them know a better day.

Gentle Mother, strength of women, help our daughters through this fray, sooth the wrath and tame the fury, teach us all a kinder way.

It is incredibly symbolic that the Hound demands Sansa sing him a song of romance, but she physically can’t; the only song she can remember the words to is one of forgiveness.

So much of Sansa’s narrative in A Clash of Kings is people demanding things that she can’t give them. Joffrey wants her loyalty, Cersei wants her words, Tyrion wants her trust, and Dontos and Sandor want her love. Everyone is pulling her in different directions, and her entire personality starts to crumble under the pressure; there’s no way she can give all of these people everything they want. Something has to give.

And when Sansa can no longer play her role, when the fear of dying is too visceral for her to wear her courtesy like an armor, the one thing Sansa can still give Sandor is her mercy. . .

Radical Empathy

The running thread that connects all of the themes in Sansa’s chapters is her being trapped. Physically through Joffrey’s abuse, emotionally through Joffrey, Cersei, Dontos, and Sandor, and even by herself mentally as she begins to internalize the abuse. Everything about the Red Keep is meant to turn Sansa cruel and self-interested, just like everybody else; even if they aren’t intentionally cruel like Joffrey, they’re okay with Sansa being hurt because that’s just how life is, like Cersei. Or Dontos and the Hound, who don’t intend to hurt Sansa but do because they’re too caught up in their own narrative to acknowledge her humanity. Even Arys Oakheart, who really doesn’t want to hurt her, but is too afraid to say no and defy the class structure of Westeros.

That makes Sansa’s defiance through empathy stand out in such radical contrast. The kindness Sansa shows everyone, even those who hurt her, is how GRRM brings the songs to life. Sansa doesn’t love those stories because she’s silly and naïve; she loves them because they justify her belief in the inherent goodness of being kind.

Empathy and kindness are Sansa’s defining character traits, and that’s why her arc in A Clash of Kings opens with her saving Dontos’ life:

Sansa heard herself gasp. “No, you can’t.”

Joffrey turned his head. “What did you say?”

Sansa could not believe she had spoken. Was she mad? To tell him no in front of half the court? She hadn’t meant to say anything, only . . . Ser Dontos was drunk and silly and useless, but he meant no harm.

Even though just moments earlier she had noted Joffrey’s mood was turning dark:

The way Sansa stands up for Dontos is particularly notable because he had the chance to do the same for her in A Game of Thrones, but chose not to:

Sickly Lord Gyles covered his face at her approach and feigned a fit of coughing, and when funny drunken Ser Dontos started to hail her, Ser Balon Swann whispered in his ear and he turned away.

- Sansa V

Dontos wouldn’t even risk treating Sansa with basic courtesy, yet she risked her live to save his.

And that’s not the only time Sansa stands up to Joffrey to save someone:

Halfway along the route, a wailing woman forced her way between two watchmen and ran out into the street in front of the king and his companions, holding the corpse of her dead baby above her head. It was blue and swollen, grotesque, but the real horror was the mother's eyes. Joffrey looked for a moment as if he meant to ride her down, but Sansa Stark leaned over and said something to him. The king fumbled in his purse, and flung the woman a silver stag.

- Tyrion IX

The only other character we ever see move to actually stand up to Joffrey is Tyrion, who is also the only person in court who doesn’t have to be afraid of Joffrey’s retaliation. Everyone else sits by day after day and watches as Joffrey abuses Sansa and says nothing; or worse, they actively participate. But whenever Sansa sees Joffrey hurting someone, she risks herself to make him stop.

Sansa also uses her kindness to give herself courage:

Sansa found herself possessed of a queer giddy courage. “You should go with her,” she told the king. “Your brother might be hurt.”

Joffrey shrugged. “What if he is?”

“You should help him up and tell him how well he rode.” Sansa could not seem to stop herself.

She’s too afraid to speak back at Joffrey when he’s abusing her, but as soon as she sees him mistreat Tommen, she finds the courage to stand up for others.

Kindness is almost an involuntary reflex for Sansa:

Lancel was one of them, yet somehow she still could not bring herself to wish him dead. I am soft and weak and stupid, just as Joffrey says. I should be killing him, not helping him.

Lancel Lannister, who stood by and egged the crowd on as Sansa was stripped and beaten after the Battle at Oxcross. She has every reason not to help him; she knows if she stays in that room, with the battle all but lost, Ser Ilyn is going to kill her solely because of the Lannisters’ spite. She has no reason to stay and help Lancel. But she can’t stop herself.

The moment where Sansa’s kindness stands out the most, though, is when the Hound comes to her room during Blackwater:

Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his cheek with her fingers. The room was too dark for her to see him, but she could feel the stickiness of the blood, and a wetness that was not blood. “Little bird,” he said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone. Then he rose from the bed. Sansa heard cloth ripping, followed by the softer sound of retreating footsteps.

I think reading this passage out of context is what allows certain fans to paint this scene in a romantic light. The softness of Sansa reaching out to touch Sandor is an indelible moment. But it does the moment a disservice to read it that way. This scene is so well written because of what comes before it:

“I could keep you safe,” he rasped. “They’re all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I’d kill them.” He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. He was too strong to fight. She closed her eyes, wanting it to be over, but nothing happened. “Still can’t bear to look, can you?” he heard him say. He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed. “I’ll have that song, Florian and Jonquil, you said.” His dagger was poised at her throat. “Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life.”

Afraid for her life, Sansa closes her eyes. But Sandor is too bitter, jaded, and wrapped up in his own self to realize that’s why she closes her eyes; he thinks it’s because she still can’t look at the burned ruin of his face. He came to her room with kindness the furthest thing from his mind; the flames dancing on the Blackwater Rush made him scared like a wild animal, and he’s come here to get something from Sansa – whether she wants to give it or no.

(And while certain people are interested in carrying a lot of water to redeem this character, GRRM has really left no ambiguity in Sandor’s intentions. The passage He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed, taken in tandem with his confession to Arya, I took the bloody song, she never gave it. I meant to take her too. I should have. I should have fucked her bloody and ripped her heart out before leaving her for that dwarf, make it very clear that Sandor intended to rape Sansa. That is not up for debate.)

Sansa singing the Mother’s Mercy hymn is the last thing Sandor expected. The idea that in this moment, as Sandor becomes all of the worst things he’s ever believed about himself, about to do one of the most monstrous acts a person can do – that in that moment, Sansa could still show him mercy, is enough to stop him. He can no longer pretend that all the songs are lies and that everyone is only pretending to be good, because in this moment Sansa is still somehow capable of showing him kindness.

Sansa’s ability to have empathy for seemingly irredeemable characters is not limited to Sandor (though certain shippers would like to pretend that’s some unique characteristic of their relationship, it most certainly is not). The dynamic between Sansa and Cersei is so rich because of Sansa’s inability to hate her, even though Cersei is responsible for pretty much every bad thing in Sansa’s life.

The Sansa and Cersei dynamic is one of the narrative’s most dynamic and complex, as Cersei represents a dark mirror of Sansa. Both were in love with the idea of becoming Queen as children, but arrived in King’s Landing to find their Prince is not who they thought he would be – Cersei both literally and figuratively, as she realizes she’s not to marry Rhaegar Targaryen but instead Robert Baratheon. They’re both subjected to emotional and physical abuse by the King for things that aren’t their fault – Robert hates Cersei because she isn’t Lyanna, and Joffrey hates Sansa because of his fight with Arya on the Trident.

But Cersei’s Lannister upbringing and life have made her cruel in all the ways Sansa is kind. She can see the parallels between herself and Sansa, but instead of reacting with empathy, she uses it to justify her cruelty:

“You’re stronger than you seem, though. I expect you’ll survive a bit of humiliation. I did.”

Being afraid of the men in her life has taught Cersei that’s the correct way to wield power:

“Another lesson you should learn, if you hope to sit beside my son. Be gentle on a night like this and you’ll have treasons popping up all about you like mushrooms after a hard rain. The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy.”

But Sansa reacts the opposite way:

“I will remember, Your Grace,” said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people’s loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I’ll make them love me.

This line has become the definitive statement of Sansa’s character because it so wholly embodies her ethos. Cruelty is not in her nature, and her instinct is always to show kindness. It also ties a direct connection to her own personal experiences shaping how she wants to be as Queen:

“Fear is better than love, Mother says.” Joffrey pointed at Sansa. “She fears me.”

Sansa knows what it feels like to be afraid, and she never wants anyone else to ever feel like that. Where the cruelty Cersei suffered taught her it was normal and good to rule that way, Sansa learns what it feels like to be at someone else’s mercy. If she ever has control over someone, which she will in books to come, she’s learned to always be kind because she knows what it feels like when someone isn’t.

All of her chapters in A Clash of Kings are full of moments that show how much Sansa values kindness. While I’ve already highlighted the life or death examples, she also shines in the small moments, like when she encourages Tommen before he faces the quintain at Joffrey’s name day tourney. And she comforts him when Myrcella leaves for Dorne:

Prince Tommen sobbed. "You mew like a suckling babe," his brother hissed at him. "Princes aren't supposed to cry."

"Prince Aemon the Dragonknight cried the day Princess Naerys wed his brother Aegon," Sansa Stark said, "and the twins Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk died with tears on their cheeks after each had given the other a mortal wound."

- Tyrion IX

She tries to comfort Lollys Stokeworth across the bridge to Maegar’s Holdfast:

She greeted them courteously. “May I be of help?”

Lady Tanda flushed with shame. “No, my lady, but we thank you kindly. You must forgive my daughter, she has not been well.”

“I don’t want to.” Lollys clutched at her maid, a slender, pretty girl with short dark hair who looked as though she wanted nothing so much as to shove her mistress into the dry moat, onto those iron spikes. “Please, please, I don’t want to.”

Sansa spoke to her gently. “We’ll all be thrice protected inside, and there’s to be food and drink and song as well.”

Her prayer in the Sept before the battle starts shows just how much she cares for everyone:

She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike, for Bran and Rickon and Robb, for her sister Arya and her bastard brother Jon Snow, away off on the Wall. She sang for her mother and her father, for her grandfather Lord Hoster and her uncle Edmure Tully, for her friend Jeyne Poole, for old drunken King Robert, for Septa Mordane and Ser Dontos and Jory Cassel and Maester Luwin, for all the brave knights and soldiers who would die today, and for the children and the wives who would mourn them, and finally, toward the end, she even sang for Tyrion the Imp and for the Hound. He is no true knight but he saved me all the same, she told the Mother. Save him if you can, and gentle the rage inside him.

There’s only one person in the whole of Westeros Sansa won’t extend her empathy to:

But when the septon climbed on high and called upon the gods to protect and defend their true and noble king, Sansa got to her feet. The aisles were jammed with people. She had to shoulder through while the septon called upon the Smith to lend strength to Joffrey’s sword and shield, the Warrior to give him courage, the Father to defend him in his need. Let his sword break and his shield shatter, Sansa thought coldly as she shoved out through the doors, let his courage fail him and every man desert him.

This line feels especially important. A lesson that’s drilled into Sansa time and time again by Cersei and Sandor is that her kindness makes her weak. It was used against her in A Game of Thrones, where her trust in Cersei and Joffrey left her completely vulnerable to Ned’s death. But this passage shows that it is not weakness that makes Sansa kind - it’s strength. For a character as kind as she is, and subjected to so much abuse, it would be easy to see her narrative as someone repeatedly letting herself be run over. By including this line, showing that Sansa’s empathy is a choice she makes – and making it clear that she chooses not to have it for Joffrey – it shows that Sansa still has control over herself, and will set boundaries.

Instead of using her experiences in a negative way like Cersei, Sansa learns to carefully apply the lessons of her life; she won’t let abuse stop her from being kind, but she knows when to stop herself from trusting someone again.

Because Sansa’s kindness and optimism are the most important aspects of her character, her arc in A Clash of Kings ends there. Joffrey setting her aside in favor of Margaery is an emotional rollercoaster for Sansa:

Dontos waited in the leafy moonlight. “Why so sadface?” Sansa asked him gaily. “You were there, you heard. Joff put me aside, he’s done with me, he’s . . .”

He took her hand. “Oh, Jonquil, my poor Jonquil, you do not understand. Done with you? They’ve scarcely begun.”

Her heart sank. “What do you mean?”

“The queen will never let you go, never. You are too valuable a hostage. And Joffrey . . . sweetling, he is still king. If he wants you in his bed, he will have you, only now it will be bastards he plants in your womb instead of trueborn sons.”

Throughout A Song of Ice and Fire, the narrative is constantly testing Sansa’s commitment to her ideals. Everything she knows is constantly turned on its head, going from a dream to a nightmare. The momentary joy she feels knowing she doesn’t have to marry Joffrey is only allowed for a second, until it collides with Dontos’ harsh reality.

But instead of ending there, the narrative takes a page out of Sansa’s book and leaves on a vision of hope for the future:

It was a hair net of fine spun silver, the strands so thin and delicate the net seemed to weigh no more than a breath of air when Sansa took it in her fingers. Small gems were set wherever two strands crossed, so dark they drank the moonlight. “What stones are these?”

“Black amethysts from Asshai. The rarest kind, a deep true purple by daylight.”

“It’s very lovely,” Sansa said, thinking, It is a ship I need, not a net for my hair.

“Lovelier than you know, sweet child. It’s magic, you see. It’s justice you hold. It’s vengeance for your father.” Dontos leaned close and kissed her again. “It’s home.”

#Sansa Stark #game of thrones #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #just over 15000 words #which is a new personal record #sansa meta

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musicallisto · 4 years

Text

⚔ — 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥; (tyrion lannister x f!reader)

@multifandomfix requested: Hey, for your start of the year event, could I get #44 with Tyrion Lannister, please? Thanks in advance if you end up choosing it. I hope 2021 will be a great year for you. 😊

song: bazzi - beautiful | 𝄞

summary: How could he tell you it was all his fault - that he had loved you to pieces since the stars had taken their first breath, and that Tywin’s revenge on him was to make you suffer while he was powerless?

author notes: I ain’t never seen a fluffy one-shot written by me, always half of it gotta be depressing

word count: 2.7k (what the HELL)

warnings: language + the typical stuff that’s commonplace in GoT

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 younger, young enough to hear her speak freely around you, you’d often heard the illustrious Cersei Lannister, blessed may her reign be, mutter her implacable adage through slit eyes and arrogant teeth; in Westeros, when one played the game of thrones, they were either crowned or buried. Some win and some die, she’d state with a smug grin, ignoring Jaime rolling his eyes right by her. You would always nod in silence; partly because you, lesser Lady of King’s Landing, certainly did not dare to contradict your most redoubtable playmate; but also because, deep down, you believed in her truths. You’d seen it when your father came back from his battles, commanding the Crown’s armies across the Southern seas, or when you heard the whispers at Court of yet another fallen Lord who believed he could play with fire like the Targaryens; there was little more than victors and vanquished, and you, as a lady-in-waiting to the future Queen, could sleep easy at night knowing you were on the right side of the world.

Yet when the rebellion led by your father’s army of mutineers was crushed by the King’s forces, when your brothers all fled into exile across the continent; when your title, name, and lands became those of a traitor to the Crown; you understood that in the game of thrones, death was the only blessing the powerful bestowed when they were clement; for there was far crueler and harrowing a punishment than torture: humiliation and servitude.

King Robert Baratheon, his mercy guided by Tywin Lannister’s murmurs, decided against sending you to death as he would have any of your brothers, despite the abject crimes your name now carried. In all his bonhomie, he had made you a servant of his wife instead, perpetually condemned to following the Lannisters around and never quite catching up to them.

“Why did the King spare my life?” you had asked Jaime one time, in hushed tones, aware that a servant caught talking to the Kingslayer with such familiarity would cause quite the scandal.

“Probably because he knows you were always a dear friend to Cersei and me.”

That was Jaime, as always; believing what he wanted to believe, and damned would be the one who’d change his mind. And to think he still thought, with a disconcerting assurance, that Cersei and you were still dear friends...

You hadn’t asked her why you were still alive. You knew she’d eye you for a moment, then order you to fetch her some water. She savored the sight of you in rugged clothes and immensely exhausted.

The only one who knew was Tyrion.

He always knew everything.

Even more so when it was about you.

“Why did the King spare my life?” you had asked him one evening, in the quiet banquet hall, only illuminated by flickering candles. He had looked up from his chalice of wine and at you, clearing the last dishes from the grand supper, and he swore his heart ruptured. He loved nothing more than staying absurdly late after dinner so he could catch you alone, but when your misty eyes, still too pure and bright for a world so cold, asked such unfathomable questions...

“I don’t know,” he had muttered casually.

Neither of you believed it. There was nothing Tyrion didn’t know.

But how could he tell you it was Tywin’s sick little pleasure, to keep you in chains at an arm’s length from him, from his embarrassment of a son? How could he tell you it was all his fault - that he had loved you to pieces since the stars had taken their first breath, and that Tywin’s revenge on him was to make you suffer while he was powerless?

“Sometimes I wish he had not,” you had confessed with this outrageous beauty of yours, chin up and prosody of a dame despite the greasy plates in your elegant hands.

Tyrion had bitten his tongue hard enough to draw blood. You were not the King’s prisoner, nor the castle’s, nor your family name’s; you were his, and he loved you so ardently, beyond all the words he knew, that he was utterly paralyzed.

The wine and hall were long cold by the time he went to sleep that night.

The following days, inexplicably, Tyrion was the first of the family to retire to his quarters after dinner. A pang of sullenness stung your throat when you brought the usual wine cup to an empty chair. Never before had he gone to bed without wishing you goodnight. Not since the night, so many years before, when you had run out on Cersei and Jaime to stay with their boring and lame little brother and talk the night away with his electric soul...

“Why didn’t Tyrion wait for you?” Jaime had whispered into your ear as you leaned over to pour him more wine.

You froze, almost long enough for Cersei to flair your discomfort. That was Jaime, as always; surprisingly perceptive when he allowed himself to be...

“I don’t know.”

You and Tyrion were so alike. You had the same inflection in the voice when you admitted to not knowing something... frustration and defeat.

“Maybe he’s not feeling well. You should check on him.”

“I’m certain he is f—”

“Y/N, go tend to my brother, please,” he cut, his voice a little louder.

You stopped, looking at Jaime, strong and tall and almost imperturbable. You were a servant of the Lannisters, but Jaime rarely bossed you around. You looked deep into his eyes, looking for a hint, a glimpse... and found it; a remnant of the boy you once knew, the childhood friend you sparred with wooden swords with. The boy with mischief and connivance.

“Yes, of course, my Lord.”

Your footsteps already echoed in the somber halls when you remembered you hadn’t even brought the wine pitcher back to the kitchens.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of Tyrion’s closed door. Years before, you had run up and down all the castle halls in search of passageways and hiding spots with a giggling Cersei on tow; yet you had never felt as lost and out of place as you did then, knuckles hovering over the wooden panel.

“Lord Tyrion, your brother asks to see you,” you called in one breath after knocking sharply. Calling the twins by their titles was disturbing enough to you; but Tyrion, brilliant and dedicated Tyrion, Tyrion you'd find reading hidden in the library and who'd blush when you asked him what his book was about—Tyrion, a Lord of Casterly Rock?

“No, he does not.”

There was nothing he didn't know. Especially when it came to his brother... and you.

“I...,” you sighed, at a loss for words. So many untold truths jostled in your throat, none eloquent enough for his bright soul. “He insisted I check up on you, sir.”

“Well I'm fine, am I not? You can go now.”

His words echoed in your skull with the strength of a thousand storms. Taking a shaky breath, you prepared to turn around and leave him... but a sudden force rumbled deep in you like a menacing earthquake. You might have been stripped of your lands and rights, you might bear the name of a traitor and a criminal, but he had been a general before he was a corpse and you had been an eldest daughter before you were a plaything. Your foot grazed the door, almost with too much violence, when you turned to face it.

“Truth be told, I wanted to check up on you as well, and to tell you that I’m bewildered at your recent behavior towards me, and that I don’t think I have done anything to deserve this shift in your attitude, and that I esteem you dearly and dared to hope that it was the same for you, and that I am frankly hurt by your sudden coldness, and that if you will not deign to tell me whatever is happening, then I will merely wish you a pleasant night and disturb you no further. Sir.”

Catching your breath, you turned on your heels before you could regret any of the words you’d just said. It would be a miracle if Tyrion managed to catch any of them clearly with how fast you had hammered them; let alone answer to them... yet as you were about to leave, the door was unbolted, and there stood a seemingly somber and preoccupied Tyrion.

“Come on in. And please, we’re alone. Don’t give me any of that “sir” crap, I know you hate it.”

And like so many times, so many years before, you stepped into Tyrion’s quarters like inside a forbidden dungeon, but it all seemed twice as small and dark as it did when you were reckless children.

The both of you remained silent for long moments, even after he had motioned for you to take a seat on the ottoman at the foot of his bed; the shadows from the fireplace projected onto his face made Tyrion’s unmoving silhouette all the more unreadable.

“Is it something I’ve done?”

“Do you wish to know why the King didn’t have your head when your father rebelled? Well — why my father didn’t?”

Your eyes widened for a split second, but your irritation barely subsided. For some reason, despite your never-ending quest for answers, the subject of your family’s treason and fate always prompted you to defensiveness when it was mentioned by others... especially by your best friend. The one who knew too much.

“What does this have to do with anything, Tyrion?”

“Everything, Y/N. It has to do with everything.”

“Enlighten me, then. You always know better than everyone else.”

Tyrion took a deep, interminable breath before continuing. It was only then that you noticed how shaky his hands were; for the first time, you read a disconcerting uncertainty on his face.

“My father knows humiliation is far worse than death, especially among Lords... and he knows how to take the most pleasant acts of revenge on his enemies. Your last name... and myself.”

You kept quiet. The puzzle was starting to piece itself together, spurred by Tyrion’s voice, low and even, albeit a little unsteady — as though the charred logs and crackling fire were confiding in you themselves...

“He’s known you since you were an infant. You were always proud and righteous, a proper Lady and a treasure to your name, but still pure and kind... all the traits I adored in you when I first met you. He knew nothing would hurt you more than stripping you of everything you had - status, respect, poise, and dignity... and your friends. He’s burying your family’s legacy under grime and filth and savoring every second of it...”

His words became progressively spaced, as though he was choosing them carefully. You hadn’t yet noticed your own hands were shaking now, too.

“And he can screw me over as well. Any chance he gets, he takes.”

His shoulders were solid and unmoving, but his words came in ragged breaths and laborious swallowing. He took a step forward, finally breaking free from the backlighting of the fireplace; his eyes were fixated on you, resolute and, despite the nervousness, more tender than ever. You remembered the expression all too well; it was the one he had worn all through the night you had talked until daylight about anything and everything... and seeing the enamored child in the man before you, you started to understand it all.

“He’s always known how much I care about you. How your presence never fails to lighten my mood and ease my worries, or how I’ve always looked for excuses to talk to you alone and catch your eye at supper. Most of all, how you’ve always given me exactly what I wanted... a chance. And he always thought it was the ultimate example of my weakness. To kick you around like an animal when I can’t do anything about it and know it’s all partly because of me is his favorite game...”

You clasped your hands together on your lap to curb your agitation. He had taken another step towards you, and you couldn’t break away from his gaze. Each of his features held more love than you’d ever known; more than when your father would ruffle your hair, or when you’d share your family tart with your brothers and smeared all the jam on their cheeks; and you couldn’t fathom how long it had taken you to discover this warm and fuzzy feeling you got whenever Tyrion was around had a simple name: home.

“Tyrion,” you spoke before the tears invaded your eyes. “Are you saying you fancy me?”

“Ah, to hell with it.”

Eyes entirely bathed in light now, he responded almost immediately and clearer than before.

“I’m saying I love you, Y/N, and that I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I first thought that I only liked your company, and admired your grace — that you were just the sister I wish I’d had, but I’ve had to face the fact that your face and voice set me afire in a way that nothing else can. I’m light and naive when you’re around... and you make me believe I have the strength they all won’t stop blabbering about. But I thought that if I could convince my father I saw nothing more in you than a whore like all the others, he would maybe let you go... maybe set you free.”

And the last confession seemed to hurt him more than everything else he had admitted that night, because it cut him right in his pride.

“I was wrong.”

An impossible soreness had taken over your throat during Tyrion's tirade, leaving you struck and mute. For a few seconds, all you could hear was the gentle hooting of the wind outside and the rapid and disjointed thumping of your heart... when you spoke eventually, it was but a hoarse whisper.

“All these years...”

“Yes.”

“And all those girls I had to see you with...”

“None of them mattered. None of them were you.”

“Why didn't you tell me, Tyrion?”

“Why would I?” he puffed with an acerbic laugh, gesturing at his frame, his scars, his cynicism and selfishness, and his wit and brilliant mind and feverish eloquence and golden eyes...

And suddenly your father's voice echoed in your head, unmistakable yet so distant, as he had spoken to you one day when you were little; he had said that angels existed in this world, closer than one might expect, and more often than not they took on unexpected forms, but once could always recognize them as they were the shiniest forces in the world around when everything was grim and black.

Maybe it was the dim lighting of the fire and moonlight that cast abstract shadows on the walls, or maybe your eyes and heart playing tricks on you, but you swore Tyrion was veiled by a pulsating halo, gold and black, that got even more radiant as he half-smiled.

When you leaned over and kissed him, you did not doubt that he truly was the angel your family tales had told you about, and maybe the only remaining angel in Westeros — because kissing him was like every star in the sky falling into place and forming new constellations, and when he grabbed your face to deepen the kiss, you were certain you felt his wings rustle.

“You have the most beautiful soul in this damn city, Tyrion,” you breathed when you finally pulled back.

Had he always looked at you with this unshakeable air of triumph and delight, or was it another trick of the light?

“If you knew how long I've waited to tell you how beautiful you are...”

“Tell me. Over and over.”

There was a smile on his face, the first genuine and devilishly charming one you'd seen in weeks when he stepped back and closed the velvet curtains.

He told you all night.

tagging; @fives-cup-of-coffee @softeninglooks (all my writing)

#writing in formal english is so hard? when it's not your first language? you're just like 'does this mean something or am i making this up'#mywriting #game of thrones #got #tyrion lannister #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones one-shot #got imagine #got fanfic #got one-shot #tyrion lannister imagine #tyrion lannister fanfic #tyrion lannister one-shot #tyrion lannister x reader #will spellcheck this tomorrow morning so for now have this #multifandomfix

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fandom-puff · 4 years

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An Unmarried Lady

Pairing: sandor clegane x Lannister! reader

Requested by: anon

Prompts: //

Summary: A Lannister woman with no husband was odd... Cersei and Tywin are determined to marry you off...

AN: ah! I haven’t written for Sandor clegane I’m so long!! This is my first like,,, imagine with him so I hope you enjoy it 💕 also, the reader is younger than Tyrion here ( I know he’s the youngest in the books and TV series but... just go with it okay :p)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, Joffrey Baratheon

Wine flowed freely when your nephew was in a good mood. A rebellion in the city had been quashed and Joffrey was adamant that a party be thrown to honour his victory. You rolled your eyes. Stupid boy. Still, it gave you an excuse to drink and dance without worrying so much about your reputation as the King’s Aunt. You might even be able to sneak away with Sandor...

Unfirtunately, your father and sister spent a lot of their time during these events conspiring about which knight or noble to shove in your direction. You sighed, taking a deep drink from your wine as Tywin walked over to you, a tall, dark haired man in his wake. Your eyes flickered briefly to Sandor before you plastered a sweet smile on your face as your father presented you to one another. “My youngest daughter, YN Lannister,” he said, eyes flicking between you both. You arched your eyebrows at your father as the man grasped your hand and pressed a wet kiss to your knuckles. You were clearly unimpressed.

“Are you not going to introduce yourself, Ser?” You smirked, knowing full well he was a Lord, not a Ser.

“I’m not a Ser!” He said, just as you predicted. Tywin sighed. “I’m Lord-”

“A lord?” You said in a mock-surprise tone. “You certainly don’t act like one, slobbering over my wrist. I’ve had better trained dogs,” you said slyly.

Tywin looked up to the ceiling, composing himself. “Lord Pyne. Go,” he said sharply as you turned to him, your hands on your hips.

“Your standards are slipping, father,” you said coldly, making to walk away but he grabbed your arm.

“It’s very hard to uphold such high standards when you refuse every suitor within two minutes of meeting him,” he said, glaring down at you. You stared back, challenging him. His eyes softened slightly- the perks of being the baby sister in the family.

“When you can find me a good, honest man who isn’t an arrogant bastard, father, then I’ll consider letting him court me,” you said, eyes not leaving his.

He sighed, exhasperated. As far as he knew, you had been single for far too long. “YN. You must understand, an unmarried Lannister woman... you haven’t been courted since your first bleeding,” you flushed slightly. “People talk, YN,”

“People talk about Cersei and Jaime fucking, father,” you hissed, tugging your arm out of his grasp. “People talk about Tyrion frequenting whore houses and burning his way through the people’s taxes in fortified wine. I am the only child of yours who hasn’t got a poor reputation for incest and whoring. Your grandson is King of the seven kingdoms, each of your sons hold a position on the small council. Your oldest daughter was married off for the family’s gain. There are no more positions, no more seats for me to take. Focus on controlling that tyrant up there,” you nodded to the throne, “before you even THINK about marrying me off to some dimwitted lord who can’t tell his arse from his elbow,” you turned on your heel and stormed away from your father. He shook his head and receded back to Cersei as you went to find your favourite brother.

You breezed past Sandor, brushing against him, even though you didn’t really need to. You could just imagine his slight smirk as your skirts fluttered about his ankles and your hair flowed behind you.

Finding Tyrion, you huffed and sat next to him, stealing his goblet and taking a sip.

“Hey now, dear sister, get your own,” he said teasingly, though he grabbed another goblet from a serving girl. “Who has Father tried to pawn you off to now?” He smirked, knowing that was the only thing that could get you so riled up.

“Lord Pyne,” you said, rolling your eyes. Tyrion roared with laughter.

“Him? Ha! I bet he still has his mother’s milk in his belly!” He grinned, causing you to crack a small smile. “Ahhh, there she is, that beautiful smile. You break hearts, you know, YN, keeping that smile to yourself,”

You shook your head slightly. “I want to marry someone I love, Tyrion,” you sighed. “I don’t see the point in marrying me off to some Lord,”

Tyrion smirked. “Do you not want a lord, YN?” He nudged you. “Would you rather we get you a prince? A warlord? A great Dothraki warlord to carry you off on his horse and fuck you amongst the heathens?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t you dare suggest that to father,”

“Suggest what to father?” You turned to see your sister standing over you.

“Tyrion’s had the bright idea to whore me out to the Dothraki, seeing as you and father cannot find a suitor who doesn’t wear his arse as a cap,” you said, smirking. Cersei scrunched her nose up.

“He isn’t that desperate,” she said, sitting down with you, fussing over your gown.

“I beg to differ,” you said, batting her hands away. “Honestly, Cersei, I’ve just turned twenty two. Must you fuss over my dress like that?”

“Yes! We must be presentable. And you really ought to start wearing your hair up like mine,”

You snorted. “Cers, I have much better things to do than preening myself for hours on end,” you tucked your hair behind your ear. You did not favour the high hairstyles that your sister so often sported. You preferred to wear it down with simple plaits and discrete jewels for decoration.

“You need a husband, YN. You ought to have been wedded and bedded as soon as you bled,”

“I bled when I was twelve, Cersei,” you growled, sitting a little straighter, eyebrows knitted together in a deep frown.

“Our little sister wants to marry for love, Cersei,” Tyrion said quickly diffusing the situation, draining his cup. Cersei was about to argue when Joffrey spoke up.

“Aunt YN. Come,” you sighed, glaring at Cersei before pushing through the crowd to your nephew. You sunk into a slight curtsey, never going as low as you should.

“Your highness?” You said, looking him in the eye. He may be your king, but you were still his aunt.

“I’m bored. My dog here says he has never danced. I want to see him dance,” you flushed as the room went silent. Sandor stood staring straight ahead, and you swallowed.

“My lord?” You said, standing tall and staring him down.

“No man would allow his wife to dance with such a creature. But you have no man, do you, Aunt YN?” His lips curled into a sadistic smirk as you gritted your teeth.

“No, your highness,” you said stiffly.

“Hound. Dance with my Aunt YN. Perhaps you will scare here into wedding and bedding a lord,”

The room was silent. You flashed your eyes to your father briefly, but he was glaring at the King. Cersei has her lips pursed and Tyrion looked thunderous.

“Yes, my Lord,” you said sweetly, nodding slightly at Sandor.

“Play something!” The king demanded, clapping his hands and lounging in his throne. Sandor took your hand and you guided him into the proper dancing position. “Closer, Hound!” Joffrey snapped. “Show my court what a good little wife she would make,”

“Your majesty,” Tyrion said lowly, warningly.

“Quiet, uncle! Play!”

You took a deep breath as the music started, dancing the steps perfectly, the way you had learned since you were a little girl, while Sandor just stepped along, holding you. If the entire court wasn’t watching and Joffrey wasn’t demanding a circus performance, it would have been quite nice. Sandor’s jaw was tight as you danced, and he squeezed your hand and hip.

Joffrey clapped, laughing at his clever little performance that he had coordinated. The court began to laugh along nervously, and you shut your eyes, looking at your feet, unable to show Sandor how humiliated you felt. “Tell my court, Hound! Tell my court how she feels! Would she make a good wife? A good slut for a lord?”

“Enough!” You suddenly snapped, tugging away from sandor’s strong grip. The room suddenly descended into silence again as you turned to the court. “The King is tired!” You announced. “Ser Trant, Ser Moore, escort the king to his quarters, and ensure he eats his supper,” the king spluttered as the two kingsguards looked frantically to Cersei and Tywin. They nodded, and soon the king was escorted to his room like a spoilt child. “Play on,” you said, clapping your hands and smiling sweetly, gesturing for people to commence dancing. Tywin offered his hand to a highborn lady and soon others followed his lead. You stared up at Sandor with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, but he simply grabbed your hand and took you away from the dancing, sitting with you in an alcove, away from prying eyes.

Well, most of them.

“Father,” Tyrion said, smirking at his father and sister. “The next suitor shouldn’t be a Lord, or even a Ser,” he said, nodding over to the alcove, where you pressed a chaste kiss to the scarred side of sandor’s face. “I think we’ve solved the mystery as to why sweet YN has been impossible to court,”

Tag list : @diksy1112 @zodiyack @soleil-dor

#sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane imagine #game of thrones #cersei #tyrion lannister #tywin lannister #sandor clegane #the hound #request

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redteabaron · 4 years

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2 He armed the mountain clans to punish Lysa. He used wildfire without hesitation against Stannis and loved it. He thinks of himself as a hero and blames the people of KL for not recognizing it. He married a child, whom he molested (maybe even more) and blamed her for not wanting him. He killed Shae and his father. He killed a singer. He used treachery in war trying to get Jamie back. He turned YG against Westeros to cause chaos.

Idk where the first part of your ask went, tumblr sent it into the ether.

I agree with everything you said anon.

Yeah I had issues with GOT but one of the biggest disappointments was honestly he way Tyrion was given this whitewashed character to make him the good guy in a hard place when in the books we’re meant to condemn these things. They completely changed him.

When ppl say "he was so kind to Sansa/the only one who showed her kindness", "He stopped Joffrey from having her beaten/humiliated."

Know what would've made him a better man? Not molesting and confirming he was prepared to rape a child (who he fully acknowledges is a child yet he wants her anyway), added on to that, while she is a POW afraid for her family. He could've helped her escape and that would've been heroic in the face of how much he feared his father. He could've said "no I'm not marrying her she's a kid." But he doesn't. He wants her. He wants Winterfell. “uwu but he doesn’t actually rape her -” No. He molests her. A child. A POW. And has his feelings hurt because she doesn’t want to. Woe is he.

Wrt to the wildfire, iirc he hated the small smallfolk for not loving him when in reality he'd forced them from their homes (I believe he actually has them burned down and never announces why). Not to mention that the mountain clansmen under him mistreat the smallfolk, and you know, the city is starving and they hate the ruling class anyway.

His use of wildfire is a flag for his endgame. Wildfire is a cruel way to die. Fire is a cruel way to die. The books don't show good, triumphant tidings for ppl who use fire to kill ppl.

YG will likely come across Arianne and they have the setup for a Martell reunion looking for vengeance on the Lannisters for Elia and Oberyn, but Aegon was already aiming to reclaim the IT before Tyrion entered the picture. But Tyrion was/is looking for someone he can use to ‘unleash’ on Cersei/KL. Tyrion more or less makes Aegon question whether or not all the plans laid by Jon C/his advisors will go off without a hitch, and imo that’ll be groundwork for him to listen to Arianne/work with her.

Tyrion tries to position himself in a more advantageous position and he will be pissed if he finds that Arianne - a woman and a Dornish woman at that - 'usurped' his position at Aegon's side. He tried to manipulate Aegon with the intent of furthering his own personal agenda and has failed because he’s lost his chance . He'll do the same with Dany but he'll overestimate his influence over her. His fascination with dragons is probably a foreshadowing that in dreaming of taming one (dany), trying to control one for his own gain, he will fail.

And preaching to the choir about Shae's murder. He has to face justice for a lot. Judgment. Everyone with too much fire in them seems destined for it in asoiaf.

#redt talk #redt answers #anti tyrion #anti tyrion lannister

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herelivesahobbit · 3 years

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The reason people call the Riverrun scene OOC aid because it is not in the books. It was made up by D&D, same as they made up whatever else. Cersei is not mentioned in Jaime’s Riverrun speech, and in fact when she’s next mentioned it’s when Jaime is ignoring her pleas for help and leaving her to the mercy of the faith. They are hugely different scenes in books vs show, but if you haven’t read ASOIAF feel free to admit it rather than berate people who have.

LOL. They are hugely different scenes in the show and the book. So? In any case when I judge adaptations I judge them as stand alone entities not as "adaptations of my favorite books". It's fine if you don't and your overt attachment to the books prevents you from judging the show fairly. That's your problem tho. Despite the many changes I like the first 4 seasons of GoT because its objectively good television.

I stand by the fact that in essence that Riverrun scene in the show is in-keeping with book Jaime's character, because Jaime even in the books still cares about and loves Cersei. I really hate when good guy Jaime theorists want to chart a map of linear progress for Jaime starting from "kid killer" to "saving the world" or whatever. Like let me remind you he hasn't reflected with any true remorse on killing Bran. He burnt Cersei's letter because he's angry, upset, betrayed, and humiliated. That's what his POV makes clear, along with the fact that he does clearly still love her. It's a twisted, toxic, relationship and its not as simple as oh now his honor replaces his love for Cersei as his primary motivation. What both show and book Jaime have in common is that they love Cersei, and no matter how much they want to stop caring about her, they can't.

I can also acknowledge at the same time that overall show Jaime and Cersei are different characters than their book counterparts. Show Jaime is certainly more overtly Cersei-centric. and sometimes it works (the ending - I for one am extremely happy Jaime didn't strangle Cersei, I don't think we needed a THIRD woman dying via intimate partner violence but ymmv depending on how much you want to watch women being strangled on screen oops i mean how important the prophecy is to you) sometimes it doesn't (the entirety of season 5).

And here's some other facts to blow your mind, anon:

I don't give a fuck if you think I read the books or not. I dont worship these books and I don't think GRRM is perfection and as much as I hate the later seasons of the show, the books have their own set of problems and some of those were addressed and improved on the tv show. Feel free to tell on me to Linda and Elio or the reddit bros or whomever else you have in your book purity corner lol, i read these books for personal enjoyment, not to feel morally superior while sending hateful anon messages on the internet lol.

I will block you if you continue to engage me on this topic in bad faith. I enjoy a good discussion but I really don't give enough of a shit to get into it with bad faith arguers. I like what I like. If you don't agree with my opinions feel free to block me and never speak to me again. You had that option in the first place and I wish you'd taken it.

#Asoiaf #Me.txt #Asks #Answered #Anon #This person really took my one reblog on this topic and ran with it all the way to sending anon hate #What year is it?? 2021???#Thought we're all too collectively zomobified from the 10+ year TWOW wait to give a shit any more #Ah well

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yenslilac · 5 years

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Daenerys Targaryen and Ophelia: An Essay

I wrote this a while back, just after Season 8 ended. After a few edits, I decided to share it with you! Disclaimer: I wrote this fueled with rage at 11 at night for two weeks straight. Don’t judge.

Part 1: The Heroine Goes Absolutely Bats**t Crazy

Ophelia. Known throughout time as That Crazy Chick Who Drowned Herself. What a legacy. And Daenerys: She Who Toasted A City Like Marshmallows And Then Was Offed By Her Nephew/Lover. The sad thing is, these are my heroes. What a life. But the ‘Insane Heroine’ trope is prevalent in many forms of media – Dark Phoenix is another example. At first glance, Daenerys and Ophelia have very little in common; Daenerys is a powerful and assertive leader, and Ophelia is a background love interest. The one thing that unites them – they go crazy because of rejected love. While their descent into madness is slightly different; Ophelia is pitiful, Daenerys aggressive, both end up dying indirectly or directly as a result of their lover. Lovely. Let’s talk first about Ophelia – She is rebuffed Hamlet, the original pathetic sad boy, and at the death of her father, goes insane. After several performances of her insanity, she makes her way to a river where she falls (or throws?) herself into the water and drowns. This is witnessed by Gertrude, who then goes on to tell her brother Laertes of her death. It’s a pretty monologue, describing the flowers and plants growing along the riverbank, and how pretty and peaceful she looked as she sank under water and DIED. Remember this. Then my girl Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men etc. etc. Oh boy. Ohhhhhh boy. What can I say except **************** ***** ** **********. Thank you for your time. But she like Ophelia, was scorned by her Boyfriend Who Felt It Was Just A Little Weird That She Was His Aunt. But like, your paternal grandparents and the rest of your great-whatever grandparents were siblings, and your maternal grandparents were cousins so… But I digress. Wait no, this is what it’s all about. I’m back! I un-digress! So, she goes ‘insane’ cause she can’t get laid (don’t we all?) and roasts a whole lot of people and becomes… Hitler for some reason… So, Boyfriend Who Felt It Was Just A Little Weird That She Was His Aunt And Really Wishes He Can Just Catch A Break For Once Is It Really Too Much Too Ask is egged on by Murder Sister™ and Smarty Pants McGee to kill her. Just like my friends! He makes out with her and stabs her (best of both worlds!) and she dies. Very prettily. Remember this. You know. YOU KNOW I’m going to rant about this.

Part 2: Heroic Man Kills The Crazy Lady Like The Feral Dog She Is (But Feels Sad About It)

Trope as old as time… why is this still fine… surely there’s a better plot deviiiiiice. “Duty is the death of love…” Shut up. Shut up. No, it isn’t. There is a thing called multitasking. You should try it. But let’s recap. Woman goes crazy because of lover/hero of the story rebuffing her because he’s got issues of his own that he doesn’t care to share with her, and close friend/family member is killed. This is when the paths of the Hero diverge. Hamlet does not actually kill Ophelia himself, but his careless actions towards her eventually drive her to suicide. Jon, on the other hand, does kill Daenerys, (no, I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed) by a knife to the heart while snogging her. (I’d like to take the opportunity to say that this was ridiculous and yes, I will die mad about it.) What else is similar? Hamlet holds Ophelia’s (or in some adaptations tries to) dead body in his arms as she is about to be buried and Jon holds Daenerys as she dies. They cry and wish it didn’t have to be this way, but really guys, this is Your Fault.

The problem with this trope in particular (and I’m talking about a lot of other examples here, like Dark Phoenix and Wolverine) is that it renders the killer sympathetic. They didn’t want to do this, but it was for the good of humanity, it was a mercy, blah blah blah. Really? Did someone make you kill her? No, a sense of moral justice does not count. Hamlet abuses and humiliates Ophelia then claims he loved her so much that ‘forty thousand brothers could not…” Creepy. I have to say, creepy. And Jon Snow. “Was it right? It doesn’t feel right…” I’m glad you came to that conclusion. I really am. But I knew this from the moment you stuffed that butter knife into her spleen, so honestly you don’t have any business feeling sorry for yourself. If there’s one lesson that Game of Thrones and Shakespeare has taught me, it is:

(not an artist, don’t judge)

Part 3: Someone Died And The Director Said, “Cool But Like… Make It Fashion.”

Do you remember what I told you to remember? Did you? Cause I’m about to RANT.

Throughout time (like 500 years) men have been painting Ophelia’s drowning – the probable suicide of a tormented young woman – and made sure she looked hot while doing it. True, the description of her death is pretty and all, but depictions of her floating just below the surface, a dramatic and lovely pose and flowers strewn around her glamorise her death – something many other people have taken note on – and give her death something of a peaceful, serene departing note, rather than the death of a woman so deranged she did not appear to understand the gravity of her situation as she sank under water. Daenerys suffers a similar case of SDPS (Sexy Dead Person Syndrome). Let’s go through it step by step, shall we? While in an embrace with someone she loves and trusts, she is stabbed in the heart area (I guess?), and she dies. The End. My respect for white men flew off with Drogon. But I haven’t complained properly yet! Compared to other characters, like Myrcella, Joffrey and Catelyn Stark to name a few, her death was very clean. In these other examples, blood runs down their faces or spurts out of their neck in suitably graphic fashion but Daenerys’ case, two thin lines of blood trickle from her nose and mouth. Pretty, pretty. We get a brief shot of a pool of blood on the snow as Drogon picks her up, but blink and you’ll miss it. She looks shocked and confused as she dies, yet the next shot of her face shows her eyes are closed and an almost peaceful expression on her face. Not only this but we don’t actually get any proper Last Words, when she knows she is about to die. She makes no sound at all. She dies prettily and quietly. We also don’t see the knife at all until she is dead, removing any very graphic nature from the scene. A lot of the camera shots are of Jon’s face. This scene is not about Daenerys Targaryen’s death; This is about Jon Snow’s inner turmoil as he selflessly sacrifices the woman he loves to save the rest of the world. Hold up one second I gotta……

I mean, come on. Daenerys is barely mentioned after her death. She, a woman who freed hundreds, no, thousands of slaves and worked hard to reach her goals (albeit a little dragonfire-y) yet she dies without a whisper and is forgotten almost immediately. She becomes less of a central character and more of a catalyst for other men’s rise to power (see Bran the Broken). Wait, what about Sansa, you cry? Well, at this point, she was so out of character I’m striking her from the narrative. Bye bitch 😊 The same goes for most of the other women in the last season. They become plot devices with a little agency and that’s about it. Missandei? Unnecessarily killed to create the “Mad Queen”. Cersei? A compelling villain reduced to a ‘crying girl who wants to be comforted’. Arya? Kills the Night King and then, I dunno. Sansa? Suspicious of Daenerys because of reasons, betrays her brother/cousin because she doesn’t want Daenerys on the throne, then just ‘forgets’ about this whole thing to become Queen in the North. Brienne? Honourable knight left sobbing after her one (k)night stand left her. Another thing that many of these women have in common (the ones who survived to the final episode anyway) is that none of them have romantic endgames despite this being set up. Arya and Gendry have been close friends in Season 2 and 3, then <3 and everyone (i.e. me) thought that you know, they get together and stuff, because that’s what the writers seemed to be setting up. But nope. Arya’s all like ‘I wanna kill the queen’ (which she never does) and throws all that out the window. (But Gendry was totally on that ship at the end). Brienne and Jaime seemed to finally stop eye fricking and then got straight to the actual fricking but nooooo. “I lOvE CeRseI! WE’re bOTh tERrIble PeOple!” And of course, the crowning glory:

And the woman who actually does come out on top is Sansa, a largely unemotional, suspicious woman whose brother is now the king and made her a queen because she’s his sister. Riiiight. That’s totally not nepotism or anything.

The End: But Boy, Am I Just Beginning

To conclude, the ending of Daenerys Targaryen was largely misogynistic as it painted a brutal and dishonourable murder as an act of mercy and gave the killer (sorry man, I feel like I’m throwing you under the bus here, but it must be said) a sympathetic angle as a heartbroken martyr sacrificing for the greater good. I had high expectations, I really did, but you just took it anD THREW IT IN THE DIRT. Good god. But it’s fine, I have fanfiction anyway.

Thank you for reading this, if you stuck around this far!

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys defense squad #daenerys death tw #ophelia #shakespeare #anti d and d #anti got

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fymagnificentwomcn · 5 years

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Women of Ottoman make me so sad especially when people hate on them. Those women lived horrible lives. Most of them were kidnapped, sold, thrown under a psycho Padisah. How can you wait for them to care for your kingdom? Of course they were going to survive for themselves and for their children. None of them deserves the hate they get. I hope God put all of them in peace. No human should go through such terrible things.

Totally agree Anon.

Women from Ottoman Empire cannot be for example compared with women from the West – first and foremost, they were slaves that at the very beginning lost their families, homes and even had to change their name and religion to have any chance at making a new life. Some lost their families very early, and often it also affected them emotionally when they grew up without having familial bonds. Even as consorts, they were one of many, and they had no legal status outside their children, Even mothers of princes other than hasekis were referred to as “Mother of Prince X” in records, and mothers of daughters were even more invisible. They had a very limited access to outside world, there was no way a woman could ascend the throne as a ruler in her own reign, other than as regent. Not to mention all matters connected with fratricide and kafes, it was living in constant fear. It’s hard to compare them to European queens, who had more stable and safe position even if they also had to face misogyny and oppression .

It was no fairytale, even in the show that didn’t show a lot of atrocities involved in slave trade and focused on those women who still somewhat “succeeded”.

I will use this opportunity to discuss some double standards about those who succeeded vs. those who didn’t pertaining to the TV show, but will later come to the crux, I promise.

The faux feminism in this fandom is astounding to me,including the glaring obvious double standards depending on who fan favourite is - and fan favourite is often who is simply “the coolest”, “most victorious”, “most stylish”, “most lucky”, generally young, beautiful, badass, and successful, not sad or depressed. We all know reactions to Hürrem and Mahidevran doing the same things back in original MY - when Mahidevran did awful things to Hürrem, she was just pathetic jealous woman, but when Hürrem did multiple times the same or worse things to other women it was “yass queen” and she ‘fights for her love, so touching, so strong, so great, self defence”. Suddenly Hürrem is allowed to do so because she”s “not like other girls, so not like these pathetic dumb losers”. Hürrem was strong, cunning, and smart, but she also had one clear advantage over all her “enemies” - the love of the most powerful man in Ottoman history. She made multiple mistakes too, but could always count on Suleiman turning a blind eye or forgiving her - something that Mahidevran or others could never count on.

Frankly, even Hürrem vs. Mustafa was often treated more as Hürrem vs. all this “pathetic” women that fought for Mustafa’s case aka Mahidevran or Suleiman’s sisters in fandom. Suddenly Mustafa cannot even defend his own mother because he immediately had it coming for “choosing the wrong side”. Even if you disapprove of him defending/not abandoning his mother, e.g. choosing to poison him sounds a little disproportionate, don’t you think? I said it and I will repeat it again – Hürrem is a character very similar to Cersei – yes, she suffered a lot because of a system devaluing women and yes she’s a survivor and a strong woman who managed to make life for herself in that system – but she’s not a feminist character because she actually only uses the system to her own advantage (and often perpetuates it), and actually displays a lot of traits of internalised misogyny, voicing multiple times how she is different from other girls and this is why she must be the only one by Suleiman’s side, while other women aren’t even entitled to dream about such things. She condemns Mahidevran for wanting to be the only one and being jealous, but then when Suleiman is with other woman she’s all “I’m not like pathetic Mahidevran, I must be the only one”. Same with multiple comments that she often makes… Hürrem was sassy &sarcastic, and had many good comebacks, but it makes me sad how people often cheered on and applauded those worst ones that again display internalised misogyny, like her mocking Mahidevran why she cares about her appearance so much when she doesn’t have a man to share a bed with? Or her again being all “I will give birth to many boys, and you won’t even give birth to a girl”. Again, that whole society was misogynistic and other women also were influenced by it, like they all wanted to give birth to a boy mostly…but often it is about status and wanting to raise/maintain rank, while Hürrem boasts the fact that she gives birth to many boys as again a trait to show how special&strong she is, even part of her reaction to Mihrimah’s birth is her unable to accept the fact that she could give birth to a girl and being disgusted by the fact.. yes, she accepts her later on and her reaction does also stem from being aware of how misogynist the system is, but it shows precisely that – yes, she is influenced by the system and suffered because of it, but at the same time she begins to display same behaviour that she suffered from, tries to cut herself from others in disadvantaged position. And yes, not all characters had similar reactions to giving births to daughters, and mind you Hürrem already had a son&became sultana, plus was Suleiman’s clear fave that could hope for more children. She wasn’t in the worst situation, even Hafsa and Suleiman were very happy at birth of a girl and nobody criticised her for it. Conversely, in MYK Kösem states multiple times that she wants to give Ahmed both sons and daughters, and when she’s pregnant with her second child, she says she wants a girl now for a change. Even when Ayşe hopes for a boy so that Murad’s anger may be melted, she’s happy about Kaya’s birth&clearly loves the baby from the start & is distraught when she is taken from her. Hürrem was never intended to be viewed as feminist, always justified heroine.. this is why instead of making her first bad deed be a revenge on Mahidevran, who had treated her horribly and unfairly, she attacked the person who was most kind to her of them all and who recently went through the same exact shit. Some people hate Gülnihal, but then say Hürrem wasn’t a homewrecker because she had the right to make life for herself in harem.. true, but so did Gülnihal, and it’s not like she could refuse to go to Suleiman’s chambers pls. It wasn’t to be seen as right, it was clearly shown that Hürrem can be both the oppressed and oppressor at the same time from the start. If they had wanted to make her character only all about revenge, they would have again made her gone after Mahi, not innocent Gülnihal, her “best friend”. And people going how Mahi is irredeemable, but with Hürrem it’s so okay because she’s cool while she slays..eh. I admit I never liked Hürrem because personally she never appealed to me, but I totally get why people stan her because she’s an interesting, three-dimensional character (and yes she does have a softer side too), I’m just bothered by some making her some empowered heroine who is excused for everything by the fact that she was a slave and suffered a lot because of it – because you know she is not the only one who went through the same shit – the harem is full of such women, for start. Even statesmen like Ibrahim or Rüstem are slaves (of course as men they have more opportunities for a career etc.), eunuchs attending ladies are slaves… This whole system is based on slavery, yet she often behaves & talks like she’s the only one who lost her family, was kidnapped & mistreated.

And even Nurbanu becoming her successor was accidental because she actually wanted her dead later, though of course Nurbanu was still clearly inspired by her. She never intended for anyone to follow her example and to make her elevation become a permanent element of Ottoman system, and it’s symbolised by her decision to bury the “ring of power” (lol) with her (though of course what Nurbanu did with taking it anyway was plain disgusting).

I think that trying to examine why this character behaves like that is more interesting than simply go YASSS QUEEN.

Thus said, I hate these reductive“takes” calling these women “bitches” because yes there are complex reasons why some of them have become pretty cruel, so while there are no excuses for some of the behaviour, the simple word “bitch” does not cut it at all.

/Yes, I discussed Hürrem here because out of all MY/K characters she seems to be the least hated among major female characters & biggest fan favourite,/

Anyway, the point is that neither Hürrem nor Mahidevran are the villains of the story. The show makes it clear in its last episodes that Suleiman is the true villain – he was the most powerful man at that time, when the padisah’s position was truly strong, as Gülfem put it in the finale “even leaf cannot fall without your approval”. He’s not as dumb or passive as it may seem at first glance -of course he needs to pretend to be objective and just, but he has his own agenda just as everyone else. Moreover, he pretended to be the one trying to ease conflicts… yet he was often the one enhancing them. Even from the start when he gave the ring he had promised Mahidevran to Hürrem&and in many ways humiliated her… then he did the same with giving Isabella necklace he had promised Hürrem. Bah, it was clear he often enjoyed making Hürrem jealous because it flattered his ego. He ultimately even enhanced the conflict between Selim and Bayezid to get rid of the latter, who was “the more dangerous son”. He was always pulling the strings.. he allowed Selim to buy Bayezid from Tahmasp by the way he conducted negotiations because he knew Bayezid would get rid of his brother on the road. It’s practically what Gülfem says to him in last episode again. He knew what backlash was directed at him following Mustafa’s death and he didn’t want another son killed in front of him. As Mahidevran said in the final episode to Mihrimah “It was your father who chose the lives we lived for all of us”. He was the one that determined the fate for everyone. And even if Mihrimah did not want to admit it in any way in front of her mother’s enemy, she pretty much understood then that Selim was also her father’s puppet in a way and it’s my guess why she ultimately decides to leave the palace instead of plotting revenge for Bayezid (and we know she would eventually be back). It was Suleiman who was pulling strings all along throughout the whole show, even sometimes by choosing to refrain from acting.

In MYK, the situation is different that we deal with incompetent, weak or even tyrannical sultans, who are also sometimes danger to ordinary people or break the Imperial law. Kösem acts here like the protector of sultanate and again we see different standards. Can you imagine how criticised Kösem would be if she had used similar methods to Murad’s or even once had gone to on “night spree” and executed people for banning all these dumb prohibitions? Yet for many Murad is the “cool guy” and “poor misunderstood Murad”. Calling Kösem a tyrant.. please you have an actual tyrant here. Look how much criticism she gets for saying “I’m the state”, while Murad calls himself “shadow of God on Earth” , “sole owner of the Ottoman Empire”, “I’m the justice” , “true death” etc. all the time and he’s “badass”. Or how she’s criticised because she dared to try to influence the Divan to convince Murad to change punishment for his prohibitions. She’s an “usurper”, not the guy who enacts unjust law and oppresses his subjects.

And here we come to crux – look at how Suleiman is treated in MY, everyone is flattering him, he’s the one who for most time isn’t blamed for what is happening, everyone strives to be in his good graces, his sons step on their toes around him and idealise him even when he behaves like a total asshat. Even when he dies people try to remember him for his “magnificence”

Now look at Kösem, a female ruler, who was turned by scapegoat by people when something went bad and she had far less freedom to make choices and yet far more criticism, blame shifting and insults thrown her way. Suleiman is credited “for making sacrifices for the Empire”… but he really didn’t have to execute all the people he decided to kill, and his decisions truly affected everyone badly and led to further mess, starting from Ibrahim’s.. It was especially visible in case of Mustafa – he was obviously innocent and didn’t intend to rebel, but after what happened rebellions did begin.Conversely, each difficult decision that Kösem made led to stabilisation in Empire and prevented unrest, yet what she does is interpreted by some as “wanting power for sake of power” because woman cannot act in favour of state nation or dynasty – there’s only personal interest or power hunger. Her life is clearly framed as tragedy both by the “curse” of her witnessing the death of everyone she loved and her death being a parallel scene to her capture - because she was never truly free.

Interestingly, IMO Suleiman for all his talent and his achievements, fucked up the succession issue – succession by combat truly began to run its course during that period & no longer even fulfilled functions for which it was practiced – to put on the throne “the strongest” contender, one with the biggest support, also most successful military commander – while it’s true that era of conquest was naturally over and Empire had to become more sedentary, it still doesn’t make Selim the strongest or best suited candidate for the throne after Suleiman – his not going on campaigns etc. and being more of palace sultan had nothing to do with him recognising the transformation, but simply lack of interest in state matters and preferring to have fun than to rule. He wasn’t some demon, but he was terribly passive & lazy. And him not being a warrior was the least of his problems. Suleiman had extreme power and authority, he introduced first law reform after Mehmed the Conqueror – the fact that he allowed such contest (and well his sons didn’t even wait for his death to start a civil war) was a bad decision when it came to long-term planning. Some may say maybe he would have done something concerning move to seniority if one of Hürrem’s sons had been the eldest… maybe, but we will never know. Contrary, while all Ahmed’s sons died during Kösem’s lifetime, we know her legacy connected with anti-fratricide law lived on – after her death fratricide was a rare occurrence with only a few special exceptions in specific circumstances.

Of course there’s also the matter that Suleiman’s era and Kösem’s era were totally different – here it was even a success to manage to stabilise Empire. And here we need to stress how important context is – I always stress how important it is to assess historical figures in context – for me it’s hard to even compare, let’s say Kösem and Hürrem, because they lived in different ages and fulfilled different roles, let alone comparisons between historical figures from other parts of the world, perhaps even from different age. I can’t understand e.g. why Peirce compared Kösem and Turhan to Elizabeth I and Mary Stuart in Empress of the East – both situations were completely different, the only thing they had in common was that there was a power struggle between two powerful women, which ended with one of them executing the other (and we don’t even have 100% confirmation of Turhan ordering Kosem’s execution because such thing wasn’t officially in her power). I appreciate Peirce a lot, but TBH this comparison was just dumb for a professional historian.

Kösem’s case really shows how loss of innocence may be used as weapon against you – very early on, she gets the lesson even with Ahmed – the moment she first became involved with scheming following the death of her father, he got mad at her for the duration of her whole pregnancy – he didn’t ask why she had done it or any other details – she wasn’t his “ideal fantasy” from the portrait anymore and this was what mattered – and only then changed his mind when after so many futile attempts made by Kösem to talk to him, she finally forced him to listen to her explanations & motivations, and subsequently he became all “I will make everyone pay for every tear of yours & for making us endure pain of separation”. Ah okay, but don’t forget about yourself ;) And once Kösem stopped being “şehzade’s dream” with death of Ahmed and was truly her own political leader, she became to be more and more exposed to this with the passing of time and once she acquainted more and more power.

And don’t forget some male historians praising Turhan for “giving the power back to the rightful hands aka men”… it tells you all, and it’s false anyway, since it didn’t mean Turhan losing interest in state affairs and only caring about the harem (and honestly, “Köprülü was “her man”, she didn’t choose someone she had no influence upon). That was what she decided the Empire needed at that particular moment, not because she realised that politically involved women sucked lmao.

- Joanna

#ottoman history #magnificent century #magnificent century kosem #muhteşem yüzyıl #muhteşem yüzyıl kösem #answered #you know guys all these answeres were written during all these months the blog was on semi-hiatus #and as I did a lot of rewatch #I put a lot of my thoughts during rewatch to these answers #I doubt they will be as long when I open the askbox again tbh #mods opinions

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thetrailofyourbloodinthesnow · 4 years

Photo

for the prompt Joanna and children

for @incurablescribbler

The song of steel lures Joanna to her window. In the distance she can see the large figure of the Master-at-arms, looking over two boys clashing swords: a tall one with dark brown hair and a smaller one with golden curls whose back is turned to Joanna. The swords they use have dull edges, fit for practice, yet, the sight of them still makes Joanna nervous. Perhaps she’s being overprotective, but she can’t shake the feeling than her son is too young for steel and that he’ll should be sticking to wooden swords. But Jaime had insisted – and the Master-at-arms had backed him – that he was ready for them, and seeing him practicing, she admits that he was right; the boy he’s fighting with is older and already a squire, and yet he’s getting bested by her son.

He’ll make a great knight one day. Usually that thought makes her chest swell with pride. Instead, right now, it makes her sad and she can’t understand why. Is it because she can feel him slipping away from his mother’s arms into a world of swords and horses, jousts and mêlées, blood and sweat, a world in which his mother has no place?

It’s a somber thought, that kind of which have crossed her mind more often lately. Is this room. I'm not made to be locked in here. She’s used to roam the castle, giving orders and making sure they are followed through, or holding court in the audience chamber, or greeting guests in the courtyard, anything but staying in her chambers staring at the ceiling all day. She wishes terribly to go back to her routine, but the Master had been firm in his orders that she keeps to her chambers resting; for her own sake and the sake of the child she carries. I wouldn’t be able to do much anyway, she thinks resigned. My belly is so swollen that even a small walk would leave me gasping for air.

Even then, the boredom of her enclosure doesn’t weight on her as much of the loneliness does. If only her husband was at her side. But Tywin is away at King’s Landing, handling the realm in the name of a king that mistrust him more every day. At times like this she wants to ask him to renounce his post, to stay with her ruling Casterly Rock together as it’s meant to be. But she knows it’s a lost cause, that he trusts her to rule alone over their lands. As well as over their household, their family and over herself. So, she never lets her desires show on the letters she sends him regularly, and resigns herself to keep missing her son and her husband.

At least she has her daughter. Her Cersei comes to visit her every day and Joanna tries to teach her the business of being a lady. It was easier before, when she could teach her by example – she would go about her duties with her daughter trailing behind, following her mother into a world of dresses and ornaments, balls and drawing room gatherings, courtesies and good manners, and blood and sweat too, but of a different kind. She would set a small chair besides her High Seat so Cersei could accompany her while she listened to the petitioners that came to the Rock. She would announce her verdicts and explained the reasoning behind them to the girl, who was quick to understand. The memory of her daughter sitting next to her – her back straight and chin up, trying to look imposing at eight years old – brings a smile to Joanna’s face. She will make a fine lady one day.

Or a queen. Tywin hasn’t said it yet, but Joanna is not blind to her husband’s ambition. She knows he would like to see his daughter wed to young prince Rhaegar, and one day his grandson on the Iron Throne. It was that type of ambition that draw her to him in the first place; that impulse of climbing higher and having the guts and the cunning to reach the top. It was his ambition that brought back the prestige of their house after Lord Tytos made them the laughing stock of the realm. But Joanna worries that her husband might be overreaching. For another King, a daughter of House Lannister would make a fine match for the Prince of Dragonstone, but is Aerys they are talking about – capricious, envious, prideful Aerys – who would likely reject the alliance just to slight her husband, as he so delights in doing.

She can’t forget how he humiliated her at the Anniversary Tourney. Remembering it still makes her teeth grind. He had asked her (with his wine-stinking breath) if giving suck to her twins had ruined her breasts, “which were so high and proud." Tywin was so angry that he presented his renounce, but the King refused to accept it. And, to Joanna’s frustration, he stayed in his post to this day. But she knows he hasn’t forgotten either, not that nor any other slight. He remembers them all and will remember to pay them back twofold. A Lannister always pays his debts.

Yet, even knowing that, to think of her daughter being in the vicinity of that man sickens her. A crown is no less than Cersei deserves, but if to have it she must go to the wolf’s den then Joanna would prefer that she stayed crownless in Casterly Rock forever.

Crown in her future of not, there’s still a lot that she must teach Cersei, and it seems she should start with how to keep one’s temper. She’s pleasantly surprised when the groom announces – hours before she expected them – that Cersei and her Septa request entrance to my lady’s chamber for their daily visit. Her smile disappears, however, when Septa Lynora enters her chamber with a sour expression, carrying her daughter by the wrist, who looks at the septa as if she wants to grind her to sand. Oh, now what?

"My lady, forgive me for bothering you by coming here early. But I’m afraid your daughter needs to be disciplined.”

“And why don’t you discipline her yourself, septa?” Joanna asks, irritated. “Isn’t that your job?”

“I...” Septa Lynora seems to lose her voice. And Joanna catches Cersei trying to hide her smile at the older woman’s plight.

“What did she do?” Joanna nods at Cersei who immediately loses her glee.

“She pushed Ella Marbrand into a mud puddle,” the septa replies. Ella Marbrand was the newest of Cersei’s companions. She and her brother Addam had arrived at Casterly Rock barely a fortnight earlier. And while his brother (who served as a page) and Jaime had become fast friends, she and Cersei were having more of a rough start.

“She deserved it!” Cersei stomps her feet in the ground. “She was being such a pretentious moron.” Her daughter then goes on a long rant about the girl; how she’d been bragging all day about the things she’d brought with her from Ashemark: fine dresses, rare jewelry, exquisite perfumes, and so on and so forth. She also presumed of her relatives; their position at court, their ancient and exalted lineage, and their connections with other Houses. Especially with the Lannister themselves. Who could forget that lord Tywin’s mother was born a Marbrand? “She even said that we should strengthen the ties between our families by having the heir of Casterly Rock married to a Marbrand again,” Cersei sounds outraged. “She meant she should marry Jaime!” she crinkles her nose at the idea.

Joanna lets her rant, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Petty fights between girls were the least of her concerns. And really, her daughter should learn to ignore silly comments from a girl who clearly has more ambition than brain.

“And you know what else she said?” Cersei doesn’t seem to notice her mother’s lack of interest and continues unrestrained. “She said that father seems to be getting too full of himself, thinking he is the king instead of Aerys. That, as capable as he is, someone needs to remind him that he is really just a servant to the Iron Throne.”

“She said that?” That does piques Joanna’s interest. The words of a child are of little importance, but children often repeat the words of their elders. House Marbrand had been a loyal vassal to the Lannister in the past, but loyalties could change like the weather. She makes a mental note to mention it to Tywin in her next letter. “Did she mention hearing that from someone else?”

“Yes, she said she heard it from her cousin who lives at court, and that many others agree. Such a liar.” She lets out a huff. “That was when I pushed her into the mud.”

Joanna can’t help feeling a certain pride at her daughter’s fierceness in defending her father – a true lioness – but she knows she can’t let that behavior carry on.

“You are a lady, Cersei. You can’t toss your friends in the mud. No matter what they say”

“She’s not my friend! She’s a horrid little airhead. I don’t like her at all, can’t you send her home?” Joanna knows her daughter is truly upset, but her little pout is rather adorable. It does a lot to ease her annoyance at her childishness. After all, she is a child. She just needs to be taught better.

Joanna asks the septa to leave them alone and gestures Cersei to sit next to her.

“I cannot send her home; it would be considered an insult by the Marbrands.” She explains calmly. “Furthermore, there’s something you need to understand: whether you like her or not plays no role in her being your companion.” Cersei starts to protest that, but Joanna carries on, “She is your lady because is critical for our House that we foster good relationships with our vassals. Is important that you are her friend, or at least that you’re cordial to her. Chances are, you will know ladies that you like even less than Ella Marbrand, but you must always be courteous no matter what. You, my love, are a daughter of House Lannister. You carry our reputation on your shoulders. You must never lower to the level of any ‘little airhead’, understand?”

“I guess…” Cersei admits reluctantly.

“And more importantly,” Joanna continues, “The maidens that you befriend today will one day become the wives of your brother’s Bannermen and the mothers to their heirs, and they will have influence over their husbands and sons. You will find that the connections you form now will come very handy once you’ve grown.” She thinks of her friend the Princess of Dorne; how they had met as young girls serving as ladies to princess Raella, and how beneficial that connection was turning out to be. Tywin wasn’t the only one who had plans for their children’s future. “So, you must make peace with Ella Marbrand.”

“But mother…”

“No buts. You will apologize to her before the day is done. That’s an order, Cersei.”

Her daughter’s jaw clenches tightly for a moment before begrudgingly saying: “Yes, mother.”

“Good girl.” Joanna runs her fingers through Cersei’s golden locks, but she stays stiff, unacknowledging her mother’s caress. “I know you’ll become a great lady. You’ll make your father proud.” That manages to bring a smile to her lips, and she lets Joanna pull her closer and place her arm around her little shoulders. “Now, tell me what else happened to you today.”

Cersei leans her head upon Joanna’s shoulders and begins describing her lessons with the Maester, her horse ride through Lannisport, her games with Jaime, and all her other activities, while Joanna listens attentively and feels glad that her daughter’s life is full of joy and innocence, where the only thing that can bother her are petty fights with other girls than can be easily resolved. Spending those moments with her daughter, talking and laughing with her, is enough to wash away the gloomy mood that had taken over her earlier. She bids goodbye to Cersei for the afternoon with a kiss in her forehead and an exhortation to apologize to Ella Marbrand before the day is done.

Alone again, Joanna rests upon her comfiest couch and begins going through the account books that the Steward had left her. Then, a sudden drowsiness assails her, the numbers begin to blend before her eyes and her eyelids close on their own accord.

A tapping on her door awakes her. She doesn’t know how long she slept, but a quick look at the window reveals her that is beginning to dusk. She allows the caller to enter, and it’s the groom, who announce her that Septa Lynora once again request entrance in her chambers.

Joanna’s first thought is that Cersei’s apology must not have gone as well as she had expected. The septa’s face is ashen and somehow seems more winkled than earlier (something Joanna wouldn’t have thought possible). But the girl who accompanies her is not Cersei. Rather, is a scrawny girl who wears a handmaid’s attire. She’s casting nervous glances upon every place in the room except for Joanna’s face.

“My lady, forgive me for bothering you again,” begins the old septa. “But there’s a grave matter that I must inform you of.” She beckons the reluctant girl to stand next to her and continues: “This maid came to speak to me about something she saw today.” Septa Lynora swallows audibly as she struggles with her speech. “She says that she surprised my lady’s twins doing some… unspeakable acts.”

Unspeakable acts? Joanna knows that the septa has an inclination to dramatics and might use that term for any childish misdeed. But something tells her that wherever Jaime and Cersei were doing was grave indeed. Though she cannot imagine what it could have been. “What did she saw them do?” she asks.

“It’s better if you explain it yourself,” Septa Lynora tells the girl who answers her with a look of dismay. “Speak, child,” the Septa commands the servant, and speak she does…

Joanna listens incredulous to the girl’s tell. Her mind struggles to even imagine it. Cersei and Jaime… But they are just children… No, they couldn’t have been doing that… Impossible, no!...

After the servant finishes speaking, Joanna stays sitting there, unmoving, staring at the distance. After a few uncomfortable moments, Septa Lynora clears her throat and inquires, “My lady, are you all right?”

Joanna turns her eyes to the older woman. “Do you believe this? Did you speak to them?” she asks in a taut voice.

“I did speak to them, my lady,” the septa replies, while fidgeting with her woven belt. “They denied it at first, but I saw the fault in their faces, especially in young Jaime’s. It was only after I promised that I wouldn’t tell you that they confessed,” she looks into Joanna’s eyes. “Their confession matched this handmaid’s story. It’s true.”

It’s true. It’s true. It’s true. Those words keep echoing in Joanna’s head as the world begins to whirl around her. Shock, horror and disgust battle for dominance inside of her. Her stomach flips. She gets up abruptly – startling the two other women – and staggers to reach the chamber pot at the side of her bed. She falls heavily to her knees and empties her stomach into the pot.

“My lady!” she hears the septa shriek, and a moment later she feels someone sinking next to her and holding her shoulders, and someone else holding her hair back from her face. Joanna’s stomach keeps on contracting violently and choking her with vomit until everything is finally out.

When she’s able to breathe again, she looks to her right and sees that is the girl who is holding her. Joanna shakes her hands off and turns her eyes from her. She can’t even look at her; that dark raven, bringer of dark words. Her eyes swarm up with tears. “Leave,” she orders. She once told Cersei that tears were a woman’s weapons, but she doesn’t feel protected by them now. In fact, she only feels the humiliation of being seen so vulnerable. “The two of you leave now!”

The girl doesn’t need to be told twice, she rises from the floor and after curtsying practically runs out of the room. The septa stays where she is, thought. “My lady, shouldn’t I call the Maester? You’re not well…”

“No!” She can’t stand someone else seeing her like this. “Just leave me alone!” After a final look of concern, Septa Lynora curtsies and turns to leave as well. “Wait!” Joanna stops her right before she closes the door. “The children. You must separate them. Place Jaime’s room far from Cersei’s.” The septa nods and finally leaves.

Even after they had left the nursery, the twins couldn’t stand to be apart. So, Joanna had placed their rooms across from each other, and they had the custom of staying in each other’s bed at night. And she had allowed that, thinking they were still too young for it to be inappropriate. She feels sick thinking about it.

Her twins. Her precious babies. They had always been so alike that only their clothes told them apart. Together everywhere they went. Seeming to understand each other without the need of words. Their connection had always seemed so sweet to Joanna. She’d been glad that, despite their difference in gender and personality, they always got along so well.

Now, she didn’t know what to think. How couldn’t she have noticed it? Had she unknowingly allowed it or even encouraged it? She doesn’t know and that’s the worst part. This revelation makes her doubt herself and her motherhood at the worst possible time: when she’s about to bring another child into the world.

Joanna stays curled up on the floor of her chambers, pressing her head against the side of her bed as the sobs bust up through her throat. A long while after, when her crying has subdued, she gets up with great difficulty and sits upon the bed, drying her tear-stained face. Her breakdown passed; she takes a decision. She couldn’t prevent what happened, but she can still fix it.

It’s past sunset when she has the maid brought back to her presence. Joanna is the image of composure and pose as she politely thanks her for her services to house Lannister, and informs her that said services will be no longer needed. The girl protests at losing her job, saying she has done nothing to deserve being dismissed, that she was only warning m’lady of what she saw. Joanna interrupts her; she doesn’t want to hear again about what the girl had seen. She would rather forget that she ever heard it.

She hands the maid a leather pouch. The girl opens it; there’s a pause and then her lips curl at its content.

Joanna hates that smile. She imagines the wench in a filthy tavern, presuming of her gold, telling everyone within an earshot how the Lady of Casterly Rock had given it to her to keep her children’s dirty secrets.

She yanks the maid’s arm and lowers her to her face. The girl cries out as Joanna’s nails dig into her flesh.

“You won’t say a word of it,” she orders. “You understand? Not a word, or I will have your head!”

“Y-yes m’lady,” the girl’s eyes are wide with terror. “I won’t say anything.”

Joanna lets her go and the girl scurries off the room without looking back.

When she’s alone again, Joanna shrinks in her chair with a sigh, it has been a long day and she feels dreadfully tired. What she wants more in the world right now is to lay in her coverts and sleep – hopefully she will awake to find out that it has all been a nightmare – but there’s still something she must do before the night is over.

Joanna makes her way to Cersei’s chambers; a guard has been posted at her door to make sure her twin doesn’t get in or – more likely – that she gets out. Inside, it looks as if a tornado has rampaged the room. Tables have been turned and curtains have been ripped, the articles of Cersei’s vanity have been tossed around and her garments sprawled across the floor. Even her favorite dolls have not survived her fit. Finding nothing else to target her anger at, Cersei finally resigned to sit by her window, frowning at the glass as if trying to break it with the sheer force of her glare. Septa Lynora is standing at her side chastising her, but Cersei simply ignores her. Until she sees Joanna's reflection in the glass and rushes to her.

“Mother!” She tries to wrap her little arms around Joanna’s middle, – something made difficult by her protruding belly – sure that her salvation has finally arrived. “Mother, Septa Lynora has looked me in my room. She doesn’t want to let me see Jaime. Mother, tell her to let me out.”

But she is left cold when Joanna doesn’t immediately return her embrace to comfort her, bad mouthing the Septa for mistreating her child. Instead Joanna looks hard at her and crosses her arms. “Septa Lynora has only done what I order her to do.”

Cersei steps back as if she’s been struck. “But, why?” she whines outraged.

“Don’t play fool, Cersei. You know exactly why.”

“I’ve been trying to lecture her on the grievous sin she has committed,” Septa Lynora intervenes. “But she resorted to storm her room in a rage, as my Lady can see,” she gestures at the surrounding mess. “Even when I told her that we could pray for her forgiveness…”

“I don’t need to pray for forgiveness, you old hag!” Cersei snaps. “I already told you, we did nothing wrong!”

“That’s not what the servant girl saw. Nor what you admitted to Septa Lynora earlier.”

“I lied, mother. Septa Lynora was yelling at me to admit to whatever that girl said she saw. I got scared. I only said what she wanted me to say.” With her watery eyes and lip trembling, Cersei is rather convincing. Joanna wants to believe her, but she knows her daughter; Cersei has sufficient stubbornness in her to look at the blue sky and claim it is green. She can’t have suddenly become so afraid of her Septa – who never had much power to intimidate her before – that she would admit to something she hadn’t done.

“Really?” Joanna asks in a sarcasm-soaked voice. “Or was it that you believed the Septa’s words that she wouldn’t tell your mother if you admitted to her what you did?”

“N-no, mother,” Cersei stutters. “She said that? She lied to you. They both did.”

“So, everyone always lies except for you, Cersei. Is that’s how it is?”

“Yes! I mean, no. I mean…” she’s babbling in a way she rarely does. Except when she knows she has been caught.

“And tell me, why Septa Lynora would want to inculpate you with something like this?” Joanna can feel the anger building up inside her, forming a tight burning ball in her guts. But she wills herself to keep her voice calm. She doesn’t want to scream at her child. She only wants the truth. “What will she gain from it?”

“I-I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her? She’s…”

“Enough!” Joanna snaps and immediately regrets it when Cersei recoils from her. She breathes deeply and says evenly: “Cersei, you already are in a truly serious problem. If you don’t want to make it worse, you must be honest. Don’t try to deviate from the subject or blame others. Just tell me the full truth.”

Her daughter stays quiet, her face turning pink and her eyes cast down, unable to bear the burden of her mother’s stare.

“Won’t you say anything?” there’s an edge of desperation in Joanna voice. Because she truly wants Cersei to deny what she’s been accused of, and for her denial to make sense, so she can believe her. She wants none of this to be true. But Cersei is silent as a grave. Joanna sights again, “Very well, since you won’t speak to me, I will go. I’ll come back tomorrow and see if you’re willing to tell the truth. You are not allowed to leave your chambers till then.”

Cersei’s rage reawakens: “That’s not fair!” tears of frustration start to stream down her flushed cheeks. “Why don’t you believe me, mother? That serving wench lied to you. We did nothing wrong!”

Joanna is not listening anymore. She turns back and leaves the chambers without another word. Once outside, she begins her trek to the other end of the Rock, where her son has been housed. She has to stop several times on the way to catch her breath and give some relief to her swollen feet that makes every step feel like she’s walking on spikes. After what feels like an eternity, she reaches her son’s door.

Unlike his sister, Jaime receives her without objection. He doesn’t say much, and keeps his head lowered, seemingly unable to meet his mother’s eyes. Seeing him thus makes Joanna’s heart ache even more than Cersei’s harsh words, for she sees an admission of guilt.

“Jaime, look at me,” she keeps her tone calm, but firm, she wants him to know she’s not there to scream and rage at him. Her son looks up tentatively from beneath his eyelashes. “I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to be fully honest with me. Were you and Cersei doing what that maid said she saw you do?”

Jaime averts his eyes again and nods. “But we were just playing,” he explains. “We saw the dogs in the kennels doing it, and the horses too. We were trying to imitate them, and it felt good, so…”

“Those aren’t games, Jaime.” Although she feels relieved to hear him describing it as such. They were just children plays; misguided but innocent. Not the unnatural sinful tendencies that Septa Lynora had made them out to be. They are children; they just need to be taught better. “You are not dogs or horses. Children should never do those things, especially if they are siblings.”

“W-we didn’t know that,” he murmurs meekly.

“I believe you,” she says, and Jaime sights relieved. “But, remember what your father said to you the last time you saw him?”

“He said that I was the Lord of Casterly Rock in his absence, and that I had to protect my mother and sister,” he recalls solemnly.

“Precisely. But you did the exact opposite of that today.” Confusion and dismay are plain in Jaime’s face. He knew that he had done wrong, but he hadn’t realized how he had failed his father. “If these were to be known, her reputation would be ruined. She wouldn’t be able to find a good husband.”

“Does she have to get married?”

“Yes,” Joanna’s tone leaves no room for debate. She remembers Cersei’s outrage at the idea of Jaime marring Ella Marbrand; it doesn’t seem so innocent anymore. “It’s inevitable. When she’s of age, she will marry and start a family. And so will you. Or would you have your sister be a spinster?” She makes it sound like a fate worse than death.

Jaime shakes his head. “No, I don’t want that.” His lip trembles and tears began to flow from his emerald eyes. “I’m sorry,” he sobs.

“I forgive you.” Joanna draws her handkerchief and wipes away her son’s tears. “Wrongs done in ignorance can be forgiven. As long as you don’t repeat them. Listen, I know you love your sister. I understand that you feel like you’re two parts of a whole. It makes sense; you’ve been together since before you were born. But there are things that you cannot share with her. Your bond has a limit, and today you have crossed it.” She gently lifts Jaime’s chin with her hand, looking him straight in the eyes. “Promise me, Jaime, that you will never do that again. Or I will have no choice but to tell your father.”

“I promise,” he’s so serious when he says it that Joanna believes him hole-heartily. She draws him to her arms, tucking him under her chin. She begins to rock him gently, letting the warmth of his body permeate her own, overturning all the doubts and fears that besiege her. She feels assured again.

Jaime will be a great knight one day. Cersei will be a great lady. And the child that is coming will follow their lead.

As long as the Gods give her breath, she’ll make sure of that.

#asoiaf #asoiaf fic #joanna lannister #jaime lannister #cersei lannister #my edits #my fics

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