#operation stumpy re-read

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

TWOW: Alayne I (Sansa I)

My little lovebug! ❤️

She's finally here! 🥺

To celebrate, I might just copy and paste the whole gosh darn thing. You've been warned.

Ladies and gentlemen, brace yourselves for the mind-blowing, heart-stopping, epic conclusion of Operation Stumpy Re-Read Project!

Before we dive in, we need to revisit a theory that I proposed in Jon X, ADWD.

The last time we saw Jon's and Sansa's points of view in the same book was A Storm of Swords. You might recall the deliberate placement of their back-to-back chapters was anything but subtle.

The text was often copied verbatim, the situations were perfectly mirrored, and the topics of love, marriage, and family were prevalent in both.

You can view a quick summary of it all here.

That brings us to this chapter. Some of you might not be aware, but George was originally planning to put Alayne I in A Dance with Dragons.

That Sansa chapter I talked about finishing, for instance. It's still finished, but my editor and I decided it belongs in THE WINDS OF WINTER, not A DANCE WITH DRAGONS, so it's been moved into the next book. Sansa will not appear in DANCE. - Not a Blog

Based on the intentional placement of previous Jon and Sansa chapters, I have hypothesized that it should be possible to determine the original planned position of this Alayne chapter.

Below, I will do my best to argue Alayne I, TWOW was originally indented to appear directly before Jon X, ADWD.

Alright, it's time!

She was reading her little lord a tale of the Winged Knight when Mya Stone came knocking on the door of his bedchamber, clad in boots and riding leathers and smelling strongly of the stable. Mya had straw in her hair and a scowl on her face. That scowl comes of having Mychel Redfort near, Alayne knew.

I'm so slow, I'm only now picking up on the vague hints of Jon and Sansa's connection from the highborn-lowborn divide between Mya and Mychel Redfort.

She sounded so like Sansa, so happy and innocent with her dreams. Catelyn smiled, but the smile was tinged with sadness. The Redforts were an old name in the Vale, she knew, with the blood of the First Men in their veins. His love she might be, but no Redfort would ever wed a bastard. His family would arrange a more suitable match for him, to a Corbray or a Waynwood or a Royce, or perhaps a daughter of some greater house outside the Vale. - Catelyn VI, AGOT

She even had a king for a dad!

+.+.+

Why did she have to mention Harry? Alayne thought. We will never get Sweetrobin out of bed now. The boy slapped a pillow. "Send them away. I never asked them here." Mya looked nonplussed. No one in the Vale was better at handling a mule, but lordlings were another matter. "They were invited," she said uncertainly, "for the tourney. I don't…" Alayne closed her book. "Thank you, Mya. Let me talk with Lord Robert, if you would."

Oh look, 13-year-old Sansa is acting 24 again, and can I just mention she's absolutely fantastic at managing her son cousin.

+.+.+

"I hate that Harry," Sweetrobin said when she was gone. "He calls me cousin, but he's just waiting for me to die so he can take the Eyrie. He thinks I don't know, but I do." "Your lordship should not believe such nonsense," Alayne said. "I'm sure Ser Harrold loves you well." And if the gods are good, he will love me too. Her tummy gave a little flutter.

Back to 13.

Just like Arya and Mercy, you can still find traces of Sansa in Alayne.

+.+.+

"I don't want you to marry him, Alayne. I am the Lord of the Eyrie, and I forbid it." He sounded as if he were about to cry. "You should marry me instead. We could sleep in the same bed every night, and you could read me stories."

In the future, it might be a good idea to ensure that Jon and Sweetrobin are kept apart at all times.

+.+.+

No man can wed me so long as my dwarf husband still lives somewhere in this world. 

I don't know about that.

"Hush, you'll be the death of us. I did nothing. Come, we must away, they'll search for you. Your husband's been arrested."

"Tyrion?" she said, shocked.

"Do you have another husband? The Imp, the dwarf uncle, she thinks he did it." - Sansa V, ASOS

x

When Her Grace suggested that she would be pleased to help arrange marriages for his sons to the daughters of great southern lords, Lord Stark refused brusquely. "We keep the old gods in the North," he told the queen. "When my boys take a wife, they will wed before a heart tree, not in some southron sept." - Fire & Blood

+.+.+

Alayne stroked his fingers. "There, my Sweetrobin, be still now." When the shaking passed, she said, "You must have a proper wife, a trueborn maid of noble birth." "No. I want to marry you, Alayne." Once your lady mother intended that very thing, but I was trueborn then, and noble.

Trust me, this is less than nothing, we're only warming up. I can do way better than this.

(-> -> -> Jon X?)

"Who brings this woman to be wed?" asked Melisandre.

"I do," said Jon. "Now comes Alys of House Karstark, a woman grown and flowered, of noble blood and birth." - Jon X, ADWD

+.+.+

Alayne smoothed his hair. Lady Lysa had never let the servants touch it, and after she had died Robert had suffered terrible shaking fits whenever anyone came near him with a blade, so it had been allowed to grow until it tumbled over his round shoulders and halfway down his flabby white chest. He does have pretty hair. If the gods are good and he lives long enough to wed, his wife will admire his hair, surely. That much she will love about him. 

Mounting evidence that Sansa is plotting to kill Robert Arryn.

Why would he fear a blade?

+.+.+

"The Lord of the Eyrie can do as he likes. Can't I still love you, even if I have to marry her? Ser Harrold has a common woman. Benjicot says she's carrying his bastard." Benjicot should learn to keep his fool's mouth shut.

Lmao.

+.+.+

"Is that what you would have from me? A bastard?" She pulled her fingers from his grasp. "Would you dishonor me that way?" The boy looked stricken. "No. I never meant —" Alayne stood. "If it please my lord, I must go and find my father. Someone needs to greet Lady Waynwood." Before her little lord could find the words to protest, she gave him a quick curtsy and fled the bedchamber [...].

Masterfully done!

This is why I can't have children, I would have locked him in a closet.

+.+.+

When she had left Petyr Baelish that morning he had been breaking his fast with old Oswell who had arrived last night from Gulltown on a lathered horse. 

Did you know that the number of references to Oldtown gradually increases from book to book until it surges in A Storm of Swords, right before the city is formally introduced at the beginning of A Feast for Crows?

Gulltown is on a similar trajectory. The city is referenced nine times in this chapter alone. Nine.

+.+.+

Though snow had blanketed the heights of the Giant's Lance above, below the mountain the autumn lingered and winter wheat was ripening in the fields.

For timeline purposes: Sansa is lagging behind where Brienne and Jon currently are in the story.

Snow in the riverlands. If it was snowing here, it could well be snowing on Lannisport as well, and on King's Landing. Winter is marching south, and half our granaries are empty. Any crops still in the fields were doomed. [...] "I know," Jaime said, "there has been a white raven from the Citadel. Winter has come." - Jaime VII, AFFC

+.+.+

Alayne loved it here. She felt alive again, for the first since her father… since Lord Eddard Stark had died.

Stop.

+.+.+

She hoped they might still be talking, but Petyr's solar proved empty. Someone had left a window open and a stack of papers had blown onto the floor. [...] She closed the window, gathered up the fallen papers, and stacked them on the table. One was a list of the competitors. Four-and-sixty knights had been invited to vie for places amongst Lord Robert Arryn's new Brotherhood of Winged Knights, and four­ and-sixty knights had come to tilt for the right to wear falcon’s wings upon their warhelms and guard their lord.

It is widely speculated she saw something she shouldn't have, but hasn't fully grasped the significance yet.

Did you know there's 64 squares on a chessboard?

+.+.+

The competitors came from all over the Vale, from the mountain valleys and the coast, from Gulltown and the Bloody Gate, even the Three Sisters. Though a few were promised, only three were wed; the eight victors would be expected to spend the next three years at Lord Robert's side, as his own personal guard (Alayne had suggested seven, like the Kingsguard, but Sweetrobin had insisted that he must have more knights than King Tommen), so older men with wives and children had not been invited.

We love a petty king.

so older men with wives and children had not been invited.

Perfect for Blackfish! Where is that former Knight of the Gate? I know he's coming, the ellipsis of truth tells no lies.

And if Ser Brynden should survive this siege, he might be inclined to claim Riverrun in his own name . . . or in the name of young Robert Arryn. - Jaime V, AFFC

Where else is he supposed to go?

Edit:

Oh! @decadelongsummer reminded me that Jaime I, ADWD would have come before this. (<- <- <-)

"Might the Blackfish seek refuge at Raventree?"

"He might seek it, but to find it he'd need to get past my siege lines, and last I heard he hadn't grown wings. [...]" - Jaime I, ADWD

+.+.+

"They're young, eager, hungry for adventure and renown. Lysa would not let them go to war. This is the next best thing. A chance to serve their lord and prove their prowess. They will come. Even Harry the Heir." He had smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. "What a clever daughter you are."

I will turn your liver into paste, and feed it to cats.

+.+.+

"What a clever daughter you are." It was clever.

✨ Clever girl! ✨

Dontos chuckled. "My Jonquil's a clever girl, isn't she?" - Sansa IV, ACOK

x

"There's a clever girl." He smiled, his thin lips bright red from the pomegranate seeds. - Sansa VI, ASOS

x

"[...] It was clever of you to see it. Though no more than I'd expect of mine own daughter." - Sansa I, AFFC

x

Sers, the Lady Alayne, my natural and very clever daughter . . . - Alayne II, AFFC

+.+.+

The tourney, the prizes, the winged knights, it had all been her own notion. Lord Robert's mother had filled him full of fears, but he always took courage from the tales she read him of Ser Artys Arryn, the Winged Knight of legend, founder of his line. Why not surround him with Winged Knights? She had thought one night, after Sweetrobin had finally drifted off to sleep. His own Kingsguard, to keep him safe and make him brave.

Sounds like something a queen might be responsible for planning.

Unreliable narrator Sansa Stark (or George R. R. Martin). Ser Artys Arryn was not the legendary Winged Knight from the Age of Heroes. Two different people.

I don't know if this is important or not, but while reading the history of Ser Artys, a few things stuck out.

Leading the attack was a champion in silvered steel, with a moon-and-falcon on his shield and wings upon his warhelm. Ser Artys Arryn had clad one of his knights retainer in his spare suit of armor, leaving him in camp whilst he himself took his best horsemen up and around a goat track that he remembered from his childhood, so they might reappear behind the First Men and descend on them from above. - The World of Ice and Fire

While fighting King Robar II Royce, Ser Artys used a decoy of himself, while he snuck up and around a goat track that he remembered from his childhood.

What's interesting about that is that Roose Bolton uses a decoy in ADWD, which fools Ramsay.

When the rider in the dark armor removed his helm, however, the face beneath was not one that Reek knew. Ramsay's smile curdled at the sight, and anger flashed across his face. "What is this, some mockery?" - Reek II, ADWD

But what really stands out is the goat tracks. I know a character who has deep appreciation for goat tracks being used during war.

"Goat tracks?" The king's eyes narrowed. "I speak of moving swiftly, and you waste my time with goat tracks?"

"When the Young Dragon conquered Dorne, he used a goat track to bypass the Dornish watchtowers on the Boneway." - Jon IV, ADWD

I don't know. It involved knights from the Vale, so it made me pause.

+.+.+

Lord Nestor was showing Lady Waxley his prize tapestries, with their scenes of hunt and chase. The same panels had once hung in the Red Keep of King's Landing, when Robert sat the Iron Throne. Joffrey had them taken down and they had languished in some cellar until Petyr Baelish arranged for them to be brought to the Vale as a gift for Nestor Royce. Not only were the hangings beautiful, but the High Steward delighted in telling anyone who'd listen that they had once belonged to a king.

It's the conclusion of the most anticlimactic side plot in the entire series.

"Not as yet. In truth, he seems quite unconcerned. His last letter mentions the rebels only briefly before beseeching me to ship him some old tapestries of Robert's." - Cersei IV, AFFC

x

Petyr laughed. "Perhaps I shall. Or better still, to our sweet Cersei. Though I should not speak harshly of her, she is sending me some splendid tapestries. Isn't that kind of her?" - Alayne I, AFFC

This is nothing. It's only meant to showcase how Littlefinger purchases the loyalty of others.

+.+.+

At the north end of the yard, three quintains had been set up, and some of the competitors were riding at them. Alayne knew them by their shields; the bells of Belmore, green vipers for the Lynderlys, the red sledge of Breakstone, House Tollett’s black and grey pily. Ser Mychel Redfort set one quintain spinning with a perfectly placed blow. He was one of those favored to win wings.

Showing off, as per usual. She's only doing this to make Arya look bad.

+.+.+

"The Lord Protector's daughter," the bald knight announced, all hearty gallantry. He rose ponderously. "And full as lovely as the tales told of her, I see." Not to be outdone, the pimply knight hopped up and said, "Ser Ossifer speaks truly, you are the most beautiful maid in all the Seven Kingdoms." It might have been a sweeter courtesy had he not addressed it to her chest. "And have you seen all those maids yourself, ser?" Alayne asked him. "You are young to be so widely travelled."

"You are even lovelier than I was told, princess," he declared. "The queen has told me much and more of your beauty."

"How odd, when she has never seen me." - Jon XI, ADWD

+.+.+

Alayne could not help but shutter. Myranda's husband had died when he was making love with her. "Those Sistermen who came in yesterday were gallant," she said, to change the subject. "If you don't like Ser Ossifer or Ser Uther, marry one of them instead. I thought the youngest one was very handsome." "The one in the sealskin cloak?" Randa said, incredulous. "One of his brothers, then." Myranda rolled her eyes. "They're from the Sisters. Did you ever know a Sisterman who could joust? They clean their swords with codfish oil and wash in tubs of cold seawater." “Well,” Alayne said, “at least they're clean.”

"Some of them have webs between their toes. [...]"

Uh huh.

Listen to me. Listen to me.

You know why this is here.

Davos: I:

Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

Remind me, what did we learn in Davos I?

To get home and call his banners, Stark had to cross the mountains to the Fingers and find a fisherman to carry him across the Bite. A storm caught them on the way. The fisherman drowned, but his daughter got Stark to the Sisters before the boat went down.

[...]

Our maester urged us to send Stark's head to Aerys, to prove our loyalty. It would have meant a rich reward.

[...]

That was when Stark said, 'In this world only winter is certain. We may lose our heads, it's true … but what if we prevail?' My father sent him on his way with his head still on his shoulders. 'If you lose,' he told Lord Eddard, 'you were never here.'" - Davos I, ADWD

Right, exactly. Go ahead and remind us of the Three Sisters in a Sansa chapter, George. Nobody can figure out where this is going.

+.+.+

"Some of them have webs between their toes. I'd sooner marry Lord Petyr. Then I'd be your mother. How little is his finger, I ask you?"

Alayne did not dignify that question with an answer.

Totally normal thing you might ask his daughter.

+.+.+

"Is that a promise or a threat?" Myranda said. "The first Lady Waynwood must have been a mare, I think. How else to explain why all the Waynwood men are horse-faced? If I were ever to wed a Waynwood, he would have to swear a vow to don his helm whenever he wished to fuck me, and keep the visor closed." She gave Alayne a pinch on the arm.

Um, I have a theory!

"No," Catelyn agreed. "You must name another heir, until such time as Jeyne gives you a son." She considered a moment. "Your father's father had no siblings, but his father had a sister who married a younger son of Lord Raymar Royce, of the junior branch. They had three daughters, all of whom wed Vale lordlings. A Waynwood and a Corbray, for certain. The youngest . . . it might have been a Templeton, but . . ." - Catelyn V, ASOS

+.+.+

"My Harry will be with them, though. I notice that you left him out. I shall never forgive you for stealing him away from me. He's the boy I want to marry."

"The betrothal was my father's doing," Alayne protested, as she had a hundred times before. She is only teasing, she told herself… but behind the japes, she could hear the hurt.

We can't be certain, but she doesn't give off the same vibes as the other Myranda on the show.

+.+.+

Alayne could not see the front of his shield from where she stood, but his attacker bore three ravens in flight, each clutching a red heart in its claws. Three hearts and three ravens. She knew right then how the fight would end. A few moments later and the big man sprawled dazed in the dust with his helm askew. When his squire undid the fastenings to bare his head, there was blood trickling down his scalp. If the swords had not been blunted, there would be brains as well. That last head blow had been so hard Alayne had winced in sympathy when it fell. Myranda Royce considered the victor thoughtfully. "Do you think if I asked nicely Ser Lyn would kill my suitors for me?" "He might, for a plump bag of gold." Ser Lyn Corbray was forever desperately short of coin, all the Vale knew that.

Based on my powerful foresight, I predict that Lyn Corbray will exhibit violent tendencies in the future, possibly while utilizing his Valyrian steel sword.

Don't ask me who the victim will be.

+.+.+

There is truth in that, Alayne thought, but some demon of mischief was in her that morning, so she gave Ser Lyn a thrust of her own. Smiling sweetly, she said, "My lord father tells me your brother's new wife is with child." Corbray gave her a dark look. "Lyonel sends his regrets. He remains at Heart's Home with his peddler's daughter, watching her belly swell as if he were the first man who ever got a wench pregnant." Oh, that's an open wound, thought Alayne. Lyonel Corbray's first wife had given him nothing but a frail, sickly babe who died in infancy, and during all those years Ser Lyn had remained his brother's heir. When the poor woman finally died, however, Petyr Baelish had stepped in and brokered a new marriage for Lord Corbray. The second Lady Corbray was sixteen, the daughter of a wealthy Gulltown merchant, but she had come with an immense dowry, and men said she was a tall, strapping, healthy girl, with big breasts and good, wide hips. And fertile too, it seems. "We are all praying that the Mother grants Lady Corbray an easy labor and a healthy child," said Myranda. Alayne could not help herself. She smiled and said, "My father is always pleased to be of service to one of Lord Robert's leal bannermen. I'm sure he would be most delighted to help broker a marriage for you as well, Ser Lyn." "How kind of him." Corbray's lips drew back in something that might have been meant as a smile, though it gave Alayne a chill. "But what need have I for heirs when I am landless and like to remain so, thanks to our Lord Protector? No. Tell your lord father I need none of his brood mares." The venom in his voice was so thick that for a moment she almost forgot that Lyn Corbray was actually her father's catspaw, bought and paid for. Or was he? Perhaps, instead of being Petyr's man pretending to be Petyr's foe, he was actually his foe pretending to be his man pretending to be his foe.

Uh oh, Nostradamus senses something. There she goes leaking the plot again!

The king's own fool, the pie-faced simpleton called Moon Boy, danced about on stilts, all in motley, making mock of everyone with such deft cruelty that Sansa wondered if he was simple after all. - Sansa II, AGOT

x

Sansa shuddered. Every time she looked at Ser Ilyn Payne, she shivered. - Sansa III, AGOT

x

Varys was wringing his soft hands together, Grand Maester Pycelle kept his sleepy eyes on the papers in front of him, but she could feel Littlefinger staring. Something about the way the small man looked at her made Sansa feel as though she had no clothes on. Goose bumps pimpled her skin. - Sansa IV, AGOT

x

For his sigil he had taken a bloody spear, gold on a night-black field. The sight of it raised goose prickles up and down Sansa's arms. - Sansa V, AGOT

x

Ser Boros was short-tempered, Ser Meryn cold, and Ser Mandon's strange dead eyes made her uneasy - Sansa I, ACOK

x

"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 V, ACOK

x

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. - Sansa VIII, ACOK

x

Yet the more she thought about it all, the more she wondered. Joff might restrain himself for a few turns, perhaps as long as a year, but soon or late he will show his claws, and when he does . . . The realm might have a second Kingslayer, and there would be war inside the city, as the men of the lion and the men of the rose made the gutters run red. - Sansa I, ASOS

Believe in Sansa. The bottom line is that Lyn Corbray is a problem, and he's not as loyal to Littlefinger as Littlefinger thinks. Where this goes, I couldn't tell you.

(I desperately wanted to highlight every instance of Daenerys incorrectly reading someone, but I chose to be an adult.)

+.+.+

Alayne turned abruptly from the yard… and bumped into a short, sharp-faced man with a brush of orange hair who had come up behind her. His hand shot out and caught her arm before she could fall. "My lady. My pardons if I took you unawares." "The fault was mine. I did not see you standing there." "We mice are quiet creatures." Ser Shadrich was so short that he might have been taken for a squire, but his face belonged to a much older man. She saw long leagues in the wrinkles at the corner of his mouth, old battles in the scar beneath his ear, and a hardness behind the eyes that no boy would ever have. This was a man grown. Even Randa overtopped him, though. "Will you be seeking wings?" the Royce girl said. "A mouse with wings would be a silly sight." "Perhaps you will try the melee instead?" Alayne suggested. The melee was an afterthought, a sop for all the brothers, uncles, fathers, and friends who had accompanied the competitors to the Gates of the Moon to see them win their silver wings, but there would be prizes for the champions, and a chance to win ransoms. "A good melee is all a hedge knight can hope for, unless he stumbles on a bag of dragons. And that's not likely, is it?"

Speaking of problems.

You know who Varys is, I trust? The eunuch has offered a plump bag of gold for this girl you've never heard of. I am not a greedy man. If some oversized wench would help me find this naughty child, I would split the Spider's coin with her. - Brienne I, AFFC

The following is speculative, but also highly rational in my opinion.

It would be incredibly illogical for the author to introduce Ser Shadrich in Brienne's first chapter, reveal his objective to the reader, have him show up in the Vale near the same book's conclusion, clearly signal to the reader that he's correctly identified Sansa, and then proceed to not utilize him in any meaningful way. This is not what a red herring looks like.

There's probably a reason why Brienne's been gifted the knowledge of his appearance, and his objective. Brienne may not know what Alayne looks like, but she does know what Ser Shadrich looks like.

There's probably a reason why Brienne gauges both of their fighting skills while anticipating a potential encounter. (Come on.)

The Mad Mouse, she thought, at her first sight of him. Somehow he's followed me. Her hand went to her sword hilt, and she found herself wondering if Ser Shadrich would think her easy prey just because she was a woman. [...] If it was Ser Shadrich dogging her heels, she might well have a fight on her hands. She did not intend to partner with the man or let him follow her to Sansa. He had the sort of easy arrogance that comes with skill at arms, she thought, but he was small. I'll have the reach on him, and I should be stronger too. - Brienne II, AFFC

We watched Brienne intercept a Stark daughter three different times on the show.

None of these scenes can happen in the books, but we already know the show creators drew inspiration from canon events, and assigned different characters to the roles.

They gave the role of Biter to the Hound and made Brienne fight him, do you not think it's also possible one of these scenes is inspired by Brienne intercepting Shadrich and Sansa in the books?

"But Brienne's currently captured by Lady Stoneheart near Pennytree, and has a broken arm and face!"

Sansa's 👏 and 👏 Brienne's 👏 storylines 👏 aren't 👏 synchronized.

He told us what Brienne would do! He told us!

The Eyrie would be simpler, and Lady Lysa would surely welcome her sister's daughter . . .

Ahead, the alley bent. Somehow Brienne had taken a wrong turn. She found herself in a dead end, a small muddy yard where three pigs were rooting round a low stone well.

[...]

"I was looking for the Seven Swords."

"Back the way you come. Left at the sept."

"I thank you." Brienne turned to retrace her steps, and walked headfirst into someone hurrying round the bend. - Brienne II, AFFC

Brienne 👏 will 👏 escape! She'll 👏 turn 👏 back!

+.+.+

They made a race of it, dashing headlong across the yard and past the stables, skirts flapping, whilst knights and serving men alike looked on, and pigs and chickens scattered before them. It was most unladylike, but Alayne sound found herself laughing. For just a little while, as she ran, she forget who she was, and where, and found herself remembering bright cold days at Winterfell, when she would race through Winterfell with her friend Jeyne Poole, with Arya running after them trying to keep up.

Always nice seeing her act her age.

+.+.+

Harry the Heir, Alayne thought. My husband-to-be, if he will have me. A sudden terror filled her. She wondered if her face was red. Don't stare at him, she reminded herself, don't stare, don't gape, don't gawk. Look away. Her hair must be a frightful mess after all that running. It took all her will to stop herself from trying to tuck the loose strands back into place. Never mind your stupid hair. Your hair doesn't matter. It's him that matters. Him, and the Waynwoods. Ser Roland was the oldest of the three, though no more than five-and-twenty. He was taller and more muscular than Ser Wallace, but both were long-faced and lantern-jawed, with stringy brown hair and pinched noses. Horsefaced and homely, Alayne thought. Harry, though… My Harry. My lord, my lover, my betrothed.Ser Harrold Hardyng looked every inch a lord-in-waiting; clean-limbed and handsome, straight as a lance, hard with muscle. Men old enough to have known Jon Arryn in his youth said Ser Harrold had his look, she knew. He had a mop of sandy blond hair, pale blue eyes, an aquiline nose. Joffrey was comely too, though, she reminded herself. A comely monster, that’s what he was. Little Lord Tyrion was kinder, twisted though he was.

Wow, how much do you love that?

Sansa directly compares the horse-faced Waynwoods, who have Stark lineage and were once potential heirs to Robb, to the more attractive Harry Hardyng (aka Joffrey).

I'm sorry, you have to see this:

Un-fucking-real. So close. They're always so close.

Yeah guys, why isn't she thinking about Arya? It's obvious we're supposed to be thinking about Arya during this passage. The author's intentions here are clear, the subtext is Arya. Sansa comparing these Stark-ish, likable Waynwood men to the comely yet rude Harry the Heir is totally about Arya. Arya's written all over this. We're so clever to see it.

Side note,

Joffrey was comely too, though, she reminded herself. A comely monster, that's what he was.

x

"Beauty can be treacherous. My brother learned that lesson from Cersei Lannister. [...]." - Jon XI, ASOS

Love when my babies both learn about beauty's hidden dangers!

+.+.+

"I look forward to a spirited discussion." Ser Roland swung down from his horse, turned to Alayne, and smiled. "I had heard that Lord Littlefinger's daughter was fair of face and full of grace, but no one ever told me that she was a thief." "You wrong me, ser. I am no thief!" Ser Roland placed his hand over his heart. "Then how do you explain this hole in my chest, from where you stole my heart?"

Man, these horsey Waynwoods are crushing hard on Sansa. hehehehe.

Instead, he blamed Jon Snow and wondered when Jon's heart had turned to stone. - Samwell III, AFFC

+.+.+

"You are in the Falcon Tower, Ser Harrold," Alayne put in. Far away from Sweetrobin. That was intentional, she knew. Petyr Baelish did not leave such things to chance. "If it please you, I will show you to your chambers myself." This time her eyes met Harry's. She smiled just for him, and said a silent prayer to the Maiden. Please, he doesn't need to love me, just make him like me, just a little, that would be enough for now. Ser Harrold looked down at her coldly. "Why should it please me to be escorted anywhere by Littlefinger's bastard?"

+.+.+

A lady's armor is her courtesy. Alayne could feel the blood rushing to her face. No tears, she prayed. Please, please, I must not cry. "As you wish, ser. And now if you will excuse me, Littlefinger's bastard must find her lord father and let him know that you have come, so we can begin the tourney on the morrow." And may your horse stumble, Harry the Heir, so you fall on your stupid head in your first tilt. She showed the Waynwoods a stone face as they blurted out awkward apologies for their companion. When they were done she turned and fled. Near the keep, she ran headlong into Ser Lothor Brune and almost knocked him off his feet. "Harry the Heir? Harry the Arse, I say. He's just some upjumped squire." Alayne was so grateful that she hugged him. "Thank you. Have you seen my father, ser?"

Oopsie daisy, Nostradamus has returned.

The most terrifying moment of the day came during Ser Gregor's second joust, when his lance rode up and struck a young knight from the Vale under the gorget with such force that it drove through his throat, killing him instantly. The youth fell not ten feet from where Sansa was seated. The point of Ser Gregor's lance had snapped off in his neck, and his life's blood flowed out in slow pulses, each weaker than the one before. His armor was shiny new; a bright streak of fire ran down his outstretched arm, as the steel caught the light. Then the sun went behind a cloud, and it was gone. His cloak was blue, the color of the sky on a clear summer's day, trimmed with a border of crescent moons, but as his blood seeped into it, the cloth darkened and the moons turned red, one by one. - Sansa II, AGOT

x

"Look at that upjumped oaf," Joff hooted, loud enough for half the yard to hear.

[...]

I hope he falls and shames himself, she thought bitterly. I hope Ser Balon kills him. When Joffrey proclaimed her father's death, it had been Janos Slynt who seized Lord Eddard's severed head by the hair and raised it on high for king and crowd to behold, while Sansa wept and screamed.

Morros dropped his lance, fought for balance, and lost. One foot caught in a stirrup as he fell, and the runaway charger dragged the youth to the end of the lists, head bouncing against the ground. Joff hooted derision. Sansa was appalled, wondering if the gods had heard her vengeful prayer. - Sansa I, ACOK

x

At the last possible instant, Ser Humfrey's [Hardyng] stallion reared away from the oncoming point, eyes rolling in terror, but too late, Aerion's lance took the animal just above the armor that protected his breastbone, and exploded out of the back of his neck in a gout of bright blood. Screaming, the horse crashed sideways, knocking the wooden barrier to pieces as he fell. Ser Humfrey [Hardyng] tried to leap free, but a foot caught in a stirrup and they heard his shriek as his leg was crushed between the splintered fence and falling horse. - The Hedge Knight

A knight from the Vale.

Correctly predicting it will happen to an upjumped oaf.

A Hardyng.

There are two certainties in this life: death and Harrold Hardyng falling off his horse. (Plenty of people don't pay their taxes.)

+.+.+

The vaults were large and dark and filthy. Alayne lit a taper and clutched her skirt as she made the descent. Near the bottom, she heard Lord Grafton's booming voice, and followed. "The merchants are clamoring to buy, and the lords are clamoring to sell," the Gulltowner was saying when she found them. Though not a tall man, Grafton was wide, with thick arms and shoulders. His hair was a dirty blond mop. "How am I to stop that, my lord?" "Post guardsmen on the docks. If need be, seize the ships. How does not matter, so long as no food leaves the Vale." "These prices, though," protested fat Lord Belmore," these prices are more than fair." "You say more than fair, my lord. I say less than we would wish. Wait. If need be, buy the food yourself and keep it stored. Winter is coming. Prices must go higher." "Perhaps," said Belmore, doubtfully. "Bronze Yohn will not wait," Grafton complained. "He need not ship through Gulltown, he has his own ports. Whilst we are hoarding our harvest, Royce and the other Lords Declarant will turn theirs into silver, you may be sure of that."

I smell converging storylines!

Our best hope may be the Eyrie. The Vale of Arryn was famously fertile and had gone untouched during the fighting. Jon wondered how Lady Catelyn's sister would feel about feeding Ned Stark's bastard. - Jon IV, ADWD

Someone cut Littlefinger's head off, so everyone can eat.

Anyway, there's more Gulltown. Gulltown, Gulltown, Gulltown!

She might do better to take ship for Gulltown or White Harbor. I could do both, though. - Brienne II, AFFC

x

If the Stinking Goose yields nothing, I will take passage on a ship, she decided. Gulltown was only a short voyage away. From there she could make her way to the Eyrie easily enough. - Brienne III, AFFC

x

"Gulltown next," her captain told her, "thence around the Fingers to Sisterton and White Harbor, if the storms allow. She's a clean ship, 'Strider, not so many rats as most, and we'll have fresh eggs and new-churned butter aboard. Is m'lady seeking passage north?"

"No." Not yet. She was tempted, but . . . - Brienne V, AFFC

NOT YET. NOT YET! GULLTOWN -> SISTERTON -> WHITE HARBOR. HE TOLD US. HE FORESHADOWS EVERYTHING. IT'S RIGHT THERE.

+.+.+

"And is Ser Harrold with them?" Horrible Ser Harrold. "He is." Lord Belmore laughed. "I never thought Royce would let him come. Is he blind, or merely stupid?" "He is honorable. Sometimes it amounts to the same thing. If he denied the lad the chance to prove himself, it could create a rift between them, so why not let him tilt? The boy is nowise skilled enough to win a place amongst the Winged Knights."

Gosh, since his introduction, it seems like we've been constantly reminded that this upjumped squire is rather inept when it comes to sports.

"Our cousin Bronze Yohn had himself a mêlée at Runestone," Myranda Royce went on, oblivious, "a small one, just for squires. It was meant for Harry the Heir to win the honors, and so he did." - Alayne II, AFFC

+.+.+

"Come," Petyr said, "walk with me." He took her by the arm and led her deeper into the vaults, past an empty dungeon.

I will cut your eyelids off.

+.+.+

"Yes," she said, "but why must he be so cruel? He called me your bastard. Right in the yard, in front of everyone." "So far as he knows, that's who you are. This betrothal was never his idea, and Bronze Yohn has no doubt warned him against my wiles. You are my daughter. He does not trust you, and he believes that you're beneath him." "Well, I'm not. He may think he's some great knight, but Ser Lothor says he's just some upjumped squire."

Sansa's acquiring a new perspective through experiential learning: understanding the bastard experience. Aww. <3

+.+.+

Petyr put his arm around her. "So he is, but he is Robert's heir as well. Bringing Harry here was the first step in our plan, but now we need to keep him, and only you can do that. He has a weakness for a pretty face, and whose face is prettier than yours? Charm him. Entrance him. Bewitch him."

Getting to the good stuff.

I'll tell you one thing, I have more faith in Sansa successfully accomplishing this than 6-year-old Alys Karstark.

(-> -> -> Jon X?)

"It is my own fault. My lord father told me I must charm your brother Robb, but I was only six and didn't know how."

Aye, but now you're almost six-and-ten, and we must pray you will know how to charm your new husband. - Jon X, ADWD

I've said it a million times in other Sansa chapters, so I won't elaborate, but if you truly believe Littlefinger's plan is to wed Catelyn 2.0 to imitation Brandon Stark, you might be out of your mind.

Petyr put his arm around her.

I will pluck every hair from your head, and genitals.

+.+.+

"I don't know how," she said miserably. "Oh, I think you do," said Littlefinger, with one of those smiles that did not reach his eyes.

Excluding the instance where she copied Harry's words, that is the only time she calls him Littlefinger in this chapter.

She hasn't forgotten.

+.+.+

"You will be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight, as lovely as your lady mother at your age. I cannot seat you on the dais, but you'll have a place of honor above the salt and underneath a wall sconce. The fire will be shining in your hair, so everyone will see how fair of face you are. Keep a good long spoon on hand to beat the squires off, sweetling. You will not want green boys underfoot when the knights come round to beg you for your favor." "Who would ask to wear a bastard's favor?"

"Harry, if he has the wits the gods gave a goose… but do not give it to him. Choose some other gallant, and favor him instead. You do not want to seem too eager."

I'd be hesitant to allow fire to shine in Sansa's hair.

This feels like a developing story. I'd love to know who is getting this favor if it's not Harry the Arse.

He had worn her favor in the Battle of the Blackwater, where he'd slain a Myrish crossbowman and a Mullendore man-at-arms. "Alyn said her favor made him fearless," said Megga. "He says he shouted her name for his battle cry, isn't that ever so gallant? Someday I want some champion to wear my favor, and kill a hundred men." - Sansa II, ASOS

x

"Saving yourself for Lord Robert?" Lady Myranda teased. "Or is there some ardent squire dreaming of your favors?" - Alayne II, AFFC

x

Edmure escorted her up the water stair and across the lower bailey, where Petyr Baelish and Brandon Stark had once crossed swords for her favor.  - Catelyn XI, AGOT

+.+.+

"Lady Waynwood will insist that Harry dance with you, I can promise you that much. That will be your chance. Smile at the boy. Touch him when you speak. Tease him, to pique his pride. If he seems to be responding, tell him that you are feeling faint, and ask him to take you outside for a breath of fresh air. No knight could refuse such a request from a fair maiden."

The above won't happen, but in her next chapter, I'll be super on edge whenever she's exposed and there aren't many people around.

+.+.+

Petyr drew her close and kissed her on both cheeks. "The night belongs to you, sweetling, Remember that, always."

I will make you deepthroat a cactus.

+.+.+

The feast proved to be everything her father promised. Sixty-four dishes were served, in honor of the sixty-four competitors who had come so far to contest for silver wings before their lord. From the rivers and the lakes came pike and trout and salmon, from the seas crabs and cod and herring. Ducks there were, and capons, peacocks in their plumage and swans in almond milk. Suckling pigs were served up crackling with apples in their mouths, and three huge aurochs were roasted whole above firepits in the castle yard, since they were too big to get through the kitchen doors. Loaves of hot bread filled the trestle tables in Lord Nestor's hall, and massive wheels of cheese were brought up from the vaults. The butter was fresh-churned, and there were leeks and carrots, roasted onions, beets, turnips, parsnips. And best of all, Lord Nestor's cooks prepared a splendid subtlety, a lemon cake in the shape of the Giant's Lance, twelve feet tall and adorned with an Eyrie made of sugar. For me, Alayne thought, as they wheeled it out. Sweetrobin loved lemon cakes too, but only after she told him that they were her favorites. The cake had required every lemon in the Vale, but Petyr had promised that he would send to Dorne for more.

A splendid subtlety, lol.

Nice, Littlefinger gifted her a giant penis. I wonder if the ones from Dorne taste any better. (I'm sorry.)

Look, it's a feast!

(-> -> -> Jon X?)

The stewards began to bring out the first dish, an onion broth flavored with bits of goat and carrot. Not precisely royal fare, but nourishing; it tasted good enough and warmed the belly. Owen the Oaf took up his fiddle, and several of the free folk joined in with pipes and drums. The same pipes and drums they played to sound Mance Rayder's attack upon the Wall. Jon thought they sounded sweeter now. With the broth came loaves of coarse brown bread, warm from the oven. Salt and butter sat upon the tables. - Jon X, ADWD

+.+.+

When the last course had been served and cleared, the tables were lifted from their trestles to clear the floor for dancing, and musicians were brought in.

[...] "As am I," Coldwater said. Rising, he offered Alayne his hand. "Would you honor me with this dance, my lady?" "You're very kind," she said, as he led her to the floor. He was her first partner of the evening, but far from the last. Just as Petyr had promised, the young knights flocked around her, vying for her favor. After Ben came Andrew Tollett, handsome Ser Byron, red-nosed Ser Morgarth, and Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse. Then Ser Albar Royce, Myranda's stout dull brother and Lord Nestor's heir. She danced with all three Sunderlands, none of whom had webs between their fingers, though she could not vouch for their toes. Uther Shett appeared to pay her slimy compliments as he trod upon her feet, but Ser Targon the Halfwild proved to be the soul of courtesy. After that Ser Roland Waynwood swept her up and made her laugh with mocking comments about half the other knights in the hall. His uncle Wallace took a turn as well and tried to do the same, but the words would not come. Alayne finally took pity on him and began to chatter happily, to spare him the embarrassment. When the dance was done she excused herself, and went back to her place to have a drink of wine.

Oh my goodness, they're dancing! Ser Jon Waynwood sounds like a hoot.

(-> -> -> Jon X?)

The queen's men outnumbered the queen's ladies three to one, so even the humblest serving girls were pressed into the dance. After a few songs some black brothers remembered skills learned at the courts and castles of their youth, before their sins had sent them to the Wall, and took the floor as well. That old rogue Ulmer of the Kingswood proved as adept at dancing as he was at archery, no doubt regaling his partners with his tales of the Kingswood Brotherhood, when he rode with Simon Toyne and Big Belly Ben and helped Wenda the White Fawn burn her mark in the buttocks of her highborn captives. Satin was all grace, dancing with three serving girls in turn but never presuming to approach a highborn lady. 

[...]

"You could dance with me, you know. It would be only courteous. You danced with me anon."

"Anon?" teased Jon.

"When we were children." She tore off a bit of bread and threw it at him. "As you know well."

"My lady should dance with her husband." - Jon X, ADWD

Dance with me, Jon Snow! You'll dance with me anon.

Don't be offended Alys, you're not the right partner.

When the musicians began to play, she timidly laid her hand on Tyrion's and said, "My lord, should we lead the dance?"

His mouth twisted. "I think we have already given them sufficent amusement for one day, don't you?" - Sansa III, ASOS

And neither was he.

I won't get too deep into each dance partner, because this post is long enough, but I'm sure you can see there's more than a few allusions to Jon (Coldwater, Tollett, Ser Byron, Royce, etc.).

Read more here:

Allusions to Jon in The Dance Partners of TWOW, Alayne I (@cappymightwrite)

+.+.+

And there he stood, Harry the Heir himself; tall, handsome, scowling. "Lady Alayne. May I partner you in this dance?" She considered for a moment. "No. I don't think so." Color rose to his cheeks. "I was unforgivably rude to you in the yard. You must forgive me." "Must?" She tossed her hair, took a sip of wine, made him wait. "How can you forgive someone who is unforgivably rude? Will you explain that to me, ser?" Ser Harrold looked confused. "Please. One dance."

Charm him. Entrance him. Bewitch him. "If you insist."

Boo, hiss. Wrong dance partner!

She'll talk circles around you if you let her.

+.+.+

He nodded, offered his arm, led her out onto the floor. As they waited for the music to resume, Alayne glanced at the dais, where Lord Robert sat staring at them. Please, she prayed, don’t let him start to twitch and shake. Not here. Not now. Maester Coleman would have made certain that he drank a strong dose of sweetmilk before the feast, but even so.

Oh good, the doctor who keeps tempting fate is back.

Just give him a cup of the sweetmilk before we go, and another at the feast, and there should be no trouble."

"Very well." They paused at the foot of the stairs. "But this must be the last. For half a year, or longer." - Alayne II, AFFC

+.+.+

Instead she said, "I have heard that you are about to be a father." It was not something most girls would say to their almost-betrothed, but she wanted to see if Ser Harrold would lie. "For the second time. My daughter Alys is two years old."

Your bastard daughter Alys, Alayne thought, but what she said was, "That one had a different mother, though."

What a totally unique name we've given this kid!

(-> -> -> Jon X?)

Jon turned to Alys Karstark. "My lady. Are you ready?" - Jon X, ADWD

Did I say he's Brandon Stark? I meant Brandon Stark with a little hint of Robert Baratheon.

+.+.+

"Yes. Cissy was a pretty thing when I tumbled her, but childbirth left her as fat as a cow, so Lady Anya arranged for her to marry one of her men-at-arms. It is different with Saffron." "Saffron?" Alayne tried not to laugh. "Truly?" Ser Harrold had the grace to blush. "Her father says she is more precious to him than gold. He's rich, the richest man in Gulltown. A fortune in spices." "What will you name the babe?" she asked. "Cinnamon if she's a girl? Cloves if he's a boy?"

That roast is worthy of applause.

Fun words are everywhere!

(-> -> -> Jon X?)

"Hobb's mulled some wine with cinnamon and cloves. That'll warm us some."

"What's cloves?" asked Owen the Oaf. - Jon X, ADWD

+.+.+

"Saffron is very beautiful, I'll have you know. Tall and slim, with big brown eyes and hair like honey." Alayne raised her head. "More beautiful than me?" Ser Harrold studied her face. "You are comely enough, I grant you. When Lady Anya first told me of this match, I was afraid that you might look like your father." "Little pointy beard and all?" Alayne laughed. "I never meant..." "I hope you joust better than you talk."

I am extremely confident he does not.

Are tall girls with honey in their hair his type? Too bad.

+.+.+

For a moment he looked shocked. But as the song was ending, he burst into a laugh. "No one told me you were clever."

✨ Clever girl! ✨

Melisandre closed her eyes, remembering. "West."

"She is not coming up the kingsroad, then. Clever girl. [...]" - Melisandre I, ADWD

+.+.+

He has good teeth, she thought, straight and white. And when he smiles, he has the nicest dimples. She ran one finger down his cheek. "Should we ever wed, you'll have to send Saffron back to her father. I'll be all the spice you'll want." He grinned. "I will hold you to that promise, my lady. Until that day, may I wear your favor in the tourney?" "You may not. It is promised to… another." She was not sure who as yet, but she knew she would find someone.

Before I get to the last bit, can I tell you something?

I read a sizeable amount of fandom commentary on this chapter, and not one single person contemplated who she's saving her favor for. It didn't come up once.

People are either deliberately avoiding asking themselves that question, or they believe the ending of this chapter is insignificant, and the topic won't resurface again. I'm not sure which one annoys me more.

+.+.+

"You may not. It is promised to… another." She was not sure who as yet, but she knew she would find someone.

Now turn the page.

(-> -> -> Jon X?)

It's the Alys Karstark x Sigorn wedding chapter! Yay.

Interestingly, in the first few pages of that chapter, the author intentionally creates an initial impression that it's Jon Snow who is marrying Alys Karstark. Curious, isn't it?

Let's discuss what we know about the bride, who the author led us to believe Jon Snow was marrying.

According to the fandom, Alys Karstark is Jon Snow's girl in grey. Small problem with that, she never wears grey, and never travels near a body of water to get to Castle Black.

"I saw water. Deep and blue and still, with a thin coat of ice just forming on it. It seemed to go on and on forever."

"Long Lake. What else did you see around this girl?" - Melisandre I, ADWD

However, she was fleeing from a forced marriage. Her great-uncle has assumed the role of Lord of Karhold, and made her a match, despite lacking any rightful claim to the land or castle.

Your uncle … would that be Lord Arnolf?" "He is no lord," Alys said scornfully. [...] Uncle Arnolf is only castellan. - Jon IX, ADWD

↓

"Lysa was murdered before the document could be presented for her signature, so I signed as Lord Protector. I knew that would have been her wish." - Sansa I, AFFC

The marriage is to her uncle, Cregan Karstark. Sorry, I should clarify this uncle isn't actually her uncle, it's just what they call him.

He's my great-uncle, actually, my father's uncle. Cregan is his son. I suppose that makes him a cousin, but we always called him uncle. Now they mean to make me call him husband. - Jon IX, ADWD

↓

"Wed?" Sansa was stunned. "You and my aunt?" - Sansa VI, ASOS

x

"I am Alayne, Father. Who else would I be?" - Sansa I, AFFC

Perhaps you're wondering how we arrived at this point. Long ago, Alys' father desired her to marry the future Lord of Winterfell. Unfortunately, at that time, she was too young to captivate him with her charm.

"It is my own fault. My lord father told me I must charm your brother Robb, but I was only six and didn't know how." - Jon X, ADWD

↓

Charm him. Entrance him. Bewitch him. "If you insist." - Alayne I, TWOW

Instead, she was betrothed to Daryn Hornwood, and they were patiently awaiting her coming of age.

Before the war I was betrothed to Daryn Hornwood. We were only waiting till I flowered to be wed - Jon IX, ADWD

↓

If they do that … why, then we shall know that there is no taint in your blood, and when you come into the flower of your womanhood, you shall wed the king in the Great Sept of Baelor, before the eyes of gods and men. - Sansa IV, AGOT

Sadly, Daryn Hornwood died in the war. Rickard Karstark was forced to find her another lord to marry.

My father wrote that he would find some southron lord to wed me, but he never did. - Jon IX, ADWD

↓

When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. - Sansa III, AGOT

Of course all that went to shit when Rickard Karstark got his head cut off.

Your brother Robb cut off his head for killing Lannisters. - Jon IX, ADWD

↓

"But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!" - Arya V, AGOT

Now, it's worth mentioning that Alys' older brother Harrion is the rightful heir to Karhold. However, if he were to die, Alys would inherit Karhold, which ambitious men like her uncles are aware of.

Should my brother die, Karhold should pass to me, but my uncles want my birthright for their own. - Jon IX, ADWD

↓

"But he does not know you," Dontos insisted, "and he will not love you. Jonquil, Jonquil, open your sweet eyes, these Tyrells care nothing for you. It's your claim they mean to wed."

[...]

She never thought to have a claim, but with Bran and Rickon dead . . . It doesn't matter, there's still Robb, he's a man grown now, and soon he'll wed and have a son. - Sansa II, ASOS

x

"The man who weds Sansa Stark can claim Winterfell in her name," his uncle Kevan put in. "Had that not occurred to you?" - Tyrion IV, ASOS

x

"Winterfell has withstood fiercer enemies than me. It is Winterfell, is it not?"

"Yes," Sansa admitted.

He walked along outside the walls. "I used to dream of it, in those years after Cat went north with Eddard Stark. In my dreams it was ever a dark place, and cold." - Sansa VII, ASOS

Thankfully, most people in this story are familiar with the rules of succession.

If her brother is dead, Karhold belongs to Lady Alys. - Jon X, ADWD

↓

Jon said, "Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa." - Jon IV, ADWD

Hence, the arranged marriage. Enter Cregan Karstark, a dangerous man who covets her birthright. He has a dark history, having buried multiple wives, and he would no longer need Alys if she ever had his child.

Once Cregan gets a child by me they won't need me anymore. He's buried two wives already. - Jon IX, ADWD

↓

"Only Cat." He gave her a short, sharp shove.

Lysa stumbled backward, her feet slipping on the wet marble. - Sansa VII, ASOS

x

Arya's gone, the same as Bran and Rickon, and they'll kill Sansa too once the dwarf gets a child from her. - Catelyn V, ASOS

Fear not, for this story finds a happy ending. Before her not-uncle can get his hands on her, our hero Jon Snow intervenes and arranges a marriage between Alys and a wildling, ensuring her safety and happiness.

"So," said Alys, as Jon poured, "I am now a woman wed. A wildling husband with his own little wildling army." - Jon X, ADWD

↓

I see what you are, Snow. Half a wolf and half a wildling, baseborn get of a traitor and a whore. - Jon X, ADWD

The guy is such a white knight, he even daydreams of gifting her Cregan's head! (Thank you @that-plo-koon for that one.)

I should make his head a wedding gift for Lady Alys and her Magnar, Jon thought, but dare not take the risk. - Jon X, ADWD

↓

[...] wishing she could hurt him, wishing that some hero would throw him down and cut off his head. - Sansa VI, AGOT

x

"Tromp tromp I'm a giant, I'm a giant," he chanted. "Ho ho ho, open your gates or I'll mash them and smash them." - Sansa VII

[...]

A mad rage seized hold of her. She picked up a broken branch and smashed the torn doll's head down on top of it, then pushed it down atop the shattered gatehouse of her snow castle. The servants looked aghast, but when Littlefinger saw what she'd done he laughed. "If the tales be true, that's not the first giant to end up with his head on Winterfell's walls." - Sansa VII, ASOS

Isn't that a great story? Other than a few amusing nuggets, that mostly covers everything.

My brother Harry is the rightful lord - Jon IX, ADWD [Brother Harry]

↓

"Harry the Heir?" - Alayne II, AFFC [Father Harry]

x

Jon turned to Alys Karstark. "My lady. Are you ready?" - Jon X, ADWD [Sister Alys]

↓

Your bastard daughter Alys, Alayne thought - Alayne I, TWOW [Daughter Alys]

So that's Alys Karstark, the girl George had us believing Jon Snow was marrying, in a chapter likely intended to follow this one.

While we're on the topic of that Jon Snow fakeout wedding, can I tell you what my favourite passage was?

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. "Let him be scared of me." The snowflakes were melting on her cheeks, but her hair was wrapped in a swirl of lace that Satin had found somewhere, and the snow had begun to collect there, giving her a frosty crown. Her cheeks were flushed and red, and her eyes sparkled. - Jon X, ADWD

Ha ha ha! Me too, bud. I am also reminded of your little sister.

Boy, what a ride that was.

Final thoughts:

Fam,

WE DID IT!

I can't believe I finished.

-> return to menu <-

[greenmeanqueen]

Have you read operation Stumpy re-read? It's like a book club where her and other blogs read, analyze and comment the chapters of the entire novel!

ooooo thanks for the rec!! i think i’ve actually come across this before, and i really love and admire the work put into it.

[astradrifting]

Yet another ASOIAF re-read

So, encouraged by my chief enabler @istumpysk, I’m planning to do a re-read of ASOIAF, and post each chapter analysis here. I just started an exchange year abroad, so I can’t promise consistent updates, but I can guarantee that I will read entirely too much into every detail. Expect bad jokes and analysis of varying coherency and plausibility. Stumpy has also very kindly allowed me to use the same post format as Operation Stumpy Re-Read, with specific quotes inserted into the post for analysis, so these will probably end up quite long. I have no self-control.

Last update: AGOT - Arya I (Chapter 7)

AGOT:

Prologue / Bran I / Catelyn I / Daenerys I / Eddard I / Jon I / Catelyn II / Arya I

[cassette-taps]

i keep fucking seeing a sponsored/recommended post titled "Operation Stumpy Re-Read" and it is sending me into delirium

[sending-the-message]

Bad blood runs deep by IamHowardMoxley

I first saw my wife Sally during my last year of college, standing alone in the hall of oaks leading up to the oldest building of our university. She was thin, tall and pale. The wind played with her black waist-long hair. She was apart from everything I dared to know about this universe, like a legend that lives on in modern obscurity. It was impossible for me not to fall in love with Sally Ganes instantly.

  I stayed in love with her even after meeting her family. Each one of them had handshakes as hard and as cold as marble. They had the money to afford any jewelry they wanted, but they each wore an American “Indian” head nickel. Her sister wore one as necklace, her mother folded the nickel into a tennis bracelet, her aunt wore it woven along with the gold of an over sized broach pin. Even her father's right incisor was replaced with a tooth made from a 1935 nickel. I could read the date when we ate dinner. Each wore the coins proudly in their own fashion, openly and always against their flesh. I assumed it was another aristocratic fashion I didn't know.

  All the members of the Ganes family were slow to speak and move; it was as if some great force was hiding within Sally's parents, brother, sister, aunt and uncle, a force that weighed down each member of the Ganes family, making them seem as heavy and meticulous as industrial machines. They each spoke in monotone, thudding, inquisitor voices. Solid, unwavering voices. Ageless. As if Time itself worked for the Ganes family, and had no intentions on taking them anywhere.

  Each member of her immediate family had a mansion worth at least fifty million USD, all containing vast libraries packed all the way up to the 20' ceilings with of old vellum bound books and ancient bits of pottery, jewelry, weapons and musical instruments; it was as if even the Ganes's prodigious wealth struggled to contain everything they wished to keep from the world. I, on the other hand, was an arts student from a broke family. I honestly thought it wouldn't work- why would this beautiful, rich, talented girl want to be trapped with me? Why would her family ever approve of me? I feared these things all the way up until the wedding day. Then we were married. I kissed Sally in the oldest church in Rome. It will always be the happiest moment of my life.

  My wife picked the honeymoon spot, a secluded little harbor off the Pacific in Mexico, a vacation “loveshack”, a 3 bedroom, 5 bath McMansion on it's own paved road, behind a locked barbed wire fence and gate with it's own private beach. We unloaded the wine and champagne from her her Porsche SUV, turned on the house lights and checked our cell phones. No reception. The place did not have a landline or internet, but we both agreed that a complete disconnect from tech for a while was what we needed. We were popping open our first bottle of champagne when we heard the sound of multiple trucks driving up to our house.

  Groups of men in dirty jeans and beaters jumped out of dusty pickups holding assault rifles, men with track pants and button-down shirts, almost all of them wearing bandannas hiding their face, all of them armed. A short, muscular man with a stubble mustache was the last to get out of a white sedan. He smiled as he approached me, holding up 1 of 4 keys on the realtor’s give-away rubber keychan. His English was accented but good. I could tell he was used to calling the shots in both English and Spanish.

  “My cousin put in the gates in around this place, my brother re-did all the locks. Nice villa. Nice car. Nice...woman. But you trespassing, hombre. This our land, was always, always will be our land, no matter what American name's on the fucking mailbox.” The sound of a shotgun cocking came from one of the 20 or so men in the background.

  “So, as a fine...we'll take your your car. And your wife. We'll bring them both back, in 3 days. All the police around here are ALL right here, gringo. Nobody's gonna help you. There is no 911. You have no car, nowhere to go...and my boys will see you on the side of the road if you leave here. If they do-” the man produced a polished bowie blade with a razor edge and made a slow gutting motion, starting low and drawing upwards. “-understand, amigo? Don't put your beautiful little wife in danger. Stay here. If you don't, we have cells. We'll kill her. Before we kill you. Andele!”

  My wife stepped forward, holding out the keys to her Porsche, head down, silent. I want to say I said something, that I struggled, somehow. Anything other than admitting what I did, watching the love of my life being taken into the sedan by the leader, held firm by one huge meaty paw on her delicate arm while the others laughed. In less than a ten seconds, I was alone.

  I couldn't tell you in words the mix mixture of emotions I ran through. I spun around in panicked circles, not knowing what to do, feeling the most worthless and helpless I have ever been. I had no idea how I would survive 72 hours, let alone my wife.

  I didn't know what to think when I saw headlights driving back up to the beach house 6 hours later. It was Sally, driving her Porsche with a smug little smile. She hopped out of the SUV and gave me a long hug for what seemed to be MY sake. After a minute, before I could ask how she escaped or what she did, she gave me a loving squeeze and breathed into my ear: “give me a hand with the bodies in the back, dear.”

  Sally opened the tailgate hatch to her SUV and tossed the 2 wool blankets aside to show three men who came to our house stacked shoulder-to-shoulder. Sally was able to yank each body out of the SUV with ease while I struggled to even move one leg...I realized then that a woman who weighed barley more than 90 pounds was much more than what met the eye. By the light of the vehicle's dome and tail-lights, I saw the nickle jewelry Sally family wore on the bodies. The ring, the broach, the tennis bracelet, the ring. The short, muscular leader with the stubble mustache had his right incisor replaced with the same fake tooth Sally's father had.

  We worked quickly to place the 6 bodies face up on the ground behind the SUV. When the last one was yanked out, Sally jumped back as if she knew when the light of the nearly full moon would break from the clouds. When the silvery light fell on the corpses, the bits of metal flashed brightly and then died to their natural luster as soon as the moonlight touched them. I was about to speak when my wife put her finger on my lips. “Watch”.

  After the flash, the skins of the 6 bodies became hard and waxy, their faces inflating, detaching. The old bodies and clothes melded as one. They were becoming sarcophagi. The muscular leader's entire body crumbled away from the one tooth made from the nickle. A pair of lanky legs dressed in loafers and formal slacks burst from the stumpy legs of leader. Sally helped her mother hatch from body beside her husband's as I gave a hand to Sally's father a hand. He swept away a hard, waxy bit attached to his shoulder and gathered his family together...me included.

  Sally's mother broke the silence.

  “My new son...Sally's aim was only to rebirth herself through her husband...as is the custom of all women of the Ganes family. I took your young father to a hunting cabin near where two moonshiners were hiding from lawmen. I had my great aunt's nickle broach- I was able to rebirth myself and her that night. We Ganes take it as a sign of good fortune for how strong the marriage would be based upon...well. Enough talk. Six. All Six! All of us are reborn, tonight!”

  “-and I hid the other 15 away” Sally added. Her family stroked her face lovingly before they all turned to me. Sally's father cleared his throat before producing a small velvet box with sharp corners.

  “You did the right thing by not attempting to fight these men. Without the element of surprise, the Ganes do not have much of an upper-hand. This operation would not have gone as well as it did without your patience to allow Sally to operate. We now consider you part of our family. And as such...the family shall always be a part of you.”

  Sally's father opened the box. Inside was an orb, fashioned from an old nickle. It was a false eyeball.

[istumpysk]

Show me a funnier chapter transition.

"Wasn't there some princess too?" asked a whore. She was the same one who'd said the meat was grey.

"Two," said the old fellow. "One was Rhaegar's daughter, t'other was his sister."

"Daena," said the riverman. "That was the sister. Daena of Dragonstone. Or was it Daera?"

[…]

"Daenela," the proprietor said loudly. "That was her name. The Mad King's daughter, I mean, not Baelor's bloody wife." - Davos II, ADWD

↓ ↓ ↓ 

Ser Barristan went to one knee before her. "My queen, your realm has need of you. You are not wanted here, but in Westeros men will flock to your banners by the thousands, great lords and noble knights. 'She is come,' they will shout to one another, in glad voices. 'Prince Rhaegar's sister has come home at last.' " - Daenerys III, ADWD

You can't.

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

TWOW: Barristan I

Welcome back! What's worse than a battle chapter?

A Barristan Selmy battle chapter.

Through the gloom of night the dead men flew, raining down upon the city streets. The riper corpses would fall to pieces in the air, and burst when they came smashing down onto the bricks, scattering worms and maggots and worse things. Others would bounce against the sides of pyramids and towers, leaving smears of blood and gore to mark the places where they'd struck.

Bodies are flying from trebuchets, so that must mean a Lannister is on the other side.

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When Daenerys had taken the city, they had broken through that same gate with the huge battering ram called Joso's Cock, made from the mast of a ship.

Just a friendly reminder that this is a rape metaphor, and has nothing to do with Jon Snow's cock. My condolences to that fandom.

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Now once again the market was a scene of carnage, though these dead came riding the pale mare. By day Meereen's brick streets showed half a hundred hues, but night turned them into patchworks of black and white and grey. Torchlight shimmered in the puddles left by the recent rains, and painted lines of fire on the helms and greaves and breastplates of the men.

Unfortunate timing: the rain stopped precisely when the threat of a city-state being engulfed by dragon fire reached its peak.

Perhaps the gods are not deaf after all, Ser Barristan Selmy reflected as he watched those distant embers. If not for the rain, the fires might have consumed all of Meereen by now. - The Queen's Hand, ADWD

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Ser Barristan Selmy rode past them slowly. The old knight wore the armor his queen had given him—a suit of white enameled steel, inlaid and chased with gold. The cloak that streamed from his shoulders was as white as winter snow, as was the shield slung from his saddle. Beneath him was the queen's own mount, the silver mare Khal Drogo had given her upon their wedding day. That was presumptuous, he knew, but if Daenerys herself could not be with them in their hour of peril, Ser Barristan hoped the sight of her silver in the fray might give heart to her warriors, reminding them of who and what they fought for. 

Remember this, a great joke is coming.

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Besides, the silver had been years in the company of the queen's dragons, and had grown accustomed to the sight and scent of them. That was not something that could be said for the horses of their foes.

Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

That was how Khal Jhaqo found her, when half a hundred mounted warriors emerged from the drifting smoke. - Daenerys X, ADWD

Westeros implications as well.

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With him rode three of his lads. Tumco Lho carried the three-headed dragon banner of House Targaryen, red on black.

✨ banner ✨

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Beneath the towering brick facade of Meereen's ancient Slave Exchange, five thousand Unsullied were drawn up in ten long lines. They stood as still as if they had been carved of stone, each with his three spears, short sword, and shield. Torchlight winked off the spikes of their bronze helmets, and bathed the smooth-cheeked faces beneath. When a body came spinning down amongst them, the eunuchs simply stepped aside, taking just as many steps as were required, then closing ranks again. They were all afoot, even their officers: Grey Worm first and foremost, marked by the three spikes on his helm.

This isn't terribly important, but it's never made clear where the other three thousand are. Is it a surprise?

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Not far from them, about the ghastly monument the Great Masters called the Spire of Skulls, several hundred pit fighters had gathered. Selmy saw the Spotted Cat amongst them. Beside him stood Fearless Ithoke, and elsewhere Senerra She-Snake, Camarron of the Count, the Brindled Butcher, Togosh, Marrigo, Orlos the Catamite. Even Goghor the Giant was there, towering above the others like a man amongst boys. Freedom means something to them after all, it would seem. The pit fighters had more love for Hizdahr than they had ever shown Daenerys, but Selmy was glad to have them all the same. Some are even wearing armor, he observed. Perhaps his defeat of Khrazz had taught them something.

It wouldn't be a Barristan Selmy chapter if I didn't breakdown all the ways he's an imbecile.

Possibly Perhaps a Probable Predicament in the Battle #1:

We are not far removed from Barristan Selmy overthrowing Meereen's king and killing Khrazz, a pit fighter and the king's personal guard.

He now surrounds himself with other pit fighters, and is glad to be in their presence. 🚩🚩🚩

Selmy did not fear Khrazz, much less Steelskin. They were only pit fighters. Hizdahr's fearsome collection of former fighting slaves made indifferent guards at best. Speed and strength and ferocity they had, and some skill at arms as well, but blood games were poor training for protecting kings. In the pits their foes were announced with horns and drums, and after the battle was done and won the victors could have their wounds bound up and quaff some milk of the poppy for the pain, knowing that the threat was past and they were free to drink and feast and whore until the next fight. But the battle was never truly done for a knight of the Kingsguard. Threats came from everywhere and nowhere, at any time of day or night. No trumpets announced the foe: vassals, servants, friends, brothers, sons, even wives, any of them might have knives concealed beneath their cloaks and murder hidden in their hearts. For every hour of fighting, a Kingsguard knight spent ten thousand hours watching, waiting, standing silent in the shadows. - The Kingbreaker, TWOW

Could have another Tyrion / Mandon Moore situation on our hands.

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Above, the gatehouse battlements were crowded with men in patchwork cloaks and brazen masks: the Shavepate had sent his Brazen Beasts onto the city walls, to free up the Unsullied to take the field. Should the battle be lost, it would be up to Skahaz and his men to hold Meereen against the Yunkai'i … until such time as Queen Daenerys could return. If indeed she ever does.

George will never slip an ellipsis of truth by me!

The takeaway? The battle will be lost ... until Daenerys returns with her weapon of mass destruction.

There's even more evidence of this when we get a preview of Dumbo's overconfidence in his next chapter.

He sees that ironmen are coming ashore, fighting the Yunkish, and says, surprised, "They are on our side!" The sellswords did not come to meet his charge because they were already preoccupied with the ironborn! Barristan is almost gleeful. "It’s like Baelor Breakspear and Prince Maekar, the hammer and the anvil. We have them! We have them!" - Summary of Barristan II, TWOW

None of this is much of a surprise. Moving on.

Possibly Perhaps a Probable Predicament in the Battle #2:

With Barry and his knights, the Unsullied, the Lhazarene, the sellsword companies, the Dothraki, and all the fighting freedmen outside the walls, Barristan has left Skahaz the Shavepoint (aka The Poisoner) and his Brazen Beasts in charge of Meereen. Uhhh, not ideal.

Ser Witless has forgotten why Daenerys believed this was such a bad idea in the first place.

"I know." The queen sighed. "What do you counsel, ser?"

"Battle," said Ser Barristan.

[...]

"Or five. And if I give you the Unsullied, I will have no one but the Brazen Beasts to hold Meereen."

[...]

When she opened her eyes again, Daenerys said, "I cannot fight two enemies, one within and one without. If I am to hold Meereen, I must have the city behind me. The whole city. I need … I need …" She could not say it. - Daenerys V, ADWD

And that's not the only thing he's forgotten.

The hostages again. He would kill them every one if I allowed it. "I heard you the first hundred times. No." - The Queen's Hand, ADWD

Speaking of outcomes that are fairly easy to anticipate:

A battle that looks lost + Skahaz the Shavepate in charge of all the child hostages and Hizdahr zo Loraq = ...

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Across the city at other gates others forces had assembled. Tal Toraq and his Stalwart Shields had gathered by the eastern gate, sometimes called the hill gate or the Khyzai gate, since travelers bound for Lhazar via the Khyzai Pass always left that way. Marselen and the Mother's Men had massed beside the south gate, the Yellow Gate.

We remain on high alert regarding anything concerning Missandei's sole surviving brother.

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Too many foes, Ser Barristan brooded. Their numbers must surely tell against us. This attack went against all of the old knight’s instincts. Meereen’s walls were thick and strong. Inside those walls, the defenders enjoyed every advantage. Yet he had no choice but to lead his men into the teeth of the Yunkish siege lines, against foes of vastly greater strength.

The White Bull would have called it folly. He would have warned Barristan against trusting sellswords too. This is what it has come to, my queen, Ser Barristan thought. Our fates hinge upon a sellsword’s greed. Your city, your people, our lives … the Tattered Prince holds us all in his bloodstained hands.

You had no choice? Really, you had no choice?

The best of them overcame their flaws, did their duty, and died with their swords in their hands. The worst …

The worst were those who played the game of thrones. - The Queensguard, ADWD

x

If the Shavepate speaks treason, he will leave me no choice but to arrest him. Hizdahr is my queen's consort, however little I may like it. My duty is to him, not Skahaz. - The Queensguard, ADWD

x

"Daenerys signed that peace," Ser Barristan said. "It is not for us to break it without her leave." - The Queensguard, ADWD

The Tattered Prince's bloodstained hands? The Tattered Prince?

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Even if their best hope proved to be forlorn hope, Selmy knew that he had no other choice. He might have held Meereen for years against the Yunkai’i, but he could not hold it for even a moon’s turn with the pale mare galloping through its streets.

Here's that beautiful joke.

Who's the pale mare galloping through the streets, disrupting any chance of peace?

Ser Barristan Selmy rode past them slowly. The old knight wore the armor his queen had given him—a suit of white enameled steel, inlaid and chased with gold. The cloak that streamed from his shoulders was as white as winter snow, as was the shield slung from his saddle. Beneath him was the queen's own mount, the silver mare Khal Drogo had given her upon their wedding day.

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"You know our plan of attack," the white knight said, when the captains were gathered around him. "We will hit them first with our horse, as soon as the gate is opened. Ride hard and fast, straight at the slave soldiers. When the legions form up, sweep around them. Take them from behind or from the flank, but do not try their spears. Remember your objectives." "The trebuchet," said the Widower. "The one the Yunkai'i call Harridan. Take it, topple it, or burn it."

The plan is for Barristan to lead a sortie, destroy all the trebuchets, and give the Unsullied enough time to march and form up outside the gates.

And then they win, I guess? I don't know what the hell this guy is thinking.

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He let it pass, and said, "These attacks should distract the Yunkai'i long enough for Grey Worm to march the Unsullied out the gate and form up." That was where his plan would rise or fall, he knew. If the Yunkish commanders had any sense, they would send their horse thundering down on the eunuchs before they could form ranks, when they were most vulnerable. His own cavalry would have to prevent that long enough for the Unsullied to lock shields and raise their wall of spears.

An Unsullied weakness has been emphasized by the author. I'm sure that will be important later in the story.

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"At the sound of my horn, Grey Worm will advance in line and roll up the slavers and their soldiers. It may be that one or more Ghiscari legions will march out to meet them, shield to shield and spear to spear. That battle we shall surely win." "This one hears," said Grey Worm. "It shall be as you say." "Listen for my horn," Ser Barristan told them. "If you hear the retreat, fall back. Our walls stand behind us, packed with Brazen Beasts. Our foes dare not come too close, or they will find themselves in crossbow range. If you hear the horn sound advance, advance at once. Make for my standard or the queen's."

Possibly Perhaps a Probable Predicament in the Battle #3:

There's more than one person planning on sounding a horn during this fight.

"You will sail with me on Iron Victory," he told them, "but you will not join the battle. Boy, you're the youngest – you'll sound the horn first. When the time comes you will blow it long and loud. They say you are strong. Blow the horn until you are too weak to stand, until the last bit of breath has been squeezed from you, until your lungs are burning. Let the freedmen hear you in Meereen, the slavers in Yunkai, the ghosts in Astapor. Let the monkeys shit themselves at the sound when it rolls across the Isle of Cedars. Then pass the horn along to the next man. Do you hear me? Do you know what to do?" - Victarion I, TWOW

That might be an issue.

Not Barristan Selmy's fault, but I'll blame him anyway.

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The Widower's horse sidled to his left. "And if your horn falls silent, ser knight? If you and these green boys of yours are cut down?" It was a fair question. Ser Barristan meant to be the first through the Yunkish lines. He might well be the first to die. It often worked that way. "If I fall, command is yours. After you, Jokin. Then Grey Worm." Should all of us be killed, the day is lost, he might have added, but they all knew that, surely, and none of them would want to hear it said aloud. Never speak of defeat before a battle, Lord Commander Hightower had told him once, when the world was young, for the gods may be listening.

"And if we come upon the captain?" asked the Widower. Daario Naharis. "Give him a sword and follow him."

The Widower and Jokin are Stormcrow captains.

I have no idea why they're ahead of Grey Worm in the line of command.

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Though Barristan Selmy had little love and less trust for the queen’s paramour, he did not doubt his courage, nor his skill at arms. And if he should die heroically in battle, so much the better.

No way it will be that easy.

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He had done his own praying earlier, as his squires helped him don his armor. His gods were far away across the sea in Westeros, but if the septons told it true, the Seven watched over their children wherever they might wander. Ser Barristan had said a prayer to the Crone, beseeching her to grant him a little of her wisdom, so that he might lead his men to victory. To his old friend the Warrior he prayed for strength. He asked the Mother for her mercy, should he fall. The Father he entreated to watch over his lads, these half-trained squires who were the closest things to sons that he would ever know. Finally he had bowed his head to the Stranger. "You come for all men in the end," he had prayed, "but if it please you, spare me and mine today, and gather up the spirits of our foes instead."

She sure does.

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"Ser?" Larraq pointed with the Kingsguard banner, even as a wordless murmur went up from a thousand pairs of lips. Far across the city, where the shadowed steps of Meereen’s Great Pyramid shouldered eight hundred feet into a starless sky, a fire had awoken where once the harpy stood. A yellow spark at the apex of the pyramid, it glimmered and was gone again, and for half a heartbeat Ser Barristan was afraid the wind had blown it out. Then it returned, brighter, fiercer, the flames swirling, now yellow, now red, now orange, reaching up, clawing at the dark. Away to the east, dawn was breaking behind the hills.

The beacon!

"We have built a beacon atop the pyramid where once the Harpy stood. Dry wood soaked with oil, covered to keep the rain off. Should the hour come, and I pray that it does not, we will light that beacon. The flames will be your signal to pour out of our gates and attack. - The Queen's Hand, ADWD

This beacon isn't as fun as Stannis' beacon. (Or is it??)

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Another thousand voices were exclaiming now. Another thousand men were looking, pointing, donning their helms, reaching for their swords and axes. Ser Barristan heard the rattle of chains. That was the portcullis coming up. Next would come the groan of the gate’s huge iron hinges. It was time. The Red Lamb handed him his winged helm. Barristan Selmy slipped it down over his head, fastened it to his gorget, pulled up his shield, slipped his arm inside the straps. The air tasted strangely sweet. There was nothing like the prospect of death to make a man feel alive. "May the Warrior protect us all," he told his lads. "Sound the attack."

Earlier:

Ser Barristan smiled. "Well said … but take care that you do not seek death out there, or you will surely find it. The Stranger comes for all of us, but we need not rush into his arms."

Love that this moron continuously references the Faith of the Seven to a bunch of people who don't know what the hell he's talking about.

Final thoughts:

Can officially confirm Barristan Selmy still sucks in The Winds of Winter.

Next chapter: Victarion I

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[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

TWOW: Arianne I

On the morning that she left the Water Gardens, her father rose from his chair to kiss her on both cheeks. "The fate of Dorne goes with you, daughter," he said, as he pressed the parchment into her hand. "Go swiftly, go safely, be my eyes and ears and voice… but most of all, take care."

Probably the last time she sees her father.

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Seven of them set out together on seven Dornish sand steeds. A small party travels more swiftly than a large one, but the heir to Dorne does not ride alone. From Godsgrace came Ser Daemon Sand, the bastard; once Prince Oberyn's squire, now Arianne's sworn shield. From Sunspear two bold young knights, Joss Hood and Garibald Shells, to lend their swords to his. From the Water Gardens seven ravens and a tall young lad to tend them. His name was Nate, but he had been working with the birds so long that no one called him anything but Feathers. And since a princess must have some women to attend her, her company also included pretty Jayne Ladybright and wild Elia Sand, a maid of ten-and-four.

Providing you some additional background information.

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War is happening, thought Arianne, and this time Dorne will not be spared. "Doom and death are coming," Ellaria Sand had warned them, before she took her own leave from Prince Doran. "It is time for my little snakes to scatter, the better to survive the carnage." 

Truer words have never been spoken.

Great strategy too! While the circumstances were less than ideal, the Starklings being scattered all over Westeros is the only reason four of them managed to survive this long. Plot armour also helps.

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Dayne was her most grievous sin, the one that Arianne most regretted. With one stroke of his sword, he had changed her botched plot into something foul and bloody. If the gods were good, by now Obara Sand had treed him in his mountain fastness and put an end to him.

Hmm, doubt that.

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She said as much to Daemon Sand that first night, as they made camp. "Be careful what you pray for, princess," he replied. "Darkstar could put an end to Lady Obara just as easily." "She has Areo Hotah with her." Prince Doran's captain of guards had dispatched Ser Arys Oakheart with a single blow, though the Kingsguard were supposed to be the finest knights in all the realm. "No man can stand against Hotah."

Remember, that side quest is based on a Doran Martell lie. Therefore, there's no shot Darkstar, Areo Hotah, Balon Swann, and Obara Sand being in the Red Mountains together will go well.

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Poison, thought Arianne. Yes. Pretty poison, though. That was how he'd fooled her. Gerold Dayne was hard and cruel, but so fair to look upon that the princess had not believed half the tales she'd heard of him. Pretty boys had ever been her weakness, particularly the ones who were dark and dangerous as well. That was before, when I was just a girl, she told herself. I am a woman now, my father's daughter. I have learned that lesson.

[...] The princess found herself riding beside Ser Daemon, remembering other rides when they were younger, rides that often ended in embraces. When she found herself stealing glances at him, tall and gallant in the saddle, Arianne reminded herself that she was heir to Dorne, and him no more than her shield.

When the author makes 24-year-old Arianne Martell indistinguishable from 13-year-old Sansa, and 15-year-old Daenerys.

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"Tell me what you know of this Jon Connington," she commanded. "He's dead," said Daemon Sand. "He died in the Disputed Lands. Of drink, I've heard it said." "So a dead drunk leads this army?" "Perhaps this Jon Connington is a son of that one. Or just some clever sellsword who has taken on a dead man's name."

That's considered fAegon evidence.

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"Or he never died at all." Could Connington have been pretending to be dead for all these years? That would require patience worthy of her father. The thought made Arianne uneasy. Treating with a man that subtle could be perilous.

Unfortunately for Jon Connington, terminal illness tends to rob you of your patience.

I do not have time enough for caution. - The Lost Lord, ADWD

x

It was not the prudent course, but he was tired of prudence, sick of secrets, weary of waiting. - The Lost Lord, ADWD

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"What was he like before he… before he died?" "I was a boy at Godsgrace when he was sent into exile. I never knew the man." "Then tell me what you've heard of him from others." "As my princess commands. Connington was Lord of Griffin's Roost when Griffin's Roost was still a lordship worth the having. Prince Rhaegar's squire, or one of them. Later Prince Rhaegar's friend and companion. The Mad King named him Hand during Robert's Rebellion, but he was defeated at Stoney Sept in the Battle of the Bells, and Robert slipped away. King Aerys was wroth, and sent Connington into exile. There he died." "Or not." Prince Doran had told her all of that. There must be more. 

They're the same age, why does a bastard of Godsgrace know more about Jon Connington than the heir to Dorne?

How is her father just now telling her about Aerys' Hand, and the Battle of the Bells? She was the same age as Bran during the events of AGOT when the Rebellion was taking place.

+.+.+

"Those are just the things he did. I know all that. What sort of man was he? Honest and honorable, venal and grasping, proud?" "Proud, for a certainty. Even arrogant. A faithful friend to Rhaegar, but prickly with others. Robert was his liege, but I've heard it said that Connington chafed at serving such a lord. Even then, Robert was known to be fond of wine and whores." "No whores for Lord Jon, then?" "I could not say. Some men keep their whoring secret." "Did he have a wife? A paramour?" Ser Daemon shrugged. "Not that I have ever heard."

You're getting warmer.

+.+.+

That was troubling too. Ser Arys Oakheart had broken his vows for her, but it did not sound as if Jon Connington could be similarly swayed. Can I match such a man with words alone?

Lol.

Cersei Lannister attempting to seduce Stannis Baratheon.

vs.

Arianne Martell attempting to seduce Jon Connington.

Who wins?

+.+.+

To Prince Doran of House Martell, You will remember me, I pray. I knew your sister well, and was a leal servant of your good-brother. I grieve for them as you do. I did not die, no more than did your sister's son. To save his life we kept him hidden, but the time for hiding is done. A dragon has returned to Westeros to claim his birthright and seek vengeance for his father, and for the princess Elia, his mother. In her name I turn to Dorne. Do not forsake us. Jon Connington Lord of Griffin's Roost Hand of the True King

Arianne read the letter thrice, then rolled it up and tucked it back into her sleeve. 

Good, good, keep writing while you still can.

I knew your sister well, and was a leal servant of your good-brother. I grieve for them as you do.

↓↓↓

Elia was never worthy of him. She was frail and sickly from the first, and childbirth only left her weaker. - The Griffin Reborn, ADWD

+.+.+

A dragon has returned to Westeros, but not the dragon my father was expecting. Nowhere in the words was there a mention of Daenerys Stormborn… nor of Prince Quentyn, her brother, who had been sent to seek the dragon queen. The princess remembered how her father had pressed the onyx cyvasse piece into her palm, his voice hoarse and low as he confessed his plan. A long and perilous voyage, with an uncertain welcome at its end, he had said. He has gone to bring us back our heart's desire. Vengeance. Justice. Fire and blood.

And that's exactly what Dorne got.

+.+.+

In the Boneway and the Prince's Pass, two Dornish hosts had massed, and there they sat, sharpening their spears, polishing their armor, dicing, drinking, quarreling, their numbers dwindling by the day, waiting, waiting, waiting for the Prince of Dorne to loose them on the enemies of House Martell. Waiting for the dragons. For fire and blood. For me. One word from Arianne and those armies would march… so long as that word was dragon. If instead the word she sent was war, Lord Yronwood and Lord Fowler and their armies would remain in place. The Prince of Dorne was nothing if not subtle; here war meant wait.

The issue here is that not all the key players in Dorne are pursuing the same common objective, even though Doran Martell took the extra precaution of making them all pinky promise they'll behave.

"Tyene. Obara is too loud. Tyene is so sweet and gentle that no man will suspect her. Obara would make Oldtown our father's funeral pyre, but I am not so greedy. Four lives will suffice for me. Lord Tywin's golden twins, as payment for Elia's children. The old lion, for Elia herself. And last of all the little king, for my father." - The Captain of the Guards, AFFC

x

"War," said Tyene, "though not my sister's war. Dornishmen fight best at home, so I say let us hone our spears and wait. When the Lannisters and the Tyrells come down on us, we shall bleed them in the passes and bury them beneath the blowing sands, as we have a hundred times before." - The Captain of the Guards, AFFC

Doran's plan might be to hold or march, but Tyene and Nym's plan involved provoking the Lannisters, child murder, and armies descending upon Dorne.

And oops, Doran gave them the kid.

+.+.+

"Are you half horse, child?" Valena asked, laughing, in the yard. "Princess, did you bring a stable girl?" "I'm Elia," the girl announced. "Lady Lance." Whoever hung that name on her has much to answer for. Like as not it had been Prince Oberyn, though, and the Red Viper had never answered to anyone but himself. "The girl jouster," Valena said. "Yes, I've heard of you. Since you were the first to the yard, you've won the honor of watering and bridling the horses."

Elia, with a little bit of Lyanna mixed in.

+.+.+

"We have heard the same tales here that you have heard at Sunspear," Lady Nymella told them as her serving man poured the wine. "Sellswords landing on Cape Wrath, castles under siege or being taken, crops seized or burned. Where these men come from and who they are, no one is certain."

Is that the Golden Company burning food they don't seize?

Good luck in the future, you're going to need it.

+.+.+

"Pirates and adventurers, we heard at first," said Valena. "Then it was supposed to be the Golden Company. Now it's said to be Jon Connington, the Mad King's Hand, come back from the grave to reclaim his birthright. Whoever it is, Griffin's Roost has fallen to them. Rain House, Crow's Nest, Mistwood, even Greenstone on its island. All taken." [...] "Tarth has fallen too, some fisherfolk will tell you," said Valena. "These sellswords now hold most of Cape Wrath and half the Stepstones. We hear talk of elephants in the rainwood."

NOOOoooooo. Give it back!!

+.+.+

"And krakens off the Broken Arm, pulling under crippled galleys," said Valena. "The blood draws them to the surface, our maester claims. There are bodies in the water. A few have washed up on our shores. And that's not half of it. A new pirate king has set up on Torturer's Deep. The Lord of the Waters, he styles himself. This one has real warships, three-deckers, monstrous large. You were wise not to come by sea. Since the Redwyne fleet passed through the Stepstones, those waters are crawling with strange sails, all the way north to the Straights of Tarth and Shipbreaker's Bay. Myrmen, Volantenes, Lyseni, even reavers from the Iron Islands. Some have entered the Sea of Dorne to land men on the south shore of Cape Wrath. We found a good fast ship for you, as your father commanded, but even so… be careful."

Krakens!

Everyone say hello to Aurane Waters. I'll cover the rest below.

+.+.+

"Is Dorne at risk?" Lady Nymella asked. "I confess, each time I see a strange sail my heart leaps to my throat. What if these ships turn south? The best part of the Toland strength is with Lord Yronwood in the Boneway. Who will defend Ghost Hill if these strangers land upon our shores? Should I call my men home?" "Your men are needed where they are, my lady," Daemon Sand assured her. Arianne was quick to nod. Any other counsel could well lead to Lord Yronwood's host unravelling like an old tapestry as each man rushed home to defend his own lands against supposed enemies who might or might not ever come. "Once we know beyond a doubt whether these be friends or foes, my father will know what to do," the princess said.

Is Dorne at risk? Uh, yes.

"Doom and death are coming," Ellaria Sand had warned them

Please allow me to illustrate all the ways Dorne is fucked.

Map!

The red circle is where Lady Nymella sits, worried that she's badly exposed, and has nobody to protect her lands (valid fear).

The orange stars indicate the two great Dornish hosts, sitting in the Prince's Pass, and the Boneway.

Now, those two Dornish hosts are well positioned (heh, unless they "unravel") to take on the ever-resilient Cersei Lannister (who will probably have one less kid, thanks to Dorne).

However, if those hosts are preoccupied with an army descending down upon them, the rest of Dorne becomes extremely vulnerable. Didn't think that one through, did you Tyene?

Euron is in the west, travelling further and further along the coast, and I've just been informed by reliable sources that House Redwyne has no hope in hell of stopping him.

Daenerys, another vengeful queen Dorne will piss off, is coming from the east with her dragons, army, and fleet.

Notice how Dorne finds itself between Euron and Daenerys / Victarion? That ain't good.

Moving on, the purple stars are all the pirates, and slavers at the Stepstones and in the Sea of Dorne. We will continue to hear stories of them growing bolder, and landing on the shores of Westeros in Arianne's next chapter. Please pray for Lady Nymella.

That leaves the green arrows: the Greenblood, Dorne's most glaring weakness right now.

The mouth of the Greenblood lies in the Planky Town, which isn't currently being supported by any Dornish forces. Throughout history, there are multiple examples of the Planky Town being broken, and enemy forces driving up the Greenblood to defeat Dorne.

It's a historical fact that randomly gets inserted into a Jon chapter.

"Goat tracks?" The king's eyes narrowed. "I speak of moving swiftly, and you waste my time with goat tracks?"

"When the Young Dragon conquered Dorne, he used a goat track to bypass the Dornish watchtowers on the Boneway."

"I know that tale as well, but Daeron made too much of it in that vainglorious book of his. Ships won that war, not goat tracks. Oakenfist broke the Planky Town and swept halfway up the Greenblood whilst the main Dornish strength was engaged in the Prince's Pass." - Jon IV, ADWD

Kind of feels like with Dorne moving all its pieces to the Prince's Pass and Boneway, we're about to witness this play out all over again.

Do you see what happens when you play the game of thrones? Maybe I owe Lysa Arryn an apology.

One more thing,

"Once we know beyond a doubt whether these be friends or foes, my father will know what to do," the princess said.

That father who knows what to do? He's going to be dead.

+.+.+

It was then that pasty, pudgy Teora raised her eyes from the creamcakes on her plate. "It is dragons." "Dragons?" said her mother. "Teora, don't be mad." "I'm not. They're coming." "How could you possibly know that?" her sister asked, with a note of scorn in her voice. "One of your little dreams?" Teora gave a tiny nod, chin trembling. "They were dancing. In my dream. And everywhere the dragons danced the people died."

Is that like bad or something?

+.+.+

"I can attest to that." Ser Daemon took a sip of wine and said, "House Toland has a dragon on its banners." "A dragon eating its own tail, aye," Valena said. "From the days of Aegon's Conquest. He did not conquer here. Elsewhere he burned his foes, him and his sisters, but here we melted away before them, leaving only stone and sand for them to burn. And round and round the dragons went, snapping at their tails for want of any other food, till they were tied in knots."

So many interpretations of this sigil: the dragon is chasing its tail, the dragon is time ... no.

The dragon is eating itself, symbolizing House Targaryen.

+.+.+

"Our forebears played their part in that," Lady Nymella said proudly. "Bold deeds were done, and brave men died. All of it was written down by the maesters who served us. We have books, if my princess would like to know more." "Some other time, perhaps," said Arianne.

Well, that's the last thing you'd ever want to see.

George keeps emphasizing that Arianne Martell is Not A Reader.

During the daylight hours she would try to read, but the books that they had given her were deadly dull: ponderous old histories and geographies, annotated maps, a dry-as-dust study of the laws of Dorne, The Seven-Pointed Star and Lives of the High Septons, a huge tome about dragons that somehow made them about as interesting as newts. - The Princess in the Tower, AFFC

For the record, I don't care about this, but I am well aware of the author's stance on characters who have limited knowledge of history.

This is a book that Daenerys might actually benefit from reading, but she has no access to Archermaester Gyldayn’s crumbling manuscripts. So she's operating on her own there. Maybe if she understood a few things more about dragons and her own history in Essos, things would have gone a little differently. - Esquire, 2018

x

Martin is good at keeping secrets, but he does offer up one tidbit—a reminder that the royal Daenerys Targaryen was given the histories of her world as a wedding gift but neglected to read them. - Vulture, 2014

This is not a good parallel to share with Daenerys Targaryen.

Do I think it's a disaster and Arianne's as good as dead? No. Arya is Not A Reader. Asha is Not A Reader. They'll be fine, one of them might even run a kingdom by the end of this.

Still, at the very least it probably means Arianne Martell is poised to make more mistakes.

+.+.+

The Bastard of Godsgrace was one of Dorne's finest swords as well, as might be expected from one who had been Prince Oberyn's squire and had received his knighthood from the Red Viper himself. Some said that he had been her uncle's lover too, though seldom to his face. Arianne did not know the truth of that. He had been her lover, though. At fourteen she had given him her maidenhead. Daemon had not been much older, so their couplings had been as clumsy as they were ardent. Still, it had been sweet. Arianne gave him her most seductive smile. "We might share a bed together." Ser Daemon's face was stone. "Have you forgotten, princess? I am bastard born." He took her hand in his. "If I am unworthy of this hand, how can I be worthy of your cunt?"

Lol.

Arianne reminded herself that she was heir to Dorne, and him no more than her shield.

+.+.+

"What I will you will not, it seems. So be it. Talk with me instead. Could this truly be Prince Aegon?" "Gregor Clegane ripped Aegon out of Elia's arms and smashed his head against a wall," Ser Daemon said. "If Lord Connington's prince has a crushed skull, I will believe that Aegon Targaryen has returned from the grave. Elsewise, no. This is some feigned boy, no more. A sellsword's ploy to win support."

My father fears the same.

Daemon Sand comes across as a highly logical and rational thinker. I'm not sure what I'll think if he continues to not believe it's Aegon.

+.+.+

So it was. "I was seven when Elia died. They say I held her daughter Rhaenys once, when I was too young to remember. Aegon will be a stranger to me, whether true or false." The princess paused. "We looked for Rhaegar's sister, not his son." Her father had confided in Ser Daemon when he chose him as his daughter's shield; with him at least she could speak freely. "I would sooner it were Quentyn who'd returned." "Or so you say," said Daemon Sand. "Good night, princess." He bowed to her, and left her standing there. What did he mean by that? Arianne watched him walk away. What sort of sister would I be, if I did not want my brother back? It was true, she had resented Quentyn for all those years that she had thought their father meant to name him as his heir in place of her, but that had turned out to be just a misunderstanding. She was the heir to Dorne, she had her father's word on that. Quentyn would have his dragon queen, Daenerys.

You good, Arianne?

+.+.+

In Sunspear hung a portrait of the Princess Daenerys who had come to Dorne to marry one of Arianne's forebears. In her younger days Arianne had spent hours gazing at it, back when she was just a pudgy flat-chested girl on the cusp of maidenhood who prayed every night for the gods to make her pretty. A hundred years ago, Daenerys Targaryen came to Dorne to make a peace. Now another comes to make a war, and my brother will be her king and consort. King Quentyn. Why did that sound so silly?

She's coming alright.

I don't blame her for thinking it sounds silly, but I can't lie, she's making me a little uncomfortable right now.

+.+.+

Almost as silly as Quentyn riding on a dragon. Her brother was an earnest boy, well-behaved and dutiful, but dull. And plain, so plain. The gods had given Arianne the beauty she had prayed for, but Quentyn must have prayed for something else. His head was overlarge and sort of square, his hair the color of dried mud. His shoulders slumped as well, and he was too thick about the middle. He looks too much like Father.

Maybe he valued other things, Arianne.

What would a maid that age want with her dull, bookish brother? - Arianne II, TWOW

+.+.+

"I love my brother," said Arianne, though only the moon could hear her. Though if truth be told, she scarcely knew him. Quentyn had been fostered by Lord Anders of House Yronwood, the Bloodroyal, the son of Lord Ormond Yronwood and grandson of Lord Edgar. In his youth her uncle Oberyn had fought a duel with Edgar, had given him a wound that mortified and killed him. Afterward men called him 'the Red Viper,' and spoke of poison on his blade. The Yronwoods were an ancient house, proud and powerful. Before the coming of the Rhoynar they had been kings over half of Dorne, with domains that dwarfed those of House Martell. Blood feud and rebellion would surely have followed Lord Edgar's death, had not her father acted at once. The Red Viper went to Oldtown, thence across to the narrow sea to Lys, though none dared call it exile. And in due time, Quentyn was given to Lord Anders to foster as a sign of trust. That helped to heal the breach between Sunspear and the Yronwoods, but it had opened new ones between Quentyn and the Sand Snakes… and Arianne had always been closer to her cousins than to her distant brother.

They were kids when this happened, but it's still wild to resent Quentyn for any of this. He was also cut off from his father.

+.+.+

"We are still the same blood, though," she whispered. "Of course I want my brother home. I do." The wind off the sea was raising gooseprickles all up and down her arms. Arianne pulled her cloak about herself, and went off to seek her bed.

Are you alright?

+.+.+

Arianne played a game of cyvasse with Ser Daemon, and another one with Garibald Shells, and somehow managed to lose both. Ser Garibald was kind enough to say that she played a gallant game, but Daemon mocked her. "You have other pieces beside the dragon, princess. Try moving them sometime."

This is like reading a Catelyn chapter from A Storm of Swords.

+.+.+

"I like the dragon." She wanted to slap the smile off his face. Or kiss it off, perhaps. The man was as smug as he was comely. Of all the knights in Dorne, why did my father chose this one to be my shield? He knows our history.

Did she answer her own question? Bwahaha.

+.+.+

The secret pact that Prince Doran had made all those years called for Arianne to be wed to Prince Viserys, not Quentyn to Daenerys. It had all come undone on the Dothraki sea, when he was murdered. Crowned with a pot of molten gold. "He was killed by a Dothraki khal," said Arianne. "The dragon queen's own husband." "So I've heard. What of it?" "Just… why did Daenerys let it happen? Viserys was her brother. All that remained of her own blood." "The Dothraki are a savage folk. Who can know why they kill? Perhaps Viserys wiped his arse with the wrong hand." Perhaps, thought Arianne, or perhaps Daenerys realized that once her brother was crowned and wed to me, she would be doomed to spend the rest of her life sleeping in a tent and smelling like a horse. "She is the Mad King's daughter," the princess said. "How do we do know —" "We cannot know," Ser Daemon said. "We can only hope."

Are you projecting?

There's no getting around the fact that Arianne is bothered by the idea of her brother being king, despite it not interfering with her inheriting Dorne.

Sadly, these thoughts are going to continue in her next chapter.

King Quentyn. It still sounded silly. This new Daenerys Targaryen was younger than Arianne by half a dozen years. What would a maid that age want with her dull, bookish brother? Young girls dreamed of dashing knights with wicked smiles, not solemn boys who always did their duty. She will want Dorne, though. If she hopes to sit the Iron Throne, she must have Sunspear. If Quentyn was the price for that, this dragon queen would pay it. What if she was at Griffin’s End with Connington, and all this about another Targaryen was just some sort of subtle ruse? Her brother could well be with her. King Quentyn. Will I need to kneel to him? - Arianne II, TWOW

It's another bad parallel to share with Daenerys Targaryen.

"What … what if it were not Viserys?" she asked. "If it were someone else who led them? Someone stronger? Could the Dothraki truly conquer the Seven Kingdoms?" - Daenerys IV, AGOT

x

She wondered if all men were as false in the Seven Kingdoms. When her son sat the Iron Throne, she would see that he had bloodriders of his own to protect him against treachery in his Kingsguard. - Daenerys IV, AGOT

x

Dany had not known, had not even suspected. "Then … he should have them. He does not need to steal them. He had only to ask. He is my brother … and my true king." - Daenerys V, AGOT

Let's hope these thoughts only exist to amplify the remorse and guilt she'll feel after she learns he's dead, and nothing more.

In other news, it appears that a developing rivalry between Daenerys and Arianne is taking form.

Is that you, Arianne Martell?

Final thoughts:

Doran's going to die, Oberyn's dead, Quentyn's dead, half the Sand Snakes are massive liabilities, Areo Hotah is a mute, and Arianne doesn't read books.

Where's Sarella? Maybe we let Ellaria run the kingdom for a bit.

Next chapter: Mercy (Arya)

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[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Daenerys X (Chapter 71)

Surprise, crazy survived. For now.

The hill was a stony island in a sea of green.

It took Dany half the morning to climb down. By the time she reached the bottom she was winded. Her muscles ached, and she felt as if she had the beginnings of a fever. 

Well looky here! First paragraph.

Miss thing has a fever before wandering in the sun, drinking muddy water, and eating strange berries. Why's that?

The Blue Grace called Ezzara folded her hands. "My queen," she murmured, "his fever was not brought on by the arrow. He had soiled himself, not once but many times. The stains reached to his knees, and there was dried blood amongst his excrement." - Daenerys V, ADWD

x

He felt her brow. Is it hot in here, or does she have a touch of fever? He dared not ask that question aloud. Even hard men like the Second Sons were terrified of mounting the pale mare. - Tyrion XII, ADWD

I've seen many people argue Khaleesi can't have the bloody flux because she's been gone for close to a month. I don't know how they reached that conclusion, but it's bonkers. The chapters aren't in chronological order. Surviving on that hill for a month while starved, burned, cold, and half naked is not realistic.

Bacillary dysentery symptoms can sometimes appear 10 days after exposure. There's nothing in the text suggesting she's been on this hill longer than that.

+.+.+

The rocks had scraped her hands raw. They are better than they were, though, she decided as she picked at a broken blister. Her skin was pink and tender, and a pale milky fluid was leaking from her cracked palms, but her burns were healing.

Remember this. It will be worth it.

+.+.+

The hill loomed larger down here. Dany had taken to calling it Dragonstone, after the ancient citadel where she'd been born. She had no memories of that Dragonstone, but she would not soon forget this one. 

Wait until she finds out Drogon's hill is nicer than Dragonstone.

+.+.+

The air smelled of ash, every rock and tree in sight was scorched and blackened, the ground strewn with burned and broken bones, yet it had been home to him.

It's hilarious how simple and concise the messaging is when it comes to dragons. And yet so many people ...

+.+.+

Once she found the Skahazadhan she need only follow it downstream to Slaver's Bay.

She would sooner have returned to Meereen on dragon's wings, to be sure. But that was a desire Drogon did not seem to share.

"There is a reason. A dragon is no slave." - Daenerys III, ASOS

I bet a direwolf would help a Stark get back to Meereen. Maybe the bond between dragon and rider isn't so special after all.

+.+.+

The dragonlords of old Valyria had controlled their mounts with binding spells and sorcerous horns. Daenerys made do with a word and a whip. Mounted on the dragon's back, she oft felt as if she were learning to ride all over again. When she whipped her silver mare on her right flank the mare went left, for a horse's first instinct is to flee from danger. When she laid the whip across Drogon's right side he veered right, for a dragon's first instinct is always to attack. Sometimes it did not seem to matter where she struck him, though; sometimes he went where he would and took her with him. Neither whip nor words could turn Drogon if he did not wish to be turned. 

+.+.+

And no matter how far the dragon flew each day, come nightfall some instinct drew him home to Dragonstone. His home, not mine. Her home was back in Meereen, with her husband and her lover. That was where she belonged, surely.

You could always conquer it.

Khaleesi is wavering on where exactly she belongs. I could tell her.

The green swallowed her up. The air was rich with the scents of earth and grass, mixed with the smell of horseflesh and Dany's sweat and the oil in her hair. Dothraki smells. They seemed to belong here. Dany breathed it all in, laughing. - Daenerys III, AGOT

x

She was barefoot, with oiled hair, wearing Dothraki riding leathers and a painted vest given her as a bride gift. She looked as though she belonged here. - Daenerys III, AGOT

x

"Once," said Ser Jorah. "No longer, Khaleesi. You belong to the Dothraki now. In your womb rides the stallion who mounts the world." - Daenerys V, AGOT

+.+.+

Her home was back in Meereen, with her husband and her lover. That was where she belonged, surely.

Keep walking. If I look back I am lost.

Are you ready for some first-rate literary analysis?

Drogon's scorched and blackened Dragonstone hill represents her violent impulses, and thirst for war. In other words, fire and blood. Khaleesi will spend almost the whole chapter convincing herself to walk away from it towards Meereen.

$5 to anyone who can guess what happens at the end.

+.+.+

Memories walked with her. Clouds seen from above. Horses small as ants thundering through the grass. A silver moon, almost close enough to touch. 

Horses getting the ant treatment.

+.+.+

She had to don her crown again and return to her ebon bench and the arms of her noble husband.

Hizdahr, of the tepid kisses.

Yeah, cause I'm sure you're always dripping wet.

Sorry.

+.+.+

One of her sandals had slipped off during her wild flight from Meereen and she had left the other up by Drogon's cave, preferring to go barefoot rather than half-shod. 

Drogon, her Prince Charming.

+.+.+

I must look a ragged thing, and starved, she thought, but if the days stay warm, I will not freeze.

That's not going to work, winter is coming for you.

+.+.+

Hers had been a lonely sojourn, and for most of it she had been hurt and hungry … yet despite it all she had been strangely happy here. A few aches, an empty belly, chills by night … what does it matter when you can fly? I would do it all again.

Keep walking, Khaleesi.

+.+.+

One morning she had found some wild onions growing halfway down the south slope, and later that same day a leafy reddish vegetable that might have been some queer sort of cabbage. Whatever it was, it had not made her sick. Aside from that, and one fish that she had caught in the spring-fed pool outside of Drogon's cave, she had survived as best she could on the dragon's leavings, on burned bones and chunks of smoking meat, half-charred and half-raw. 

The food she's been consuming for days has not made her sick. That's not why she has a fever.

+.+.+

Though she walked through a green kingdom, it was not the deep rich green of summer. Even here autumn made its presence felt, and winter would not be far behind. The grass was paler than she remembered, a wan and sickly green on the verge of going yellow. After that would come brown. The grass was dying.

The dying grass is heavily emphasized throughout the chapter. It might be important, we'll cover it later.

+.+.+

She'd had Irri and Jhiqui and Doreah to care for her, her sun-and-stars to hold her in the night, his child growing inside her. Rhaego. I was going to name him Rhaego, and the dosh khaleen said he would be the Stallion Who Mounts the World. Not since those half-remembered days in Braavos when she lived in the house with the red door had she been as happy.

What might it say about Khaleesi when it's the Dothraki culture and customs that make her happy?

+.+.+

But in the Red Waste, all her joy had turned to ashes. Her sun-and-stars had fallen from his horse, the maegi Mirri Maz Duur had murdered Rhaego in her womb, and Dany had smothered the empty shell of Khal Drogo with her own two hands. 

Ser Jorah had killed her son, Dany knew. He had done what he did for love and loyalty, yet he had carried her into a place no living man should go and fed her baby to the darkness. - Daenerys IX, AGOT

+.+.+

Afterward Drogo's great khalasar had shattered. Ko Pono named himself Khal Pono and took many riders with him, and many slaves as well. Ko Jhaqo named himself Khal Jhaqo and rode off with even more. Mago, his bloodrider, raped and murdered Eroeh, a girl Daenerys had once saved from him. 

Thanks for this quick breakdown of Dothraki characters we haven't seen in ages, George.

+.+.+

Only the birth of her dragons amidst the fire and smoke of Khal Drogo's funeral pyre had spared Dany herself from being dragged back to Vaes Dothrak to live out the remainder of her days amongst the crones of the dosh khaleen.

The fire burned away my hair, but elsewise it did not touch me. It had been the same in Daznak's Pit. That much she could recall, though much of what followed was a haze. 

Oopsie daisy, someone is losing their fucking mind.

Her skin was pink and tender, and a pale milky fluid was leaking from her cracked palms, but her burns were healing.

I agree with the people who say we shouldn't attribute her actions in King's Landing to being mad, but I think it's a mistake to completely dismiss the fact that she's slowly losing it like her father.

She can be responsible for her own actions, and also not right upstairs. See: Cersei Lannister.

+.+.+

From below a spear came flying, followed by a flight of crossbow bolts. One passed so close that Dany felt it brush her cheek. Others skittered off Drogon's scales, lodged between them, or tore through the membrane of his wings. She remembered the dragon twisting beneath her, shuddering at the impacts, as she tried desperately to cling to his scaled back. The wounds were smoking. 

We love Dragon x Other parallels!

When he opened his eyes the Other's armor was running down its legs in rivulets as pale blue blood hissed and steamed around the black dragonglass dagger in its throat. It reached down with two bone-white hands to pull out the knife, but where its fingers touched the obsidian they smoked. - Samwell I, ASOS

It's not terribly important, but I would think the membranes of their wings are vulnerable. Why only the eyes?

+.+.+

Dany saw one of the bolts burst into sudden flame. Another fell away, shaken loose by the beating of his wings. Below, she saw men whirling, wreathed in flame, hands up in the air as if caught in the throes of some mad dance. A woman in a green tokar reached for a weeping child, pulling him down into her arms to shield him from the flames. Dany saw the color vividly, but not the woman's face. People were stepping on her as they lay tangled on the bricks. Some were on fire.

Would you like to express any regret or guilt for this?

+.+.+

Then all of that had faded, the sounds dwindling, the people shrinking, the spears and arrows falling back beneath them as Drogon clawed his way into the sky. Up and up and up he'd borne her, high above the pyramids and pits, his wings outstretched to catch the warm air rising from the city's sun baked bricks. If I fall and die, it will still have been worth it, she had thought.

Oh.

+.+.+

North they flew, beyond the river, Drogon gliding on torn and tattered wings through clouds that whipped by like the banners of some ghostly army. 

It would be easy to mistake this ghostly army for the Others.

Same with this,

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper's rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent. - Daenerys III, ADWD

But we know better, don't we?

Burning shafts hissed upward, trailing tongues of fire. Scarecrow brothers tumbled down, black cloaks ablaze. "Snow," an eagle cried, as foemen scuttled up the ice like spiders. Jon was armored in black ice, but his blade burned red in his fist. - Jon XII, ADWD

+.+.+

The sun grew hotter as it rose, and before long her head was pounding. 

Fever, and headache.

+.+.+

Dany's hair was growing out again, but slowly. "I need a hat," she said aloud. Up on Dragonstone she had tried to make one for herself, weaving stalks of grass together as she had seen Dothraki women do during her time with Drogo, but either she was using the wrong sort of grass or she simply lacked the necessary skill. Her hats all fell to pieces in her hands. Try again, she told herself. You will do better the next time. You are the blood of the dragon, you can make a hat. She tried and tried, but her last attempt had been no more successful than her first.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Dragons sow sew no hats.

That might be an Egg reference. Hey, didn't he go mad and burn Summerhall?

+.+.+

It was afternoon by the time Dany found the stream she had glimpsed atop the hill. It was a rill, a rivulet, a trickle, no wider than her arm … and her arm had grown thinner every day she spent on Dragonstone. Dany scooped up a handful of water and splashed it on her face. When she cupped her hands, her knuckles squished in the mud at the bottom of the stream. She might have wished for colder, clearer water … but no, if she were going to pin her hopes on wishes, she would wish for rescue.

I don't think you want to be doing that.

"Clean fresh water, as much as he will drink."

"Not river water," said Sweets. - Tyrion XI, ADWD

+.+.+

Ser Barristan might come seeking her; he was the first of her Queensguard, sworn to defend her life with his own. And her bloodriders were no strangers to the Dothraki sea, and their lives were bound to her own. Her husband, the noble Hizdahr zo Loraq, might dispatch searchers. And Daario … Dany pictured him riding toward her through the tall grass, smiling, his golden tooth gleaming with the last light of the setting sun.

Lmao.

Jaime may yet come. She pictured him riding through the morning mists, his golden armor bright in the light of the rising sun. Jaime, if you ever loved me … - Cersei II, ADWD

But it wasn't Jaime who came to Cersei's rescue after her big walk of reflection and self-discovery, was it? No, it was her monster, Robert Strong. :)

+.+.+

Only Daario had been given to the Yunkai'i, a hostage to ensure no harm came to the Yunkish captains. Daario and Hero, Jhogo and Groleo, and three of Hizdahr's kin. By now, surely, all of her hostages would have been released. But …

She wondered if her captain's blades still hung upon the wall beside her bed, waiting for Daario to return and claim them. "I will leave my girls with you," he had said. "Keep them safe for me, beloved." And she wondered how much the Yunkai'i knew about what her captain meant to her. She had asked Ser Barristan that question the afternoon the hostages went forth. "They will have heard the talk," he had replied. "Naharis may even have boasted of Your Grace's … of your great … regard … for him. If you will forgive my saying so, modesty is not one of the captain's virtues. He takes great pride in his … his swordsmanship."

He boasts of bedding me, you mean. But Daario would not have been so foolish as to make such a boast amongst her enemies.

She hung his knives beside her marriage bed? God.

Based on this passage alone, I'm going to guess the Yunkai'i know everything there is to know about Daario and Khaleesi. Good luck, Daario.

+.+.+

It makes no matter. By now the Yunkai'i will be marching home. That was why she had done all that she had done. For peace.

Oh honey, wait until you hear what grandpa's been up to.

+.+.+

She turned back the way she'd come, to where Dragonstone rose above the grasslands like a clenched fist. It looks so close. I've been walking for hours, yet it still looks as if I could reach out and touch it. It was not too late to go back. There were fish in the spring-fed pool by Drogon's cave. She had caught one her first day there, she might catch more. And there would be scraps, charred bones with bits of flesh still on them, the remnants of Drogon's kills.

No, Dany told herself. If I look back I am lost. 

Good Khaleesi. Keep walking, don't turn back.

+.+.+

It was quiet on her sea. When the wind blew the grass would sigh as the stalks brushed against each other, whispering in a tongue that only gods could understand.

And Bran.

+.+.+

Once she came upon a rat drinking from the stream, but it fled when she appeared, scurrying between the stalks to vanish in the high grass. 

Those things are hard to catch.

+.+.+

Sometimes she heard birds singing. The sound made her belly rumble, but she had no nets to snare them with, and so far she had not come on any nests. Once I dreamed of flying, she thought, and now I've flown, and dream of stealing eggs. That made her laugh. "Men are mad and gods are madder," she told the grass, and the grass murmured its agreement.

Hoo boy, I'm desperately searching for a different interpretation of this passage besides the obvious, but I'm not coming up with much.

"Alas," Xaro sobbed, "that was not the word I meant."

"Would you ask a mother to sell one of her children?"

"Whyever not? They can always make more. Mothers sell their children every day." - Daenerys V, ACOK

x

A king must have an heir. - Catelyn II, ASOS

I'll let you reach your own conclusions.

+.+.+

Thrice that day she caught sight of Drogon. Once he was so far off that he might have been an eagle, slipping in and out of distant clouds, but Dany knew the look of him by now, even when he was no more than a speck.

An eagle! Drogon's an eagle!

Something was moving atop one of them, he saw. A dragon, but which one? At this distance, it could as easily have been an eagle. A very big eagle. - Tyrion II, TWOW

Love when we draw that comparison.

Then a sudden gust of cold made his fur stand up, and the air thrilled to the sound of wings. As he lifted his eyes to the ice-white mountain heights above, a shadow plummeted out of the sky. A shrill scream split the air. He glimpsed blue-grey pinions spread wide, shutting out the sun . . . - Jon VII, ACOK

Excited to see where this might be going.

"Look," she said, pointing at the sky with her frog spear, "an eagle."

Bran lifted his head and saw it, its grey wings spread and still as it floated on the wind. He followed it with his eyes as it circled higher, wondering what it would be like to soar about the world so effortless. Better than climbing, even. He tried to reach the eagle, to leave his stupid crippled body and rise into the sky to join it, the way he joined with Summer. The greenseers could do it. I should be able to do it too. He tried and tried, until the eagle vanished in the golden haze of the afternoon. "It's gone," he said, disappointed.

"We'll see others," said Meera. "They live up here."

"I suppose." - Bran II, ASOS

+.+.+

The second time he passed before the sun, his black wings spread, and the world darkened. 

Lightbringer brings equal darkness and light.

He slipped Lightbringer into its scabbard, and the world darkened once again, as if the sun had gone behind a cloud. - Jon III, ADWD

And when I say light, what I really mean is fire.

+.+.+

The last time he flew right above her, so close she could hear the sound of his wings. For half a heartbeat Dany thought that he was hunting her, but he flew on without taking any notice of her and vanished somewhere in the east. Just as well, she thought.

It's just like the Starks and their direwolves!

You might have noticed Drogon shows little interest in assisting Khaleesi when she's pretending to care about Meereen.

+.+.+

Do they fear me dead? I flew off on a dragon's back. Will they think he ate me? She wondered if Hizdahr was still king. His crown had come from her, could he hold it in her absence? He wanted Drogon dead. I heard him. "Kill it," he screamed, "kill the beast," and the look upon his face was lustful. And Strong Belwas had been on his knees, heaving and shuddering. Poison. It had to be poison. The honeyed locusts. Hizdahr urged them on me, but Belwas ate them all. She had made Hizdahr her king, taken him into her bed, opened the fighting pits for him, he had no reason to want her dead.

Amazing, right? Khaleesi is more rational than Barry while half delirious.

+.+.+

She had made Hizdahr her king, taken him into her bed, opened the fighting pits for him, he had no reason to want her dead. Yet who else could it have been? Reznak, her perfumed seneschal? The Yunkai'i? The Sons of the Harpy?

Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. 

How stupid do you have to be to not understand this? How did they pass any class requiring the study of literature?

Anyway, there's levels to this that I never put together.

Who poisoned the locusts? Who could it have been? Off in the distance, a wolf howled.

<- The Queen's Hand

Skahaz was clad in his familiar garb of pleated black skirt, greaves, and muscled breastplate. The brazen mask beneath his arm was new—a wolf's head with lolling tongue.

+.+.+

She dreamed. All her cares fell away from her, and all her pains as well, and she seemed to float upward into the sky. She was flying once again, spinning, laughing, dancing, as the stars wheeled around her and whispered secrets in her ear. "To go north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward, you must go back. To touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow."

"Quaithe?" Dany called. "Where are you, Quaithe?"

Then she saw. Her mask is made of starlight.

"Remember who you are, Daenerys," the stars whispered in a woman's voice. "The dragons know. Do you?"

Notice how Khaleesi is hallucinating, and floating in the clouds long before berries enter the picture?

Let me tell you, people struggle with the order of events in this chapter.

There's no comparison to be made between the effects of drinking whatever Mirri Maz Duur gave her, and the berries in this chapter, because THEY HAVEN'T BEEN CONSUMED YET.

"To go north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward, you must go back. To touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow."

I've yet to see an interpretation better than the following:

To go north, you must journey south -> Sansa.

To reach the west, you must go east -> Arya.

To go forward, you must go back -> Bran.

To touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow -> Jon.

+.+.+

The next morning she woke stiff and sore and aching, with ants crawling on her arms and legs and face. When she realized what they were, she kicked aside the stalks of dry brown grass that had served as her bed and blanket and struggled to her feet. She had bites all over her, little red bumps, itchy and inflamed. Where did all the ants come from? Dany brushed them from her arms and legs and belly. She ran a hand across her stubbly scalp where her hair had burned away, and felt more ants on her head, and one crawling down the back of her neck. She knocked them off and crushed them under her bare feet. There were so many …

It turned out that their anthill was on the other side of her wall. She wondered how the ants had managed to climb over it and find her. To them these tumbledown stones must loom as huge as the Wall of Westeros. The biggest wall in all the world, her brother Viserys used to say, as proud as if he'd built it himself.

Easy to mistake those ants for wights. Almost a little too easy.

Unfortunately for Khaleesi, George has been consistent when it comes to ants.

The gaunt outlines of huge catapults and monstrous wooden cranes stood sentry up there, like the skeletons of great birds, and among them walked men in black as small as ants. - Jon III, AGOT

x

Soldiers crawled over the city walls like ants with torches, and crowded the hoardings that had sprouted from the ramparts. - Sansa IV, ACOK

x

He watched as a swarming mass of riders charged a shield wall, astride horses no larger than ants. - Jon VII, ACOK

x

 Across the river the south shore was black with men and horses, stirring like angry ants as they caught sight of the approaching ships. - Davos III, ACOK

x

"An ant who hears the words of a king may not comprehend what he is saying," Melisandre said, "and all men are ants before the fiery face of god. - Davos V, ASOS

x

Around the walls the hosts of Lords Declarant were stirring, emerging from their tents like ants from an anthill. If only they were truly ants, she thought, we could step on them and crush them. - Alayne I, AFFC

x

From on high their garrons looked no larger than ants, and Jon could not tell one ranger from another. - Jon VI, ADWD

It's the people of Westeros.

+.+.+

Dragonstone was still visible above the grasslands. It looks so close. I must be leagues away by now, but it looks as if I could be back in an hour.

No! Don't look back.

+.+.+

The sun was only just coming up. 

[...]

She wanted to lie back down, close her eyes, and give herself up to sleep. No. I must keep going. The stream. Just follow the stream.

Tired. So tired.

"I'm sad." She yawned again. "And tired. So tired."

Tired or sick? - Tyrion XII, ADWD

If you think the fatigue is simply Khaleesi being hungry and walking too much in the sun, I want you to think back on Arya's travels in ACOK, and tell me if it feels the same.

+.+.+

It would not do to walk the wrong way and lose her stream. "My friend," she said aloud. "If I stay close to my friend I won't get lost." She would have slept beside the water if she dared, but there were animals who came down to the stream to drink at night. She had seen their tracks. Dany would make a poor meal for a wolf or lion, but even a poor meal was better than none.

Is that a second wolf? And a lion!

What's with all the ominous wolves?

+.+.+

Dany cupped her hands to drink. The water made her belly cramp, but cramps were easier to bear than thirst.

Uh oh! Cramps!

Yezzan's other slaves had refused to go near the overseer once the cramps began, so it was left to Tyrion to keep him warm and bring him drinks. - Tyrion XI, ADWD

And still no berries.

+.+.+

As she walked, she tapped her thigh with the pitmaster's whip.

x

The stream bent this way and that, and Dany followed, beating time upon her leg with the whip, trying not to think about how far she had to go, or the pounding in her head, or her empty belly. 

x

 Her whip slapped softly against her thigh, wap wap wap. 

What is this? Trying to tame herself or something?

+.+.+

One step at a time, and the stream would see her home.

↓

Every step brought the Red Keep nearer. Every step brought her closer to her son and her salvation. - Cersei II, ADWD

x

She turned back the way she'd come, to where Dragonstone rose above the grasslands like a clenched fist. It looks so close. I've been walking for hours, yet it still looks as if I could reach out and touch it. 

↓

Cersei looked behind her. She could still see the great dome and seven crystal towers of the Great Sept of Baelor atop the hill. Have I really come such a little way? - Cersei II, ADWD

This is so funny.

+.+.+

Just past midday she came upon a bush growing by the stream, its twisted limbs covered with hard green berries. Dany squinted at them suspiciously, then plucked one from a branch and nibbled at it. Its flesh was tart and chewy, with a bitter aftertaste that seemed familiar to her. "In the khalasar, they used berries like these to flavor roasts," she decided. Saying it aloud made her more certain of it. Her belly rumbled, and Dany found herself picking berries with both hands and tossing them into her mouth.

Okay! After the fever, after the fatigue, after the cramps, and after the delirium comes the berries.

Bullshit. She had cramps before the berries. I don't know how you miss that.

Reading commentary on this chapter drove me insane. I'm not denying she's had a miscarriage, but why are people so insistent she doesn't also have the pale mare? It's not like she's going to die, what does it matter?

"Yezzan must live. Or we all die with him. The pale mare does not carry off every rider. The master will recover." - Tyrion XI, ADWD

She'll survive. She'll live. Everything will be okay.

Honestly, when she's this deluded about her own invincibility and ancestry,

"I am the blood of the dragon," Dany reminded him. "Have you ever seen a dragon with the flux?" Viserys had oft claimed that Targaryens were untroubled by the pestilences that afflicted common men, and so far as she could tell, it was true. She could remember being cold and hungry and afraid, but never sick. - Daenerys VI, ADWD

When she's been promised a mount to dread,

three mounts must you ride . . . one to bed (Silver) and one to dread (Pale Mare) and one to love (Drogon) - Daenerys IV, ACOK

And when Quaithe warns her of what's to come,

"No. Hear me, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and griffin, the sun's son and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal." - Daenerys II, ADWD

SHE'S PROBABLY GOING TO GET THE PALE MARE.

+.+.+

An hour later, her stomach began to cramp so badly that she could not go on. She spent the rest of that day retching up green slime. 

Slime.

His shit had turned to brown slime streaked with blood … - Tyrion XI, ADWD

Vomiting is obviously a symptom of dysentery. It's also possible the berries were inedible.

Either way it doesn't matter, she has the pale mare.

+.+.+

In Westeros the dead of House Targaryen were given to the flames, but who would light her pyre here? My flesh will feed the wolves and carrion crows, she thought sadly, and worms will burrow through my womb. 

THREE? Three big bad wolves?

+.+.+

Sunset found her squatting in the grass, groaning. Every stool was looser than the one before, and smelled fouler. By the time the moon came up she was shitting brown water. The more she drank, the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew, and her thirst sent her crawling to the stream to suck up more water.

Those afflicted by the pale mare were always thirsty, drinking gallons between their shits. - Tyrion XI, ADWD

x

"The pale mare," the man told Sweets.

What a surprise, Tyrion thought. Who could have guessed? Aside from any man with a nose and me with half of one. Yezzan was burning with fever, squirming fitfully in a pool of his own excrement. His shit had turned to brown slime streaked with blood … and it fell to Yollo and Penny to wipe his yellow bottom clean. - Tyrion XI, ADWD

+.+.+

She dreamt of her dead brother.

Viserys looked just as he had the last time she'd seen him. His mouth was twisted in anguish, his hair was burnt, and his face was black and smoking where the molten gold had run down across his brow and cheeks and into his eyes.

"You are dead," Dany said.

Murdered. Though his lips never moved, somehow she could hear his voice, whispering in her ear. You never mourned me, sister. It is hard to die unmourned.

"I loved you once."

Once, he said, so bitterly it made her shudder. You were supposed to be my wife, to bear me children with silver hair and purple eyes, to keep the blood of the dragon pure. I took care of you. I taught you who you were. I fed you. I sold our mother's crown to keep you fed.

"You hurt me. You frightened me."

Only when you woke the dragon. I loved you.

"You sold me. You betrayed me."

No. You were the betrayer. You turned against me, against your own blood. They cheated me. Your horsey husband and his stinking savages. They were cheats and liars. They promised me a golden crown and gave me this. He touched the molten gold that was creeping down his face, and smoke rose from his finger.

"You could have had your crown," Dany told him. "My sun-and-stars would have won it for you if only you had waited."

I waited long enough. I waited my whole life. I was their king, their rightful king. They laughed at me.

I don't care enough to comment on any of this, but I will point out Khaleesi hearing his voice is turning into a disturbing trend.

Westeros. Home. But if she left, what would happen to her city? Meereen was never your city, her brother's voice seemed to whisper. Your cities are across the sea. Your Seven Kingdoms, where your enemies await you. You were born to serve them blood and fire. - Daenerys III, ADWD

Mad.

+.+.+

Do you want to wake the dragon, you stupid little whore? Drogo's khalasar was mine. I bought them from him, a hundred thousand screamers. I paid for them with your maidenhead.

"You never understood. Dothraki do not buy and sell. They give gifts and receive them. If you had waited …"

I did wait. For my crown, for my throne, for you. All those years, and all I ever got was a pot of molten gold. Why did they give the dragon's eggs to you? They should have been mine. If I'd had a dragon, I would have taught the world the meaning of our words. Viserys began to laugh, until his jaw fell away from his face, smoking, and blood and molten gold ran from his mouth.

Don't worry, it's not like Khaleesi is ever influenced by Viserys.

His anger was a terrible thing when roused. Viserys called it "waking the dragon." - Daenerys I, AGOT

↓

Daenerys pushed her hair back. "Find these cowards for me. Find them, so that I might teach the Harpy's Sons what it means to wake the dragon." - Daenerys I, ADWD

x

The Usurper's hired knives were close behind them, he insisted, though Dany had never seen one. - Daenerys I, AGOT

↓

The narrow sea was often stormy, and Dany had crossed it half a hundred times as a girl, running from one Free City to the next half a step ahead of the Usurper's hired knives. - Daenerys I, ASOS

x

For centuries the Targaryens had married brother to sister, since Aegon the Conqueror had taken his sisters to bride. The line must be kept pure, Viserys had told her a thousand times; theirs was the kingsblood, the golden blood of old Valyria, the blood of the dragon. Dragons did not mate with the beasts of the field, and Targaryens did not mingle their blood with that of lesser men. Yet now Viserys schemed to sell her to a stranger, a barbarian. - Daenerys I, AGOT

↓

"I am the blood of the dragon," Dany reminded him. "Have you ever seen a dragon with the flux?" Viserys had oft claimed that Targaryens were untroubled by the pestilences that afflicted common men, and so far as she could tell, it was true. She could remember being cold and hungry and afraid, but never sick. - Daenerys VI, ADWD

+.+.+

When she woke, gasping, her thighs were slick with blood.

For a moment she did not realize what it was. The world had just begun to lighten, and the tall grass rustled softly in the wind. No, please, let me sleep some more. I'm so tired. She tried to burrow back beneath the pile of grass she had torn up when she went to sleep. Some of the stalks felt wet. Had it rained again? She sat up, afraid that she had soiled herself as she slept. When she brought her fingers to her face, she could smell the blood on them. Am I dying? Then she saw the pale crescent moon, floating high above the grass, and it came to her that this was no more than her moon blood.

If she had not been so sick and scared, that might have come as a relief. Instead she began to shiver violently. She rubbed her fingers through the dirt, and grabbed a handful of grass to wipe between her legs. The dragon does not weep. She was bleeding, but it was only woman's blood. The moon is still a crescent, though. How can that be? She tried to remember the last time she had bled. The last full moon? The one before? The one before that? No, it cannot have been so long as that. "I am the blood of the dragon," she told the grass, aloud.

Once, the grass whispered back, until you chained your dragons in the dark.

[...]

Her belly was empty, her feet sore and blistered, and it seemed to her that the cramping had grown worse. Her guts were full of writhing snakes biting at her bowels. She scooped up a handful of mud and water in trembling hands. By midday the water would be tepid, but in the chill of dawn it was almost cool and helped her keep her eyes open. As she splashed her face, she saw fresh blood on her thighs. The ragged hem of her undertunic was stained with it. The sight of so much red frightened her. Moon blood, it's only my moon blood, but she did not remember ever having such a heavy flow. Could it be the water? If it was the water, she was doomed. She had to drink or die of thirst.

Khaleesi doesn't currently know left from right, but I'll give her the benefit of the doubt here. It probably has been months, and that would indicate she's currently miscarrying Daario's baby. Yes, Daario's. Not Hizdahr's. Daario's baby. It's not up for debate.

Reznak mo Reznak bowed and beamed. "Magnificence, every day you grow more beautiful. I think the prospect of your wedding has given you a glow. Oh, my shining queen!" - Daenerys VII, ADWD

x

Melisandre had thrown back her cowl and shrugged out of the smothering robe. Beneath, she was naked, and huge with child. Swollen breasts hung heavy against her chest, and her belly bulged as if near to bursting. "Gods preserve us," he whispered, and heard her answering laugh, deep and throaty. Her eyes were hot coals, and the sweat that dappled her skin seemed to glow with a light of its own. Melisandre shone. - Davos II, ACOK

What does this mean for the future? Nothing. She's never having a baby, the dragons will always be her children.

Love the shivering by the way.

+.+.+

"Drogon killed a little girl. Her name was … her name …" Dany could not recall the child's name. That made her so sad that she would have cried if all her tears had not been burned away. "I will never have a little girl. I was the Mother of Dragons."

Aye, the grass said, but you turned against your children.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Hazzea, Hazzea, it rhymes with Himalaya! You must remember the name, you fucking hypocrite.

Dany listened quietly, her face still. When he was done, she said, "What was the name of the old weaver?"

[...]

"Let us say Elza. Here is our ruling. From the girls, you shall have nothing. It was Elza who taught them weaving, not you. From you, the girls shall have a new loom, the finest coin can buy. That is for forgetting the name of the old woman." - Daenerys I, ADWD

+.+.+

In the stream or out of it, I must keep walking. Water flows downhill. The stream will take me to the river, and the river will take me home.

Except it wouldn't, not truly.

Meereen was not her home, and never would be. It was a city of strange men with strange gods and stranger hair, of slavers wrapped in fringed tokars, where grace was earned through whoring, butchery was art, and dog was a delicacy. Meereen would always be the Harpy's city, and Daenerys could not be a harpy.

+.+.+

Never, said the grass, in the gruff tones of Jorah Mormont. You were warned, Your Grace. Let this city be, I said. Your war is in Westeros, I told you.

The voice was no more than a whisper, yet somehow Dany felt that he was walking just behind her. My bear, she thought, my old sweet bear, who loved me and betrayed me. She had missed him so. She wanted to see his ugly face, to wrap her arms around him and press herself against his chest, but she knew that if she turned around Ser Jorah would be gone. "I am dreaming," she said. "A waking dream, a walking dream. I am alone and lost."

Lol.

+.+.+

Lost, because you lingered, in a place that you were never meant to be, murmured Ser Jorah, as softly as the wind. Alone, because you sent me from your side.

[...]

I gave you good counsel. Save your spears and swords for the Seven Kingdoms, I told you. Leave Meereen to the Meereenese and go west, I said. You would not listen.

I know this doesn't need to be said, but I'll say it anyway. There's no glass candle, there's no sorcery or magic brewing.

Quaithe, Viserys, and Jorah aren't talking to her. She's hallucinating, but the most important thing here is that Khaleesi is hearing what she wants to hear. She's talking to her innermost self.

+.+.+

You took Meereen, he told her, yet still you lingered.

"To be a queen."

You are a queen, her bear said. In Westeros.

"It is such a long way," she complained. "I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl."

+.+.+

No. You are the blood of the dragon. The whispering was growing fainter, as if Ser Jorah were falling farther behind. Dragons plant no trees. Remember that. Remember who you are, what you were made to be. Remember your words.

"Fire and Blood," Daenerys told the swaying grass.

+.+.+

From the corner of her eye Dany saw the grass move again, off to her right. The grass swayed and bowed low, as if before a king, but no king appeared to her.

Hizdahr, you mean? Am I forgetting someone?

+.+.+

The world was green and empty. The world was green and silent. The world was yellow, dying.

Through the grass came a soft silvery tinkling.

Bells, Dany thought, smiling, remembering Khal Drogo, her sun-and-stars, and the bells he braided into his hair. When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, when the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves, when my womb quickens again and I bear a living child, Khal Drogo will return to me.

Everywhere you look, dry dying grass.

I came across an interesting theory when researching this chapter. Mirri Maz Duur's words weren't a prophecy, but you could make a few connections to what's currently happening.

When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east.

Quentyn Martell dying in Meereen.

When the seas go dry.

The change of seasons. The dying grass in the Dothraki Sea.

Mountains blow in the wind like leaves

Potentially something related to Mother of Mountains.

When my womb quickens again and I bear a living child, Khal Drogo will return to me.

Potentially something related to Womb of the World, and Drogon. Or maybe the miscarriage.

I'm guessing Khal Drogo returning to her is figurative, and means Khaleesi finally embracing being a powerful khal and warlord. I bet she even picks up a few bells along the way!

We'll have to wait and see if the upcoming Vaes Dothrak storyline fits with the above.

+.+.+

But none of those things had happened. Bells, Dany thought again. Her bloodriders had found her. "Aggo," she whispered. "Jhogo. Rakharo." Might Daario have come with them?

Silly Khaleesi, bells don't sing happy songs.

Remember when Game of Thrones totally botched this, and now a bunch of desperate morons are clinging to the idea that the climax of A Song of Ice and Fire is JON CONNINGTON burning down King's Landing?

"The thunder of his hooves!" the others chorused.

"As swift as the wind he rides, and behind him his khalasar covers the earth, men without number, with arakhs shining in their hands like blades of razor grass. Fierce as a storm this prince will be. His enemies will tremble before him, and their wives will weep tears of blood and rend their flesh in grief. The bells in his hair will sing his coming, and the milk men in the stone tents will fear his name." The old woman trembled and looked at Dany almost as if she were afraid. "The prince is riding, and he shall be the stallion who mounts the world." - Daenerys V, AGOT

Hilarious.

+.+.+

Dany watched him go. When the sound of his hooves had faded away to silence, she began to shout. She called until her voice was hoarse … and Drogon came, snorting plumes of smoke. The grass bowed down before him.

Oh right, him.

The grass swayed and bowed low, as if before a king, but no king appeared to her. 

Her real king.

Drogon's finally paying attention to her. Must mean fire and blood is on the mind.

+.+.+

Dany leapt onto his back. She stank of blood and sweat and fear, but none of that mattered. "To go forward I must go back," she said. Her bare legs tightened around the dragon's neck. She kicked him, and Drogon threw himself into the sky. Her whip was gone, so she used her hands and feet and turned him north by east, the way the scout had gone. Drogon went willingly enough; perhaps he smelled the rider's fear.

No, no! I think Meereen's the other way! You got yourself turned around.

You thought she'd turn back to Dragonstone, didn't you? Nahhh. That's not home, that's not where Khaleesi wants to be.

+.+.+

A vast herd of horses appeared below them. There were riders too, a score or more, but they turned and fled at the first sight of the dragon.

[...]

Soon one horse began to lag behind the others. The dragon descended on him, roaring, and all at once the poor beast was aflame, yet somehow he kept on running, screaming with every step, until Drogon landed on him and broke his back. Dany clutched the dragon's neck with all her strength to keep from sliding off.

Clouds seen from above. Horses small as ants thundering through the grass. A silver moon, almost close enough to touch. 

↓ 

I could try eating ants. The little yellow ones were too small to provide much in the way of nourishment, but there were red ants in the grass, and those were bigger.

↓ 

Dany, starved, slid off his back and ate with him, ripping chunks of smoking meat from the dead horse with bare, burned hands.

Yeah, for sure, they totally represent wights.

+.+.+

Dany, starved, slid off his back and ate with him, ripping chunks of smoking meat from the dead horse with bare, burned hands. In Meereen I was a queen in silk, nibbling on stuffed dates and honeyed lamb, she remembered. What would my noble husband think if he could see me now? Hizdahr would be horrified, no doubt. But Daario …

Daario would laugh, carve off a hunk of horsemeat with his arakh, and squat down to eat beside her.

I don't know, looks like the bride of fire already found a king to eat with.

+.+.+

As the western sky turned the color of a blood bruise, she heard the sound of approaching horses. Dany rose, wiped her hands on her ragged undertunic, and went to stand beside her dragon.

That was how Khal Jhaqo found her, when half a hundred mounted warriors emerged from the drifting smoke.

What a reunion. What an ending! Can't wait to see what happens next.

If I look back I am lost. "It was a cruel fate," Dany said, "yet not so cruel as Mago's will be. I promise you that, by the old gods and the new, by the lamb god and the horse god and every god that lives. I swear it by the Mother of Mountains and the Womb of the World. Before I am done with them, Mago and Ko Jhaqo will plead for the mercy they showed Eroeh." - Daenerys IX, AGOT

x

Dany commanded Ser Jorah and the warriors of her khas to guard the entrance and make certain no one set the building afire while they were still inside. – Daenerys VII, AGOT

Final thoughts:

Lots to say.

Let's start off with the opening and closing (excluding the epilogue) chapters.

AGOT

Prologue: ice threat introduction.

Final chapter: fire threat introduction.

ACOK

Prologue: cold-hearted King Stannis with his dying maester.

Final chapter: kindhearted King Bran with his dying maester.

ASOS

Prologue: Cursed snowflakes, and Jon Snow.

Sansa VII: Drifting snowflakes, and Jon Snow.

AFFC

Prologue: Pig boy Pate.

Samwell V: Pig boy Pate, back from the dead.

ADWD:

Prologue: Starving, barely alive, slightly mad Varamyr wanders a cold barren land, talking to the elements while narrating his life, then he dies and is reborn as his beast.

Daenerys X: Yup. Same.

Birds were the worst, to hear him tell it. "Men were not meant to leave the earth. Spend too much time in the clouds and you never want to come back down again. I know skinchangers who've tried hawks, owls, ravens. Even in their own skins, they sit moony, staring up at the bloody blue. - Prologue, ADWD

Ha!

+.+.+

Next I'll make a few fun predictions I didn't have the opportunity to make anywhere else in this post:

Drogon kills Viserion (Daenerys kills Aegon), Rhaegal is shot with a scorpion in the eye (Jonnel One-Eye things), and Bran's going to handle Drogon somehow.

Kind of like the show, right? Kind of.

+.+.+

Lastly, I've been waiting for @agentrouka-blog to make a more eloquent post regarding this topic, but my peer pressure has not worked.

Let me steal her thoughts and quickly say the reason the theory that Daenerys will be given a redemption arc after burning King's Landing is such dog shit, is because Meereen is supposed to be the redemption arc. She violently destroys Slaver's Bay, creates a power vacuum, but is given the opportunity to stay, rule, and make it right. To her credit, she does. For nine chapters. Then she chooses fire and blood.

Why would the author do it all over again in Westeros? Meereen was the second chance. She failed.

Goodbye, Khaleesi.

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[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

TWOW: Tyrion I (summary)

Don't worry, it will be over quickly.

Chapter opens with Tyrion and Brown Ben Plumm playing cyvasse and listening to the Yunkish trebuchets throwing corpses over the walls. They have a lively conversation, with Tyrion discussing how you can tell which trebuchet is launching based on its sound. Tyrion seems to be in much better spirits and back to his old, insufferably witty self.

x

For the second chapter we joined Tyrion playing cyvasse with Brown Ben, while they wait for 'Ser Grandfather's' army to sally forth and try to break the siege of Meereen.  These two share banter with other of Brown Ben's staff about what's the worst thing about waiting for the battle to start, punctuated by the sound of the trebuchets as they fling more plague corpses into Meereen.  

Oh boy, I can hardly wait to read this. I can already feel the laughter bubbling up inside of me.

+.+.+

Brown Ben muses that the two dragons are wild cards which could attack anyything on either side during the battle. 

🚩🚩🚩

Uh oh! UH OH.

That is the second time that prospect has been mentioned, essentially guaranteeing it will happen.

They will come, Ser Barristan might have said. The noise will bring them, the shouts and screams, the scent of blood. That will draw them to the battlefield, just as the roar from Daznak's Pit drew Drogon to the scarlet sands. But when they come, will they know one side from the other? Somehow he did not think so. - The Queen's Hands, ADWD

Can't wait to hear the excuses when the Unsullied and "freedmen" are caught in the crosshairs.

+.+.+

Tyrion (while slowly beating him at cyvasse) floats the idea of Brown Ben returning to Dany’s service and freeing Daario and the other hostages. Brown Ben seems very concerned with the money the Yunkish lords are wasting and doesn’t immediately reject the idea. 

x

They assume Dany will return on the third dragon and speculate about rescuing the three hostages - Daario, the eunuch and the horse boy - and delivering them to Meereen thereby changing sides a second time but claiming that they only pretended to change sides before so as to learn the Yunkish plans.  

Of course he's winning.

We learn two things:

Daario is still alive. No trebuchet.

Tyrion and Brown Ben are probably going to rescue him.

+.+.+

Tyrion thinks any skepticism about this will be outweighed by gratitude that he killed Dany's most dangerous enemy - Tywin. 

How hard will I laugh when Tyrion Lannister talks circles around this girl, and eventually convinces her to accept him as an ally? God, how embarrassing.

Anyway, she seems poised to misidentify the lion from Quaithe's warning, just as we all anticipated.

+.+.+

Someone spots sails on the horizon and they think the Volantenes have arrived, but Jorah Mormont spots the Krakens on the sails and says they are also flying dragon banners.

x

Just as Tyrion is about to win the cyvasse game Jorah bursts in with news of black sails in the bay (ironborn ships) flying dragon banners.

🚩🚩🚩

Everyone stop everything, it's DRAGON BANNERS.

Tyrion I dramatically ends with Victarion's fleet entering the battle, proudly displaying dragon banners atop their masts. It's like he already knows her love language.

Why might this be important?

We must go back!

Glowing like sunset, a red sword was raised in the hand of a blue-eyed king who cast no shadow. A cloth dragon swayed on poles amidst a cheering crowd. From a smoking tower, a great stone beast took wing, breathing shadow fire. . . . mother of dragons, slayer of lies . . - Daenerys IV, ACOK

This vision from the House of the Undying is almost always assigned to Aegon VI Targaryen.

Why?

"A dead man in the prow of a ship, a blue rose, a banquet of blood . . . what does any of it mean, Khaleesi? A mummer's dragon, you said. What is a mummer's dragon, pray?"

"A cloth dragon on poles," Dany explained. "Mummers use them in their follies, to give the heroes something to fight." - Daenerys V, ACOK

Because of Daenerys.

Despite mummers never making an appearance in that chapter or having any connection to the vision, Daenerys concludes that a cloth dragon swaying on poles is referencing stunts performed by mummers.

This becomes even more convoluted when books later Quaithe actually does warn Daenerys about a mummer's dragon.

"No. Hear me, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and griffin, the sun's son and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal." - Daenerys II, ADWD

As a result, many connect Quaithe's mummer's dragon to the cloth dragon swaying on poles from the House of the Undying. It's all Aegon, everything is Aegon.

I don't want to get too deep into this, because we've already covered Quaithe and the HotU extensively, but I will say I think there's a lot of problems here.

Reaching a conclusion that largely relies on Daenerys' interpretation of any vision is a bad idea.

I believe the "mother of dragons, slayer of lies" group of visions are interconnected through the concept of Azor Ahai being a lie, which has nothing to do with Aegon.

The author consistently portrays engaging in a violent pursuit of the Iron Throne as inherently immoral, and that will have to include Aegon (I'm sorry). It's hard to imagine a scenario where common folk rally to an invading army causing mass devastation, and starvation.

The vision perfectly complements Daenerys' cult of personality, and messianic complex.

Finally, and this is the most crucial thing to note, anyone following the story closely should recognize it's Daenerys who is fixated on the idea of people supporting her cause under the symbol of her dragon banners.

"They are your people, and they love you well," Magister Illyrio said amiably. "In holdfasts all across the realm, men lift secret toasts to your health while women sew dragon banners and hide them against the day of your return from across the water." - Daenerys I, AGOT

x

Dany rode close beside him. "Still," she said, "the common people are waiting for him. Magister Illyrio says they are sewing dragon banners and praying for Viserys to return from across the narrow sea to free them." - Daenerys III, AGOT

x

"When the day comes that you raise your banners, half of Westeros will be with you," Whitebeard promised. "Your brother Rhaegar is still remembered, with great love." - Daenerys II, ASOS

x

"Tell me, then—when he touched a man on the shoulder with his sword, what did he say? 'Go forth and kill the weak'? Or 'Go forth and defend them'? At the Trident, those brave men Viserys spoke of who died beneath our dragon banners—did they give their lives because they believed in Rhaegar's cause, or because they had been bought and paid for?" Dany turned to Mormont, crossed her arms, and waited for an answer. - Daenerys II, ASOS

x

I ought to have a banner sewn, she thought as she led her tattered band up along Astapor's meandering river. She closed her eyes to imagine how it would look: all flowing black silk, and on it the red three-headed dragon of Targaryen, breathing golden flames. A banner such as Rhaegar might have borne. - Daenerys III, ASOS

You are more than welcome to believe that vision is Aegon, there's not a lot of evidence either way, but I'm going to stick with the girl who spends five books fantasizing about dragon banners and the people's adoration.

In conclusion, I don't know if Vic's dragon banners are the cloth dragon banners, but I haven't come across a more convincing alternative.

Final thoughts:

48 down, 1 to go. PRAISE BE.

Next chapter: Barristan II (summary)

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[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

TWOW: Victarion I

My little airhead! ❤️

The Noble Lady was a tub of a ship, as fat and wallowing as the noble ladies of the green lands. Her holds were huge, and Victarion packed them with armed men. With her would sail the other, lesser prizes that the Iron Fleet had taken on its long voyage to Slaver's Bay, a lubberly assortment of cogs, great cogs, carracks, and trading galleys salted here and there with fishing boats. It was a fleet both fat and feeble, promising much in the way of wool and wines and other trade goods and little in the way of danger. Victarion gave the command of it to Wulf One-Ear. "The slavers may shiver when they spy your sails rising from the sea," he told him. "but once they see you plain they will laugh at their fears. Traders and fishers, that's all you are. Any man can see that. Let them get close as they like, but keep your men hidden belowdecks until you are ready. Then close, and board them.

Explain to me how somebody can be stupid when they're so clever in battle. Impossible!

Compare this to Barry's strategy: leaving the protection of the walls and running at them.

Barristan: 0

Vicky: 1

+.+.+

Free the slaves and feed the slavers to the sea, but take the ships. We will have need of every hull to carry us back home.

Victarion wants all the slaves freed, whereas Barry told his men spare them if you can. That's not good enough.

Barristan: 0

Vicky: 2

+.+.+

The warship and the cog parted ways. In the distance the rest of Victarion's famed fleet was raising sail. A ragged cheer went up from the crew of the Iron Victory, and was answered in kind by the men of the Noble Lady.

Nobody cheered for Barry.

Barristan: 0

Vicky: 3

+.+.+

Victarion had given Wulf his best fighters. He envied them. They would be the first to strike a blow, the first to see that look of fear in the foemen's eyes. 

Of course he did! A selfless king.

Meanwhile, Barry's monopolizing all the pit fighters, while simultaneously looking down on them.

Barristan: 0

Vicky: 4

It's a blowout.

+.+.+

All that was done and gone now, though. Victarion would have his due at last. I have the horn, and soon I will have the woman. A woman lovelier than the wife he made me kill.

I'm going to guess Victarion Greyjoy has narrow ideals when it comes to physical attractiveness.

Daenerys is currently emaciated, with minimal hair. I won't endorse whatever thoughts may cross his mind when he eventually sees her, but I can't promise I won't laugh.

+.+.+

Three of them, and strong ones. "Send them to my cabin. I'll want the priest as well." The oarsmen were all big. One was a boy, one a brute, one a bastard's bastard. The Boy had been rowing for less than a year, the Brute for twenty. They had names, but Victarion did not know them. One had come from Lamentation, one from Sparrow Hawk, one from Spider Kiss. He could not be expected to know the names of every thrall who had ever pulled an oar in the Iron Fleet.

Agreed! Ridiculous expectation. If they wanted to be known they should have considered being named Ralf.

+.+.+

Moqorro brought it forth, and the dusky woman lifted up a lantern to give them all a look. In the shifting lantern light the hell-horn seemed to writhe and turn in the priest’s hands like a serpent fighting to escape. 

See how quickly Vicky has Moqorro and the enslaved woman of colour cooperating?

Daenerys needs Vicky, like Jon needs Sansa.

+.+.+

"My brother found this thing on Valyria," Victarion told the thralls. "Think how big the dragon must've been to bear two of these upon his head. Bigger than Vhagar or Meraxes, bigger than Balerion the Black Dread." He took the horn from Moqorro and ran his palm along its curves. "At the Kingsmoot on Old Wyk one of Euron's mutes blew upon this horn. Some of you will remember. It was not a sound that any man who heard it will ever forget." "They say he died," the Boy said, "him who blew the horn." "Aye. The horn was smoking after. The mute had blisters on his lips, and the bird inked across his chest was bleeding. He died the next day. When they cut him open his lungs were black."

We have every reason to question whether Euron actually found this horn in Valyria.

A smile played across Euron's blue lips. "I am the storm, my lord. The first storm, and the last. I have taken the Silence on longer voyages than this, and ones far more hazardous. Have you forgotten? I have sailed the Smoking Sea and seen Valyria."

[...]

"Have you?" the Reader asked, so softly.

Euron's blue smile vanished. "Reader," he said into the quiet, "you would do well to keep your nose in your books." - The Reaver, AFFC

What I didn't notice until now is the striking similarities between the mute's death and when Melisandre killed that eagle.

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

x

His last death had been by fire. I burned. At first, in his confusion, he thought some archer on the Wall had pierced him with a flaming arrow… but the fire had been inside him, consuming him. And the pain… - Prologue, ADWD

vs.

All eyes turned toward the sound. It was one of Euron's mongrels winding the call, a monstrous man with a shaved head. Rings of gold and jade and jet glistened on his arms, and on his broad chest was tattooed some bird of prey, talons dripping blood.

[...]

It was a terrible sound, a wail of pain and fury that seemed to burn the ears. Aeron Damphair covered his, and prayed for the Drowned God to raise a mighty wave and smash the horn to silence, yet still the shriek went on and on. It is the horn of hell, he wanted to scream, though no man would have heard him. The cheeks of the tattooed man were so puffed out they looked about to burst, and the muscles in his chest twitched in a way that it made it seem as if the bird were about to rip free of his flesh and take wing. And now the glyphs were burning brightly, every line and letter shimmering with white fire. - The Drowned Man, AFFC

I don't know what this means.

Does the horn have something to do with R'hllor?

The sound it made … it burned, somehow. As if my bones were on fire, searing my flesh from within. - Victarion I, ADWD

x

"Here it says, 'No mortal man shall sound me and live.'" - Victarion I, ADWD

Looking back, this feels like R'hllor nonsense.

+.+.+

He brushed his hand across one of the red gold bands and the ancient glyph seemed to sing beneath his fingertips. For half a heartbeat he wanted nothing so much as to sound the horn himself.

Am I crazy, or does that read like the horn has a hypnotic grip on him?

+.+.+

Euron was a fool to give me this, it is a precious thing, and powerful. With this I'll win the Seastone Chair, and then the Iron Throne. With this I'll win the world.

Euron is a lot of things, but he's no fool.

He's never giving up the horn if it's in any way useful.

+.+.+

"Claggorn blew the horn thrice and died for it. He was as big as any of you, and strong as me. So strong that he could twist a man's head right off his shoulders with only his bare hands, and yet the horn killed him."

"Cragorn's died, you know."

"Who?"

"The man who blew my dragon horn. When the maester cut him open, his lungs were charred as black as soot." - The Reaver, AFFC

+.+.+

"It will kill us too, then," said the Boy. Victarion did not oft forgive a thrall for talking out of turn, but the Boy was young, no more than twenty, and soon to die besides. He let it pass.

Lol.

One day you will all come to realize Victarion is as entertaining as Cersei, and then you'll all owe me an apology.

+.+.+

"The mute sounded the horn three times. You three will sound it only once. Might be you'll die, might be you won't. All men die. The Iron Fleet is sailing into battle. Many on this very ship will be dead before the sun goes down – stabbed or slashed, gutted, drowned, burned alive – only the Gods know which of us will still be here come the morrow. Sound the horn and live and I'll make free men of you, one or two or all three. I'll give you wives, a bit of land, a ship to sail, thralls of your own. Men will know your names."

Does it actually need to be sounded three times? Is that written anywhere? Are we only doing that because Claggorn did?

+.+.+

"You will sail with me on Iron Victory," he told them, "but you will not join the battle. Boy, you're the youngest – you'll sound the horn first. When the time comes you will blow it long and loud. They say you are strong. Blow the horn until you are too weak to stand, until the last bit of breath has been squeezed from you, until your lungs are burning. Let the freedmen hear you in Meereen, the slavers in Yunkai, the ghosts in Astapor. Let the monkeys shit themselves at the sound when it rolls across the Isle of Cedars. Then pass the horn along to the next man. Do you hear me? Do you know what to do?"

As discussed in the previous chapter, without even factoring in how the dragons (or Victarion?) might react to it, there's a possibility this horn creates a lot of confusion and chaos.

"Listen for my horn," Ser Barristan told them. "If you hear the retreat, fall back. Our walls stand behind us, packed with Brazen Beasts. Our foes dare not come too close, or they will find themselves in crossbow range. If you hear the horn sound advance, advance at once. Make for my standard or the queen's." - Barristan I, TWOW

+.+.+

They left him one by one. The three thralls, and then Moqorro. Victarion would not let him take the hell-horn. "I will keep it here with me, until it is needed." "As you command. Would you have me bleed you?"

Looks like Vicky has gone ahead with horn blood magic.

"Your brother did not sound the horn himself. Nor must you." Moqorro pointed to the band of steel. "Here. 'Blood for fire, fire for blood.' Who blows the hellhorn matters not. The dragons will come to the horn's master. You must claim the horn. With blood." - Victarion I, ADWD

Do you see how he won't let Moqorro have the horn? Something weird is going on, I can feel it.

If he can bleed, does that confirm he's not dead/reanimated?

+.+.+

Victarion seized the dusky woman by the wrist and pulled her to him. "She will do it. Go pray to your red god. Light your fire, and tell me what you see." Moqorro's dark eyes seemed to shine. "I see dragons."

I see dead people.

Final thoughts:

That's not the end of the chapter.

(my phrasing) Thanks for clarifying, lol.

"My horn...dragons..." is giving this:

I fear my Vicky has done something terribly stupid.

It's okay, he'll be fine. Trust the process. Everything is going according to plan. Falling into molten rock with a ring, falling into the ocean with your brother ... same thing.

Next chapter: Tyrion I (summary #1, summary #2)

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[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

TWOW: Mercy (Arya)

She woke with a gasp, not knowing who she was, or where. The smell of blood was heavy in her nostrils… or was that her nightmare, lingering? She had dreamed of wolves again, of running through some dark pine forest with a great pack at her hells, hard on the scent of prey. [...] She took a breath to quiet the howling in her heart, trying to remember more of what she'd dreamt, but most of it had gone already. There had been blood in it, though, and a full moon overhead, and a tree that watched her as she ran.

A full moon, with Bran watching, how sweet.

Allow me to revisit an old theory from AFFC.

In 2014, George confirmed Jeyne Westerling will make an appearance in the prologue of The Winds of Winter. I speculated that it seems highly plausible that the tension-filled escort to Casterly Rock will serve as the focus of that chapter.

In case you weren't here for Jaime VII, AFFC, there is significant emphasis placed on how critical that escort is, and what a disaster it would be if Edmure and/or Jeyne were to escape.

Lord Beric may try to free Edmure before they reach the Golden Tooth. Jaime did not want to have to capture Tully for a third time. - Jaime VII, AFFC

x

"Show them in." At least the girl did not vanish too. - Jaime VII, AFFC

x

When Edmure and the Westerlings departed, four hundred men rode with them; Jaime had doubled the escort again at the last moment. - Jaime VII, AFFC

x

"We don't know where the Blackfish is," Jaime reminded him, "but if he can cut Edmure free, he will."

"That will not happen, my lord." Like most innkeeps, Ser Forley was no man's fool. "Scouts and outriders will screen our march, and we'll fortify our camps by night. I have picked ten men to stay with Tully day and night, my best longbowmen. If he should ride so much as a foot off the road, they will loose so many shafts at him that his own mother would take him for a goose." - Jaime VII, AFFC

x

"Good." Jaime would as lief have Tully reach Casterly Rock safely, but better dead than fled. - Jaime VII, AFFC

x

"—the Young Wolf's widow," Jaime finished, "and twice as dangerous as Edmure if she were ever to escape us." - Jaime VII, AFFC

The problem is, Lady Stoneheart is undermanned and not well positioned to intercept, and the Blackfish is one man against four hundred, so how could Edmure and/or Jeyne possibly escape?

Well, it just so happens that as we progress through Jaime's chapters, we get frequent updates on a certain pack of wolves.

The next day Ser Dermot of the Rainwood returned to the castle, empty-handed. When asked what he'd found, he answered, "Wolves. Hundreds of the bloody beggars." He'd lost two sentries to them. The wolves had come out of the dark to savage them. "Armed men in mail and boiled leather, and yet the beasts had no fear of them. Before he died, Jate said the pack was led by a she-wolf of monstrous size. A direwolf, to hear him tell it. The wolves got in amongst our horse lines too. The bloody bastards killed my favorite bay." - Jaime VII, AFFC

Hundreds of the bloody things!

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

If you are, scroll up, and reread the intro to Arya's first TWOW chapter.

Doesn't it feel like we're being offered a brief glimpse into the events of the prologue?

+.+.+

Half-light filled the room, grey and gloomy. Shivering, she sat up in bed and ran a hand across her scalp. Stubble bristled against her palm. I need to shave before Izembaro sees. Mercy, I'm Mercy, and tonight I'll be raped and murdered. Her true name was Mercedene, but Mercy was all anyone ever called her…

Get it, get it??

"Some call her that. Some call her other things. The Silent Sister. Mother Merciless. The Hangwoman." - Brienne VIII, AFFC

x

"Mycah." Arya stepped away from him. "You don't deserve the gift of mercy." - Arya XIII, ASOS

+.+.+

The air had grown chilly… and a good thing, else she might have slept all day. It would be just like Mercy to sleep through her own rape.

You know how they made Bran emotionally detached, and socially disconnected?

I'm being totally sincere when I say that's how I would describe Arya in this chapter. It's unsettling, and difficult to read.

+.+.+

Dipping a rough cloth, she washed herself head to heel, standing on one leg at a time to scrub her calloused feet. 

At least she's bathing.

If you look hard enough you can still find remnants of Arya.

"Syrio says a water dancer can stand on one toe for hours." Her hands flailed at the air to steady herself. - Eddard V, AGOT

+.+.+

After that she found her razor. A bare scalp helped the wigs fit better, Izembaro claimed.

Arya following in the footsteps of Cersei and Daenerys.

+.+.+

One of her stockings needed mending, she saw as she pulled it up. She would ask the Snapper for help; her own sewing was so wretched that the wardrobe mistress usually took pity on her.

Again, if you look hard enough you can still find remnants of Arya.

+.+.+

Last of all she threw her cloak across her shoulders. It was a real mummer's cloak, purple wool lined in red silk, with a hood to keep the rain off, and three secret pockets too. She'd hid some coins in one of those, an iron key in another, a blade in the last.

What's the key? To the sanctum?

One passage was closed off by a heavy iron door. The priest hung the lantern from a hook, slipped a hand inside his robe, and produced an ornate key. - The Ugly Little Girl, ADWD

If it is, I don't think she's supposed to have one of those.

+.+.+

Most days she preferred to go the long way, down the Ragman's Road along the Outer Harbor, where she had the sea before her and the sky above, and a clear view across the Great Lagoon to the Arsenal and the piney slopes of Sellagoro's Shield. Sailors would hail her as she passed the docks, calling down from the decks of tarry Ibbenese whalers and big-bellied Westerosi cogs. 

Is the harbor your favourite spot, Mercy?

+.+.+

The long way also took her across the Bridge of Eyes with its carved stone faces.

How could this not have something to do with Bran?

+.+.+

She heard a cat yowl plaintively. Braavos was a good city for cats, and they roamed everywhere, especially at night. In the fog all cats are grey, Mercy thought. In the fog all men are killers.

Same in the riverlands.

Behind it sat a woman all in grey - Brienne VIII, AFFC

x

but the woman in grey had eyes only for the pommel - Brienne VIII, AFFC

x

The woman in grey gave no answer. - Brienne VIII, AFFC

x

The woman in grey hissed through her fingers. - Brienne VIII, AFFC

The other girl in grey.

+.+.+

Mercy passed an old man with a lantern walking the other way, and envied him his light. The street was so gloomy she could scarcely see where she was stepping. In the humbler parts of the city, the houses, shops, and warehouses crowded together, leaning on each other like drunken lovers, their upper stories so close that you could step from one balcony to the next. The streets below became dark tunnels where every footfall echoed. The small canals were even more hazardous, since many of the houses that lined them had privies jutting out over the water. 

You'll be fine. I trust you in dark tunnels, child.

+.+.+

Izembaro loved to give the Sealord's speech from The Merchant's Melancholy Daughter, about how "here the last Titan yet stands, astride the stony shoulders of his brothers," but Mercy preferred the scene where the fat merchant shat on the Sealord's head as he passed underneath in his gold-and-purple barge. Only in Braavos could something like that happen, it was said, and only in Braavos would Sealord and sailor alike howl with laughter to see it.

The Merchant's Melancholy Daughter and the Titan had me thinking this is somehow related to Sansa and Littlefinger, but I have no idea how.

+.+.+

When Izembaro had first dubbed himself the King of the Mummers, the company had taken a wicked pleasure in it, savoring the outrage of their rivals from the Dome and the Blue Lantern. Of late, though, Izembaro had begun to take his title too seriously. "He will only play kings now," Marro said, rolling his eyes, "and if the play has no king in it, he would sooner not stage it at all." The Bloody Hand offered two kings, the fat one and the boy. Izembaro would play the fat one. It was not a large part, but he had a fine speech as he lay dying, and a splendid fight with a demonic boar before that.

This play is sounding a bit familiar!

+.+.+

Izembaro was telling everyone that he expected the Gate to be packed to the rafters this evening, despite the fog. "The King of Westeros is sending his envoy to do homage to the King of the Mummers tonight," he told his troupe. "We will not disappoint our fellow monarch."

I doubt Tommen is alive at this point, I'm guessing they haven't received the memo. I could be wrong though.

+.+.+

Every mummer's troupe had to have a dwarf. He [Bobono] was theirs. When he saw Mercy, he gave her a leer. "Oho," he said, "there she is. Is the little girl all ready for her rape?" He smacked his lips.

There's a dwarf in this play! I wonder what role he'll play.

+.+.+

The King of the Mummers ignored the brief commotion. He was still talking, telling the mummers how magnificent they must be. Besides the Westerosi envoy, there would be keyholders in the crowd this evening, and famous courtesans as well. He did not intend for them to leave with a poor opinion of the Gate. 

The Westerosi envoy is Harys Swyft, master of coin, and Cersei Lannister's new (old) lapdog. The keyholders are five officials from the Iron Bank.

That seems like a promising sign for Queen Cersei.

+.+.+

And Bobono's cock was indeed flopping out. It was made to flop out, for the rape. What a hideous thing, Mercy thought as she knelt before the dwarf to fix him. The cock was a foot long and as thick as her arm, big enough to be seen from the highest balcony. The dyer had done a poor job with the leather, though; the thing was a mottled pink and white, with a bulbous head the color of a plum. Mercy pushed it back into Bobono's breeches and laced him back up. "Mercy," he sang as she tied him tight, "Mercy, Mercy, come to my room tonight and make a man of me." "I'll make a eunuch of you if you keep unlacing yourself just so I'll fiddle with your crotch." "We were meant to be together, Mercy," Bobono insisted. "Look, we're just the same height."

Even his manhood was ugly, thick and veined, with a bulbous purple head. - Sansa III, ASOS

This play follows canon better than Game of Thrones.

+.+.+

He is teasing me, Mercy thought. He's not drunk tonight, he knows the show perfectly well. "We are doing Phario's new Bloody Hand, in honor of the envoy from the Seven Kingdoms." "Now I recall." Bobono lowered his voice to a sinister croak. "The seven-faced god has cheated me," he said. "My noble sire he made of purest gold, and gold he made my siblings, boy and girl. But I am formed of darker stuff, of bones and blood and clay, twisted into this rude shape you see before you." With that, he grabbed at her chest, fumbling for a nipple. "You have no titties. How can I rape a girl with no titties?" She caught his nose between her thumb and forefinger and twisted. "You'll have no nose until you get your hands off me." "Owwwww," the dwarf squealed, releasing her. "I'll grow titties in a year or two." Mercy rose, to tower over the little man. "But you'll never grow another nose. You think of that, before you touch me there." Bobono rubbed his tender nose. "There's no need to get so shy. I'll be raping you soon enough." "Not until the second act."

"I always give Wendeyne's titties a nice squeeze when I rape her in The Anguish of the Archon," the dwarf complained. "She likes it, and the pit does too. You have to please the pit."

Honestly, what compelled George R. R. Martin to write this?

+.+.+

Daena recognized some Gate regulars in the crowd, and pointed them out for her; the dyer Dellono with his pinched white face and mottled purple hands, Galeo the sausage-maker in his greasy leather apron, tall Tomarro with his pet rat on his shoulder. "Tomarro best not let Galeo see that rat," Daena warned. "That's the only meat he puts in them sausages, I hear." Mercy covered her mouth and laughed.

Hide the rat!

Not that it matters, but I'm a little thrown off by a Braavosi mummer having a Targaryen name.

+.+.+

The Sealord had never visited the Gate, but Izembaro named a box for him anyway, the largest and most opulent in the house. "That must be the Westerosi envoy. Have you ever seen such clothes on an old man? And look, he's brought the Black Pearl!"

[...]

"They should call her the Brown Pearl," Mercy said to Daena. "She's more brown than black." "The first Black Pearl was black as a pot of ink," said Daena. "She was a pirate queen, fathered by a Sealord's son on a princess from the Summer Isles. A dragon king from Westeros took her for his lover." "I would like to see a dragon," Mercy said wistfully.

Be careful what you wish for.

I still don't understand the purpose of all this Black Pearl x Targaryen backstory.

+.+.+

"Why does the envoy have a chicken on his chest?"

Daena howled. "Mercy, don't you know anything? It's his siggle. In the Sunset Kingdoms all the lords have siggles. Some have flowers, some have fish, some have bears and elks and other things. See, the envoy's guards are wearing lions."

It wouldn't be an Arya chapter if she wasn't struggling to identify a sigil.

+.+.+

There were four guards; big, hard-looking men in ringmail, with heavy Westerosi longswords sheathed at their hips. Their crimson cloaks were bordered in whorls of gold, and golden lions with red garnet eyes clasped each cloak at the shoulder. When Mercy glanced at the faces beneath the gilded, lion-crested helm, her belly gave a quiver. The gods have given me a gift.

Uh oh!

Dunsen, Polliver, Chiswyck, Raff the Sweetling. The Tickler and the Hound. Ser Amory, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei.

+.+.+

"What of him? Do you know him?" "No." Mercy had been born and bred in Braavos, how could she know some Westerosi? She had to think a moment. "It's only… well, he's fair to look on, don't you think?" He was, in a rough-hewn way, though his eyes were hard. Daena shrugged. "He's very old. Not so old as the other ones, but… he could be thirty. And Westerosi. They're terrible savages, Mercy. Best stay well away from his sort."

George thinks calling the westerners savages one time is going to save him from criticism.

Every time a young girl calls 30-year-old men old, I smile.

+.+.+

"If the Snapper comes looking for me, tell her that I went off to read my lines again." She only had a few, and most were just, "Oh, no, no, no," and "Don't, oh don't, don't touch me," and "Please, m'lord, I am still a maiden," but this was the first time Izembaro had given her any lines at all, so it was only to be expected that poor Mercy would want to get them right.

Good lord.

What do we know about this play? We know a dwarf playing Tyrion is going to rape the maiden Mercy is playing. Any guesses who that might be?

I know what you're thinking, but it's probably not Sansa.

Mercy, I'm Mercy, and tonight I'll be raped and murdered.

Sansa wasn't murdered, and she'd have more lines.

+.+.+

"Seven hells, this place is damp," she heard her guard complain. "I'm chilled to the bones. Where are the bloody orange trees? I always heard there were orange trees in the Free Cities. Lemons and limes. Pomegranates. Hot peppers, warm nights, girls with bare bellies. Where are the bare-bellied girls, I ask you?" "Down in Lys, and Myr, and Old Volantis," the other guard replied. He was an older man, big-bellied and grizzled. "I went to Lys with Lord Tywin once, when he was Hand to Aerys. Braavos is north of King's Landing, fool. Can't you read a bloody map?"

Is that George R. R. Martin trolling his own fanbase?

+.+.+

"How long do you think we'll be here?"

"Longer than you'd like," the old man replied. "If he goes back without the gold the queen will have his head.

In case you missed ADWD's Epilogue, that is a pretty blatant spoiler sitting in plain sight.

Harys Swyft wasn't to travel to Braavos until after Cersei's trial, an event where there's a possibility she'll be executed.

Now he finds himself in Braavos, facing the prospect of losing his head if he doesn't retrieve gold for a queen. Doesn't sound like Margaery Tyrell, does it? Looks like Cersei Lannister managed to survive!

We're now forced to ask ourselves why Margaery Tyrell (Queen), Mace Tyrell (Hand of the King), Randyll Tarly (Master of laws), Paxter Redwyne (Master of ships - not currently in King's Landing, but I'm making a point), and the High Sparrow (High Septon of the Faith of the Seven) are suddenly granting Cersei Lannister the authority to do anything at all.

I have a theory: they're dead, she killed most of them at the trial.

+.+.+

"Longer than you'd like," the old man replied. "If he goes back without the gold the queen will have his head. Besides, I seen that wife of his. There's steps in Casterly Rock she can't go down for fear she'd get stuck, that's how fat she is. Who'd go back to that, when he has his sooty queen?"

For some reason, we're getting additional information about Harys Swyft's unknown wife. That tells me we might be seeing both her and Dorna Swyft in King's Landing soon (Kevan's funeral?).

"Hardstone has cleared the broken men from Darry castle," he replied. "Lancel's bride awaits us there."

"Will your lady wife (Dorna) be joining you for the nuptials?" - Cersei III, AFFC

x

"Your wife … do you mean to bring her to court?"

"No." Dorna was a gentle soul, never comfortable but at home with friends and kin around her. - Epilogue, ADWD

That should please Cersei.

+.+.+

When the dwarf appeared suddenly from behind a wooden tombstone, the crowd began to hiss and curse. Bobono waddled to the front of the stage and leered at them. "The seven-faced god has cheated me," he began, snarling the words. "My noble sire he made of purest gold, and gold he made my siblings, boy and girl. But I am formed of darker stuff, of bones and blood and clay…"

By then Marro had appeared behind him, gaunt and terrible in the Stranger's long black robes. His face was black as well, his teeth red and shiny with blood, while ivory horns jutted upwards from his brow. Bobono could not see him, but the balconies could, and now the pit as well. The Gate grew deathly quiet. Marro moved forward silently.

A mummer playing the Stranger appears behind Tyrion?

This brings me immense joy.

+.+.+

So did Mercy. The costumes were all hung, and the Snapper was busy sewing Daena into her gown for the court scene, so Mercy's absence should not be noted. Quiet as a shadow, she slipped around the back again, up to where the guardsmen stood outside the envoy's box. 

Again, if you look hard enough you can still find remnants of Arya.

+.+.+

On stage, Bobono was bargaining with Marro's sinister Stranger. He had a big voice for such a little man, and he made it ring off the highest rafters now. "Give me the cup," he told the Stranger, "for I shall drink deep. And if it tastes of gold and lion’s blood, so much the better. As I cannot be the hero, let me be the monster, and lesson them in fear in place of love."

Bargaining with the Stranger? No damnit, hold firm, Stranger.

What is this drinking deep? Cersei and Jaime poison things? Joffrey's cup? I don't understand this.

Also, that last line sounds like something Daenerys might say.

+.+.+

She studied it carefully, to be sure. Am I too young for him? she wondered. Too plain? Too skinny? She hoped he wasn't the sort of man who liked big breasts on a girl. Bobono had been right about her chest. It would be best if I could take him back to my place, have him all to myself. But will he come with me?

x 

He'll want me or he won't, she thought, so let the play begin. 

x

Fuss and feathers, Mercy thought, they only know the Common Tongue. That was no good. Give it up or go ahead. She could not give it up. She wanted him so bad.

Are you having fun yet?

+.+.+

Mercy looked down at her feet, so shy. "Izembaro said to please the lords," she whispered. "If there is anything you want, anything at all…" The two guardsmen exchanged a look. Then the handsome one reached out and touched her breast. "Anything?" "You’re disgusting," said the older man. "Why? If this Izembaro wants to be hospitable, it would be rude to refuse." He gave her nipple a tweak through the fabric of her dress, just the way the dwarf had done when she was fixing his cock for him. "Mummers are the next best thing to whores." "Might be, but this one is a child." "I am not," lied Mercy. "I'm a maiden now." "Not for long," said the comely one. "I'm Lord Rafford, sweetling, and I know just what I want. Hike up those skirts now, and lean back against that wall."

"Not here," Mercy said, brushing his hands away. "Not where the play is on. I might cry out, and Izembaro would be mad."

Isn't this awesome?

+.+.+

He grabbed her wrist. "I'll do the teaching. Time for your first lesson." He pulled her hard against him and kissed her on the lips, forcing his tongue into her mouth. It was all wet and slimy, like an eel. Mercy licked it with her own tongue, then broke away from him, breathless. "Not here. Someone might see. My room's not far, but hurry. I have to be back before the second act, or I'll miss my rape."

She's so incredibly badass, isn't she?

+.+.+

"Mercy," he said. "My name is Raff."

"I know." She slipped her hand between his legs, and felt how hard he was through the wool of his breeches.

"The laces," he urged her. "Be a sweet girl and undo them." Instead she slid her finger down along the inside of his thigh. He gave a grunt. "Damn, be careful there, you —"

Mercy gave a gasp and stepped away, her face confused and frightened. "You're bleeding."

"Wha —" He looked down at himself. "Gods be good. What did you do to me, you little cunt?" The red stain spread across his thigh, soaking the heavy fabric.

The creators of Game of Thrones would like you to cheer now.

+.+.+

"Mother have mercy, girl. A healer… run and find a healer, quick now."

"There's one on the next canal, but he won't come. You have to go to him. Can't you walk?"

"Walk?" His fingers were slick with blood. "Are you blind, girl? I'm bleeding like a stuck pig. I can't walk on this."

"Well," she said, "I don't know how you'll get there, then."

"You'll need to carry me."

See? thought Mercy. You know your line, and so do I.

"Think so?" asked Arya, sweetly.

Raff the Sweetling looked up sharply as the long thin blade came sliding from her sleeve. She slipped it through his throat beneath the chin, twisted, and ripped it back out sideways with a single smooth slash. A fine red rain followed, and in his eyes the light went out.

There's Arya! Doing Arya things.

Earlier:

"You could be a mummer, if you wanted," she told him, as he pressed her up against the wall of the playhouse.

"Me?" The guardsman snorted. "Not me, girl. All that bloody talking, I wouldn't remember half of it."

"It's hard at first," she admitted. "But after a time it comes easier. I could teach you to say a line. I could."

Annndddd much earlier than that:

"Can you walk?" He sounded concerned.

"No," said Lommy. "You got to carry me."

"Think so?" The man lifted his spear casually and drove the point through the boy's soft throat. Lommy never even had time to yield again. He jerked once, and that was all. - Arya V, ACOK

Rest in hell, Raff the Sweetling.

+.+.+

"Mercy, Mercy, Mercy," she sang sadly. A foolish, giddy girl she'd been, but good hearted. She would miss her, and she would miss Daena and the Snapper and the rest, even Izembaro and Bobono. This would make trouble for the Sealord and the envoy with the chicken on his chest, she did not doubt. She would think about that later, though. Just now, there was no time. I had best run. Mercy still had some lines to say, her first lines and her last, and Izembaro would have her pretty little empty head if she were late for her own rape.

Make trouble for the Sealord and the envoy? Is the Iron Bank going to be forced to give Harys Swyft money to make up for this? Cersei Lannister, you never lose. Lol.

Anyway, notice how the author intentionally made that impossible to enjoy? Apparently David & Dan didn't.

Final thoughts:

And so, we reach the end of the last Arya chapter, a character who holds a special place in my heart.

Before we proceed, I'd like to take a moment to express my gratitude to someone without whom this reread project wouldn't have been possible.

Thank you, friend. We'll meet again someday.

Next chapter: Arianne II

-> return to menu <-

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Epilogue (Chapter 72)

Finally.

Pretend that's Kevan Lannister.

Please welcome our new POV, Kevan Lannister. His bedchamber is covered in Tywin posters.

The light of the torches made a fiery blaze of Ronnet Connington's long red hair and beard. "Send me against my uncle, and I will bring you back his head, and the head of this false dragon too."

Let the Aegon debates begin!

Shoutout to @decadelongsummer for highlighting yet another "complicated" relationship between uncle/aunt - nephew/niece.

+.+.+

Lannister spearmen in crimson cloaks and lion-crested halfhelms stood along the west wall of the throne room. Tyrell guards in green cloaks faced them from the opposite wall. The chill in the throne room was palpable. Though neither Queen Cersei nor Queen Margaery was amongst them, their presence could be felt poisoning the air, like ghosts at a feast.

I don't want to spoil the story for you all, but whenever someone is referred to as a ghost they usually die.

I know, I know, disappointing. I thought Cersei might make it too.

+.+.+

Behind the table where the five members of the king's small council were seated, the Iron Throne crouched like some great black beast, its barbs and claws and blades half-shrouded in shadow. Kevan Lannister could feel it at his back, an itch between the shoulder blades. It was easy to imagine old King Aerys perched up there, bleeding from some fresh cut, glowering down. 

My goodness, an itch between the shoulder blades?

Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold … - Jon XIII, ADWD

That Iron Throne sounds menacing.

"This Iron Throne you speak of sounds monstrous cold and hard. I cannot bear the thought of jagged barbs cutting your sweet skin." - Daenerys III, ACOK

x

Next you will be offering me a suit of magic armor and a palace in Valyria. "If Daenerys is no more than a sweet young girl, the Iron Throne will cut her into sweet young pieces." - Tyrion II, ADWD

x

Sansa felt limp with exhaustion as she made her way down from the gallery. She wondered how badly Joffrey had cut himself. They say the Iron Throne can be perilous cruel to those who were not meant to sit it. - Sansa VIII, ACOK

Hopefully it doesn't kill another monarch!

The end of it was this hunched black beast made of razor edges and barbs and ribbons of sharp metal; a chair that could kill a man, and had, if the stories could be believed. - Eddard XI, AGOT

x

All day the lords made plans, and late into the night. It was the hour of the wolf when at last Maegor allowed them to take their leave. The king remained behind, brooding on the Iron Throne as they departed. Lord Towers and Lord Rosby were the last to see His Grace.

Hours later, as dawn was breaking, the last of Maegor's queens came seeking after him. Queen Elinor found him still upon the Iron Throne, pale and dead, his robes soaked through with blood. His arms had been slashed open from wrist to elbow on jagged barbs, and another blade had gone through his neck to emerge beneath his chin.

Man to this day believe it was the Iron Throne itself that killed him. - Fire & Blood

Of course we can't be sure that's what happened.

It might also have been a person or persons unknown, entering and leaving the throne room through some hidden passage. The Red Keep has its secrets, known only to the dead. - Fire & Blood

+.+.+

He had seen no reason for Tommen to join them. Kinder to let the boy remain with his mother. The Seven only knew how long mother and son might have together before Cersei's trial … and possibly her execution.

Throughout this chapter Kevan's going to give us the impression Cersei's end is near.

Pretty clear indication she has a ton of story left.

+.+.+

Mace Tyrell was speaking. "We shall deal with your uncle and his feigned boy in due time." The new King's Hand was seated on an oaken throne carved in the shape of a hand, an absurd vanity his lordship had produced the day Ser Kevan agreed to grant him the office he coveted.

You hear that? When Kevan dies, Mace runs this show.

Lmao, over Cersei's dead body.

+.+.+

"How many men-at-arms accompanied Ser Ronnet to the city?" Ser Kevan asked.

"Twenty," said Lord Randyll Tarly, "and most of them Gregor Clegane's old lot. Your nephew Jaime gave them to Connington. To rid himself of them, I'd wager. They had not been in Maidenpool a day before one killed a man and another was accused of rape. I had to hang the one and geld the other. If it were up to me, I would send them all to the Night's Watch, and Connington with them. The Wall is where such scum belong."

"A dog takes after its master," declared Mace Tyrell.

+.+.+

"Black cloaks would suit them, I agree. I will not suffer such men in the city watch." A hundred of his own Highgarden men had been added to the gold cloaks, yet plainly his lordship meant to resist any balancing infusion of westermen. The more I give him, the more he wants. Kevan Lannister was beginning to understand why Cersei had grown so resentful of the Tyrells. 

#JusticeForCerseiLannister

+.+.+

Randyll Tarly and Mace Tyrell had both brought armies to King's Landing, whilst the best part of the strength of House Lannister remained in the riverlands, fast melting away. 

Relevant information for later.

There's two armies in King's Landing, both belonging to the Reach.

The Lannister forces are dwindling.

+.+.+

"Storm's End." Lord Mace Tyrell grunted the words. "He cannot take Storm's End. Not if he were Aegon the Conqueror. And if he does, what of it? Stannis holds it now. Let the castle pass from one pretender to another, why should that trouble us? I shall recapture it after my daughter's innocence is proved."

How can you recapture it when you have never captured it to begin with?

I'm going to be sad if Mace is never given the opportunity to embarrass himself on the field.

+.+.+

"No man doubts your daughter's innocence, my lord," Ser Kevan lied, "but His High Holiness insists upon a trial."

Lord Randyll snorted. "What have we become, when kings and high lords must dance to the twittering of sparrows?"

I'm obsessed with Randyll Tarly, therefore you're reading everything noteworthy he says in this chapter, in case you see something I don't.

+.+.+

"We have foes on every hand, Lord Tarly," Ser Kevan reminded him. "Stannis in the north, ironmen in the west, sellswords in the south. Defy the High Septon, and we will have blood running in the gutters of King's Landing as well. If we are seen to be going against the gods, it will only drive the pious into the arms of one or the other of these would-be usurpers."

+.+.+

"… as for Connington," Tyrell repeated, "what victories has he ever won that we should fear him? He could have ended Robert's Rebellion at Stoney Sept. He failed. Just as the Golden Company has always failed. Some may rush to join them, aye. The realm is well rid of such fools."

Everything about this screams House Tyrell switching sides to Aegon.

Whatever is left of House Tyrell.

+.+.+

If this truly is the Golden Company, as Qyburn's whisperers insist—"

"Call them what you will," said Randyll Tarly. "They are still no more than adventurers."

x

 "Here and here. All along the coast, and on the islands. Tarth, the Stepstones, even Estermont. And now we have reports that Connington is moving on Storm's End."

"If it is Jon Connington," said Randyll Tarly.

x

"Once Paxter Redwyne sweeps the ironmen from the seas, my sons will retake the Shields. The snows will do for Stannis, or Bolton will. As for Connington …"

"If it is him," Lord Randyll said.

x

"Connington may have more than the Golden Company. It is said he has a Targaryen pretender."

"A feigned boy is what he has," said Randyll Tarly.

Of all the council members, Randyll Tarly is the most dismissive of the Golden Company and Aegon.

I'm not sure if that means he's staying put, or switching to Aegon's side. I've flip-flopped on this opinion half a dozen times.

+.+.+

"We have these tales coming from the east as well. A second Targaryen, and one whose blood no man can question. Daenerys Stormborn."

"As mad as her father," declared Lord Mace Tyrell.

That would be the same father that Highgarden and House Tyrell supported to the bitter end and well beyond.

She's getting there!

I don't think it's a coincidence we're being reminded of House Tyrell's loyalty to House Targaryen.

+.+.+

Grand Maester Pycelle bobbed his head. "Dragons. These same stories have reached Oldtown. Too many to discount. A silver-haired queen with three dragons."

"At the far end of the world," said Mace Tyrell. "Queen of Slaver's Bay, aye. She is welcome to it."

"On that we can agree," Ser Kevan said, "but the girl is of the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and I do not think she will be content to remain in Meereen forever. If she should reach these shores and join her strength to Lord Connington and this prince of his, feigned or no … we must destroy Connington and his pretender now, before Daenerys Stormborn can come west."

Mace Tyrell crossed his arms. "I mean to do just that, ser. After the trials."

Mace Tyrell will deal with Aegon ✨after✨ the trial, got it?

Who's ready for some spoilers?!

In Arianne II TWOW we'll learn the Golden Company secures Storm's End.

But that's not all.

"Has no one told you?" Halden Halfmaester favored her with a smile thin and hard as a dagger cut. "Storm’s End is ours. The Hand awaits you there."

Daemon Sand stepped up beside her. "Shipbreaker Bay can be perilous even on a fair summer's day. The safer way to Storm's End is overland."

"These rains have turned the roads to mud. The journey would take two days, perhaps three," said Halden Halfmaester. A ship will have the princess there in half a day or less. There is an army descending on Storm's End from King's Landing. You will want to be safe inside the walls before the battle."

Will we? Wondered Arianne. "Battle? Or siege?" She did not intend to let herself be trapped inside Storm's End. - Arianne II, TWOW

There's an army descending on Storm's End from King's Landing. Remember, there's only two armies in King's Landing - Randyll Tarly's and Mace Tyrell's.

Now, at this point in the story, Margaery's (and Cersei's!) trial has taken place. This is ✨after✨ the trial.

I have a question for the audience:

Do you think this army actually intends to lay siege or battle like Arianne (the author) would have us believe?

Wait, there's more!

+.+.+

"The magisters of Pentos have been known to lend money as well," said Ser Kevan. "Try them." The Pentoshi were even less like to be of help than the Myrish money changers, but the effort must be made. Unless a new source of coin could be found, or the Iron Bank persuaded to relent, he would have no choice but to pay the crown's debts with Lannister gold. He dare not resort to new taxes, not with the Seven Kingdoms crawling with rebellion. 

Double check there is some.

+.+.+

"If that fails, you may well need to go to Braavos, to treat with the Iron Bank yourself."

Ser Harys quailed. "Must I?"

"You are the master of coin," Lord Randyll said sharply.

He will be in Braavos in Arya's first TWOW chapter.

Relevant information for later.

+.+.+

"The silent giant." Lord Randyll grimaced.

"Tell me, ser, where did this man come from?" demanded Mace Tyrell. "Why have we never heard his name before? He does not speak, he will not show his face, he is never seen without his armor. Do we know for a certainty that he is even a knight?"

We do not even know if he's alive. Meryn Trant claimed that Strong took neither food nor drink, and Boros Blount went so far as to say he had never seen the man use the privy. Why should he? Dead men do not shit. Kevan Lannister had a strong suspicion of just who this Ser Robert really was beneath that gleaming white armor. A suspicion that Mace Tyrell and Randyll Tarly no doubt shared. 

They're rather calm given the situation. A dead man serving in the Kingsguard probably deserves a bigger reaction, no?

Anyway, this is your reminder we're on the hunt for eating, drinking, and bathroom breaks in all future Victarion chapters.

+.+.+

Whatever the face hidden behind Strong's helm, it must remain hidden for now. The silent giant was his niece's only hope. And pray that he is as formidable as he appears.

Notice we have no idea who will be representing the Faith in this trial by combat? Not even a hint.

It's because it doesn't matter.

+.+.+

"Whatever Cersei may have done, she is still a daughter of the Rock, of mine own blood. I will not let her die a traitor's death, but I have made sure to draw her fangs. All her guards have been dismissed and replaced with my own men. In place of her former ladies-in-waiting, she will henceforth be attended by a septa and three novices selected by the High Septon. She is to have no further voice in the governance of the realm, nor in Tommen's education. I mean to return her to Casterly Rock after the trial and see that she remains there. Let that suffice."

You sweet silly fool.

+.+.+

The rest he left unsaid. Cersei was soiled goods now, her power at an end. Every baker's boy and beggar in the city had seen her in her shame and every tart and tanner from Flea Bottom to Pisswater Bend had gazed upon her nakedness, their eager eyes crawling over her breasts and belly and woman's parts. No queen could expect to rule again after that. In gold and silk and emeralds Cersei had been a queen, the next thing to a goddess; naked, she was only human, an aging woman with stretch marks on her belly and teats that had begun to sag … as the shrews in the crowds had been glad to point out to their husbands and lovers. Better to live shamed than die proud, Ser Kevan told himself. "My niece will make no further mischief," he promised Mace Tyrell. "You have my word on that, my lord."

+.+.+

Tyrell gave a grudging nod. "As you say. My Margaery prefers to be tried by the Faith, so the whole realm can bear witness to her innocence."

If your daughter is as innocent as you'd have us believe, why must you have your army present when she faces her accusers? Ser Kevan might have asked.

Margaery is innocent.

Does the author want us to know Mace's army will be in close proximity to the Great Sept of Baelor?

+.+.+

The Grand Maester consulted his papers. "We should address the Rosby inheritance. Six claims have been put forth—"

"We can settle Rosby at some later date. What else?"

No way this doesn't become an issue down the line.

We've already covered the Rosby Ward Mysteries.

+.+.+

"Preparations should be made for Princess Myrcella."

"This is what comes of dealing with the Dornish," Mace Tyrell said. "Surely a better match can be found for the girl?"

Such as your own son Willas, perhaps? Her disfigured by one Dornishman, him crippled by another? "No doubt," Ser Kevan said, "but we have enemies enough without offending Dorne. If Doran Martell were to join his strength to Connington's in support of this feigned dragon, things could go very ill for all of us."

Don't worry Kevan, Dorne's going to end that betrothal for you.

+.+.+

"It would," Ser Kevan said wearily. Time to put an end to this. "Thank you, my lords. Let us convene again five days hence. After Cersei's trial."

Relevant information for later.

+.+.+

Randyll Tarly left the hall with his liege lord, their green-cloaked spearmen right behind them. Tarly is the real danger, Ser Kevan reflected as he watched their departure. A narrow man, but iron-willed and shrewd, and as good a soldier as the Reach could boast. But how do I win him to our side?

Kevan dies, leaving this up to Cersei.

On the show she won the loyalty of Randyll Tarly, but on the show she was playing Aegon half the time.

I'll continue to flip flop, but my instinct tells me Cersei is likely to blow this (up).

+.+.+

"Lord Tyrell loves me not," Grand Maester Pycelle said in gloomy tones when the Hand had departed. "This matter of the moon tea … I would never have spoken of such, but the Queen Dowager commanded me! If it please the Lord Regent, I would sleep more soundly if you could lend me some of your guards."

"Lord Tyrell might take that amiss."

Love how I spent time in a previous chapter arguing Cersei was controlling Pycelle in that moment, when I could have just referenced this quote.

+.+.+

Aye, thought Kevan Lannister, and Pycelle is not the only council member our Hand would like to replace. Mace Tyrell had his own candidate for lord treasurer: his uncle, Lord Seneschal of Highgarden, whom men called Garth the Gross. The last thing I need is another Tyrell on the small council. He was already outnumbered. Ser Harys was his wife's father, and Pycelle could be counted upon as well. But Tarly was sworn to Highgarden, as was Paxter Redwyne, lord admiral and master of ships, presently sailing his fleet around Dorne to deal with Euron Greyjoy's ironmen. Once Redwyne returned to King's Landing, the council would stand at three and three, Lannister and Tyrell.

The seventh voice would be the Dornishwoman now escorting Myrcella home. The Lady Nym. But no lady, if even half of what Qyburn reports is true. A bastard daughter of the Red Viper, near as notorious as her father and intent on claiming the council seat that Prince Oberyn himself had occupied so briefly. Ser Kevan had not yet seen fit to inform Mace Tyrell of her coming. The Hand, he knew, would not be pleased.

Part two!

By the end of this chapter Kevan and Pycelle will be dead, leaving Mace Tyrell (Hand of the King), Randyll Tarly (Master of laws), Paxter Redwyne (Master of ships), Ser Harys Swift (Master of coin), and Nym on the small council.

Three to one, with Mace Tyrell in the driver's seat acting as Hand. The Tyrells officially control the realm, right?

WRONG.

Despite Kevan's death, Ser Harys will still take the (long) trip to Braavos to speak with the Iron Bank. Why?

The envoy from the Seven Kingdoms had taken two of his guards into his box to stand behind him and the Black Pearl, but the other two had been posted just outside the door to make certain he was not disturbed.

[...]

"How long do you think we'll be here?"

"Longer than you'd like," the old man replied. "If he goes back without the gold the queen will have his head. Besides, I seen that wife of his. There's steps in Casterly Rock she can't go down for fear she'd get stuck, that's how fat she is. Who'd go back to that, when he has his sooty queen?" - Mercy, TWOW

A queen sent him. That queen will have his head if he doesn't come back with gold.

That's quite the spoiler.

"It would," Ser Kevan said wearily. Time to put an end to this. "Thank you, my lords. Let us convene again five days hence. After Cersei's trial."

Not only does Cersei survive her trial, she's returned to power.

Why is the High Sparrow allowing that to happen? Why is a Tyrell dominated small council allowing that to happen? Why is Hand of the King Mace Tyrell allowing that to happen? Why is Queen Margaery Tyrell allowing that to happen?

I have a question for the audience:

Do you think it's possible Cersei killed most of these people at the trial?

I would also like to circle back to a previous question:

Do you think the King's Landing army from the Reach descending on Storm's End is there for battle?

If we are seen to be going against the gods, it will only drive the pious into the arms of one or the other of these would-be usurpers.

Side note, I'll eat rocks the day Nym Sand walks into King's Landing and serves under Cersei Lannister. Preposterous. I could laugh.

Tommen's the last one to die, and according to my watch he's got five days left. Myrcella is down to her last fifteen minutes, if she isn't already dead. That girl is arriving in a body bag.

+.+.+

The man we need is Littlefinger. Petyr Baelish had a gift for conjuring dragons from the air.

Is that a double entendre?

+.+.+

The three men walked together from the throne room. Outside the snow was swirling round the outer ward, a caged beast howling to be free. "Have you ever felt such cold?" asked Ser Harys.

Snow or ash?

+.+.+

The dry moat surrounding Maegor's Holdfast was three feet deep in snow, the iron spikes that lined it glistening with frost. The only way in or out of Maegor's was across the drawbridge that spanned that moat. A knight of the Kingsguard was always posted at its far end. Tonight the duty had fallen to Ser Meryn Trant. With Balon Swann hunting the rogue knight Darkstar down in Dorne, Loras Tyrell gravely wounded on Dragonstone, and Jaime vanished in the riverlands, only four of the White Swords remained in King's Landing, and Ser Kevan had thrown Osmund Kettleblack (and his brother Osfryd) into the dungeon within hours of Cersei's confessing that she had taken both men as lovers. That left only Trant, the feeble Boros Blount, and Qyburn's mute monster Robert Strong to protect the young king and royal family.

Love that segue! From iron spikes to the lack of personal bodyguards available to Tommen. Nothing strange going on here.

She paused upon the drawbridge that spanned the dry moat, gazing down at the spikes below. - Cersei I, AFFC

x

She left him on the drawbridge that spanned the dry moat with its bed of iron spikes and entered Maegor's Holdfast alone. - Cersei V, AFFC

x

"Should Ser Loras fall, Your Grace will need to find another worthy for the Kingsguard," Lord Qyburn said as they crossed over the spiked moat that girded Maegor's Holdfast. - Cersei VII, AFFC

x

Yet all these were as naught against the tragedy that descended on the court and king. On the twenty-second day of the ninth moon of 133 AC, Jaehaera of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the last surviving child of King Aegon II, perished at the age of ten. The little queen died just as her mother, Queen Helaena, had, throwing herself from a window in Maegor's Holdfast onto the iron spikes that lined the dry moat below. Impaled through breast and belly, she twisted in agony for half an hour before she could be lifted free, whereupon she passed from this life at once. - Fire & Blood

+.+.+

I could put Lancel in a white cloak, he reflected. There is more honor in that than he will ever find in the Warrior's Sons.

You can't save him, Kevan. Cersei Lannister never forgets.

+.+.+

His niece had been subdued and submissive since her walk of atonement, thank the gods. The novices who attended her reported that she spent a third of her waking hours with her son, another third in prayer, and the rest in her tub. She was bathing four or five times a day, scrubbing herself with horsehair brushes and strong lye soap, as if she meant to scrape her skin off.

She will never wash the stain away, no matter how hard she scrubs. Ser Kevan remembered the girl she once had been, so full of life and mischief. And when she'd flowered, ahhhh … had there ever been a maid so sweet to look upon? If Aerys had agreed to marry her to Rhaegar, how many deaths might have been avoided? Cersei could have given the prince the sons he wanted, lions with purple eyes and silver manes … and with such a wife, Rhaegar might never have looked twice at Lyanna Stark. The northern girl had a wild beauty, as he recalled, though however bright a torch might burn it could never match the rising sun.

Arya fandom in shambles.

I'd shower 8 times a day too, but I'm slightly suspicious about abnormal bathing habits knowing what I know about Jeyne and Theon.

This woman is actively plotting, we just have to figure out how.

+.+.+

I have no reason to feel guilty, Ser Kevan told himself. Tywin would understand that, surely. It was his daughter who brought shame down on our name, not I. What I did I did for the good of House Lannister.

His father ignored the sally. "The honor of our House was at stake. I had no choice but to ride. No man sheds Lannister blood with impunity."

"Hear Me Roar," Tyrion said, grinning. The Lannister words. - Tyrion VII, AGOT

+.+.+

"It had to be," Ser Kevan muttered over the last of his wine. His High Holiness had to be appeased. Tommen needed the Faith behind him in the battles to come. And Cersei … the golden child had grown into a vain, foolish, greedy woman. Left to rule, she would have ruined Tommen as she had Joffrey.

Won't take long either.

+.+.+

Only the knights of the Kingsguard were permitted swords in Tommen's presence.

Ser Boros Blount was in attendance on the boy king and his mother when Ser Kevan entered the royal chambers. Blount wore enameled scale, white cloak, and halfhelm. He did not look well. Of late Boros had grown notably heavier about the face and belly, and his color was not good. And he was leaning against the wall behind him, as if standing had become too great an effort for him.

I think I get it now.

"Ser Boros," the queen said pleasantly, "you look quite grey this morning. Something you ate, perchance?" Jaime had made him the king's food taster. A tasty task, but shameful for a knight. Blount hated it. - Cersei IV, AFFC

I predict Boros Blount will have a heart attack when he's in charge of watching Tommen, leaving Tommen unattended. Near a window.

+.+.+

The meal was served by three novices, well-scrubbed girls of good birth between the ages of twelve and sixteen. In their soft white woolens, each seemed more innocent and unworldly than the last, yet the High Septon had insisted that no girl spend more than seven days in the queen's service, lest Cersei corrupt her. They tended the queen's wardrobe, drew her bath, poured her wine, changed her bedclothes of a morning. One shared the queen's bed every night, to ascertain she had no other company; the other two slept in an adjoining chamber with the septa who looked over them. Cersei rose when he entered and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Dear uncle. It is so good of you to sup with us." The queen was dressed as modestly as any matron, in a dark brown gown that buttoned up to her throat and a hooded green mantle that covered her shaved head. Before her walk she would have flaunted her baldness beneath a golden crown. "Come, sit," she said. "Will you have wine?"

She's allowed to drink. That's a bit of an oversight.

Masterful performance by Cersei Lannister. When is this woman meeting with Qyburn? I want to know.

+.+.+

"I am well served. The girls are sweet, and the good septas make certain that I say my prayers. But once my innocence is proved, it would please me if Taena Merryweather might attend me once again. She could bring her son to court. Tommen needs other boys about him, friends of noble birth."

It was a modest request. Ser Kevan saw no reason why it should not be granted. He could foster the Merryweather boy himself, whilst Lady Taena accompanied Cersei back to Casterly Rock. "I will send for her after the trial," he promised.

She's scheeeeming. Why does she want Taena?

"Your Grace," that one said, in her sultry Myrish tones, "I have sent word to my friends across the narrow sea, asking them to seize the Imp at once should he show his ugly face in the Free Cities."

"Do you have many friends across the water?"

"In Myr, many. In Lys as well, and Tyrosh. Men of power." - Cersei II, AFFC

x

Drown, thought Cersei. "Highgarden has gold as well. You have my leave to hire sellsails from beyond the narrow sea."

"Pirates out of Myr and Lys, you mean?" Loras said with contempt. "The scum of the Free Cities?" - Cersei VII, AFFC

Does she want a sellsword company? Is that why Harys went to Braavos for gold?

The Lannister army is evaporating, the Reach army is probably going to Aegon, therefore she needs sellswords. If Daenerys has sellswords, Cersei will have sellswords. It is known.

+.+.+

"The bad cat?" Ser Kevan said, amused. He is a sweet boy.

"An old black tomcat with a torn ear," Cersei told him. "A filthy thing, and foul-tempered. He clawed Joff's hand once." She made a face. "The cats keep the rats down, I know, but that one … he's been known to attack ravens in the rookery."

"I will ask the ratters to set a trap for him." 

He clawed Joff's hand once? Sounds like Nymeria. Has the Jon Snow black cat morphed into Arya the cat?

Sorry, no ratcatcher is going to trap her.

The princess [Daenerys] was six, and years past being weaned, but a wet nurse was summoned, for there were some who believed that mother's milk could cure Shivers. Maesters came and went, septons and septas prayed, the king commanded that a hundred new ratcatchers be hired at once, and offered a silver stag for every dead rat, grey or black.

[...]

None of it matter. A day and a half after she had woken her mother from sleep complaining of feeling cold, the little princess was dead. - Fire & Blood

+.+.+

Ser Kevan could not remember ever seeing his niece so quiet, so subdued, so demure. All for the good, he supposed. But it made him sad as well. Her fire is quenched, she who used to burn so bright. 

Dumb. You're dumb.

The fire's only getting started.

+.+.+

Cersei lifted her chin, her green eyes shining in the candlelight. "Jaime? Have you had word?"

"None. Cersei, you may need to prepare yourself for—"

"If he were dead, I would know it. We came into this world together, Uncle. He would not go without me." 

I guarantee it!

I cannot die while Cersei lives, he told himself. We will die together as we were born together. - Jaime IV, ASOS

x

We will leave this world together, as we once came into it. "He will not lose. Not Jaime. Not with my life at stake." - Cersei X, AFFC

x

And Jaime and I are more than brother and sister. We are one person in two bodies. We shared a womb together. He came into this world holding my foot, our old maester said. When he is in me, I feel … whole." The ghost of a smile flitted over her lips. - Eddard XII, AGOT

+.+.+

She nodded. "Uncle, may I ask you a question?"

"Whatever you wish."

"Your wife … do you mean to bring her to court?"

"No." Dorna was a gentle soul, never comfortable but at home with friends and kin around her. She had done well by their children, dreamed of having grandchildren, prayed seven times a day, loved needlework and flowers. In King's Landing she would be as happy as one of Tommen's kittens in a pit of vipers. "My lady wife mislikes travel. Lannisport is her place."

"It is a wise woman who knows her place."

He did not like the sound of that. "Say what you mean."

"I thought I did." Cersei held out her cup. The freckled girl filled it once again.

Not only is she drinking, she's drinking a lot.

Second time Cersei has inquired about Dorna.

"Hardstone has cleared the broken men from Darry castle," he replied. "Lancel's bride awaits us there."

"Will your lady wife be joining you for the nuptials?" - Cersei III, AFFC

She wants Dorna to control Kevan, but Kevan will die.

Ser Harys had been thrilled by his appointment, too dim to realize that he was more hostage than Hand. His daughter was her uncle's wife, and Kevan loved his chinless lady, flat-chested and chicken-legged as she was. So long as she had Ser Harys in hand, Kevan Lannister must needs think twice about opposing her. To be sure, a good-father is not the ideal hostage, but better a flimsy shield than none. - Cersei IV, AFFC

We still have Dorna's father to control.

I'm not sure where this is going. Surely Dorna will be in King's Landing for his funeral, then what? I'm a bit nervous to find out.

+.+.+

"Osney's brothers will not stand by idly and watch him die," Cersei warned him.

"I did not expect that they would. I've had the both of them arrested."

That seemed to take her aback. "For what crime?"

"Fornication with a queen. His High Holiness says that you confessed to bedding both of them—had you forgotten?"

Her face reddened. "No. What will you do with them?"

"The Wall, if they admit their guilt. If they deny it, they can face Ser Robert. Such men should never have been raised so high."

Cersei lowered her head. "I … I misjudged them."

I will not be a happy camper if the Kettleblacks are anywhere near Jon, Sansa, and Littlefinger.

+.+.+

Before he took his leave, he dropped to one knee and kissed his niece upon the hand. If her silent giant failed her, it might be the last kiss she would ever know.

I'm convinced, author. You convinced me.

+.+.+

The rest was shrouded in shadow … except beneath the open window, where a spray of ice crystals glittered in the moonlight, swirling in the wind. On the window seat a raven loitered, pale, huge, its feathers ruffled. It was the largest raven that Kevan Lannister had ever seen. Larger than any hunting hawk at Casterly Rock, larger than the largest owl. Blowing snow danced around it, and the moon painted it silver.

Not silver. White. The bird is white.

At this point I'm giving every bird the side-eye.

+.+.+

Then something slammed him in the chest between the ribs, hard as a giant's fist. It drove the breath from him and sent him lurching backwards. The white raven took to the air, its pale wings slapping him about the head. Ser Kevan half-sat and half-fell onto the window seat. What … who … A quarrel was sunk almost to the fletching in his chest. No. No, that was how my brother died. Blood was seeping out around the shaft. "Pycelle," he muttered, confused. "Help me … I …"

Then he saw. Grand Maester Pycelle was seated at his table, his head pillowed on the great leather-bound tome before him. Sleeping, Kevan thought … until he blinked and saw the deep red gash in the old man's spotted skull and the blood pooled beneath his head, staining the pages of his book. All around his candle were bits of bone and brain, islands in a lake of melted wax.

Once Grand Maester Pycelle came with a box of flasks and bottles, to ask if she was ill. He felt her brow, made her undress, and touched her all over while her bedmaid held her down. - Sansa VI, AGOT

+.+.+

Was this his nephew's work? "Tyrion?" he called. "Where …?"

"Far away," a half-familiar voice replied.

He stood in a pool of shadow by a bookcase, plump, pale-faced, round-shouldered, clutching a crossbow in soft powdered hands. Silk slippers swaddled his feet.

Those shadows can be dangerous.

+.+.+

The eunuch set the crossbow down. "Ser Kevan. Forgive me if you can. I bear you no ill will. This was not done from malice. It was for the realm. For the children."

You cut the tongues out of children.

+.+.+

"There are … there are hundreds of Lannister guardsmen in this castle."

"But none in this room, thankfully. This pains me, my lord. You do not deserve to die alone on such a cold dark night. There are many like you, good men in service to bad causes … but you were threatening to undo all the queen's good work, to reconcile Highgarden and Casterly Rock, bind the Faith to your little king, unite the Seven Kingdoms under Tommen's rule. So …"

A gust of wind blew up. Ser Kevan shivered violently.

"Are you cold, my lord?" asked Varys.

Speaking of shivers and cold, did you know it's believed the Shivers came to King's Landing because of harbor rats from the Free Cities?

And then the Shivers came, and the Stranger walked the land.

[...]

Many of the smallfolk believed that it was carried by rats; not the familiar grey rats of King's Landing or Oldtown, big and bold and vicious, but the smaller black rats that could be seen swarming from the holds of ships at dock and scurrying down the ropes that held them fast. - Fire & Blood

And those little buggers killed precious little Daenerys Targaryen!

It was the hour of the owl when Queen Alysanne was awoken by her daughter shaking her gently by the arm. "Mother," Princess Daenerys said, "I'm cold." - Fire & Blood

Personally, I believe they have an undeserving reputation. Nobody was able to prove the rats were even guilty!

Though the guilt of rats was never proved to the satisfaction of the Citadel, suddenly every house in the Seven Kingdoms, from the grandest castle to the humblest hut, required a cat. - Fire & Blood

+.+.+

"I thought the crossbow fitting. You shared so much with Lord Tywin, why not that? Your niece will think the Tyrells had you murdered, mayhaps with the connivance of the Imp. The Tyrells will suspect her. Someone somewhere will find a way to blame the Dornishmen. Doubt, division, and mistrust will eat the very ground beneath your boy king, whilst Aegon raises his banner above Storm's End and the lords of the realm gather round him."

All true, but when you stab Substitute Tywin dozens of times after the crossbow it kind of makes it look like retribution for Rhaenys.

Doubt anyone picks up on that though.

+.+.+

"Aegon?" For a moment he did not understand. Then he remembered. A babe swaddled in a crimson cloak, the cloth stained with his blood and brains. "Dead. He's dead."

"No." The eunuch's voice seemed deeper. "He is here. Aegon has been shaped for rule since before he could walk. He has been trained in arms, as befits a knight to be, but that was not the end of his education. He reads and writes, he speaks several tongues, he has studied history and law and poetry. A septa has instructed him in the mysteries of the Faith since he was old enough to understand them. He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Tommen has been taught that kingship is his right. Aegon knows that kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them."

Yeah, here's the thing about Aegon being trained in arms, it doesn't appear to be a strength of his. Oh well.

To me, it seems like Varys drops the facade whenever he's telling the truth.

Varys smiled apologetically. "I will not keep you long, my lord. There are things you must know. You are the King's Hand, and the king is a fool." The eunuch's cloying tones were gone; now his voice was thin and sharp as a whip. "Your friend, I know, yet a fool nonetheless … and doomed, unless you save him. Today was a near thing. They had hoped to kill him during the melee." - Eddard VII, AGOT

x

"I recall," said Tyrion. "You did not want to talk of it."

"Nor do I, but . . ." This pause was longer than the one before, and when Varys spoke again his voice was different somehow. "I was an orphan boy apprenticed to a traveling folly. Our master owned a fat little cog and we sailed up and down the narrow sea performing in all the Free Cities and from time to time in Oldtown and King's Landing. - Tyrion X, ACOK

x

"Perhaps he read a book and looked at the color of a bastard's hair, as Ned Stark did, and Jon Arryn before him. Or perhaps someone whispered it in his ear." The eunuch's laugh was not his usual giggle, but deeper and more throaty. - Tyrion III, ACOK   

I guess we'll have to wait and see!

By the way, the part about being educated and possessing knowledge of history, law, and poetry is when it becomes clear it's not about Arya Stark. Sorry.

+.+.+

Kevan Lannister tried to cry out … to his guards, his wife, his brother … but the words would not come. 

Lol, loser.

+.+.+

He shuddered violently.

"I am sorry." Varys wrung his hands. "You are suffering, I know, yet here I stand going on like some silly old woman. Time to make an end to it." The eunuch pursed his lips and gave a little whistle.

Ser Kevan was cold as ice, and every labored breath sent a fresh stab of pain through him. He glimpsed movement, heard the soft scuffling sound of slippered feet on stone. A child emerged from a pool of darkness, a pale boy in a ragged robe, no more than nine or ten. Another rose up behind the Grand Maester's chair. The girl who had opened the door for him was there as well. They were all around him, half a dozen of them, white-faced children with dark eyes, boys and girls together.

And in their hands, the daggers.

Wait, who had the last chapter again? Right, Daenerys.

Anyway, here's a bunch of rats children coming through the secret tunnels of the Red Keep to kill Kevan Lannister with daggers.

He's cold.

Final thoughts:

Fam,

WE DID IT!

Not to sound dramatic, but that was the worst experience of my life.

-> return to menu <-

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

TWOW: The Forsaken (Aeron Dam-phair)

It's one of those chapters.

It was always midnight in the belly of the beast. The mutes had robbed him of his of robe and shoes and breechclout. He wore hair and chains and scabs. Saltwater sloshed about his legs whenever the tide came in, rising as high as his genitals only to ebb again when the tide receded. His feet had grown huge and soft and puffy, shapeless things as big as hams. He knew that he was in some dungeon, but not where, or for how long.

Believe it or not, this is not Theon Greyjoy.

Quick note, this chapter is going to span several months, so it might be a bit tricky following the timeline. I'll do my best to make things easy to understand, but just know this chapter covers the following:

The aftermath of the Kingsmoot on Old Wyck

The attack of the Shield Islands

The initial stages of the Arbor attack

+.+.+

The night they moved him, he had seen the moon floating on a black wine sea with a leering face that reminded him of Euron.

Moon imagery for squid and dragon, love that for them.

+.+.+

When he slept, the darkness would rise up and swallow him and then the dream would come … and Urri and the scream of a rusted hinge.

You ever notice that of all the recurrent POV characters, it's the two religious fanatics, Melisandre and Dam-phair, who have had the most traumatic childhoods?

(Please pretend Areo Hotah doesn't exist for the sake of my interesting observation.)

+.+.+

Sometimes, Euron came himself. Aeron would wake from sleep to find his brother standing over him, lantern in hand. Once, aboard the Silence, he hung the lantern from a post and poured them cups of wine. "Drink with me, brother," he said. That night he wore a shirt of iron scales and a cloak of blood red silk. His eyepatch was red leather, his lips blue. 

Did you know the way we dress can greatly influence how others perceive us? First impressions are often based on appearance, and dressing in line with expectations can help create a positive image.

+.+.+

"What can you offer me that I have not had before?" Euron smiled. "I left the islands in the hands of old Erik Ironmaker, and sealed his loyalty with the hand of our sweet Asha. I would not have you preaching against his rule, so I took you with us."

The man's got brains, what can I say?

He may be a total fraud, but he dodged the dumb Greyjoy genes.

+.+.+

Euron grabbed a handful of the priest's tangled black hair, pulled his head back, and lifted the wine cup to his lips. But what flowed into his mouth was not wine. It was thick and viscous, with a taste that seemed to change with every swallow. Now bitter, now sour, now sweet. When Aeron tried to spit it out, his brother tightened his grip and forced more down his throat. "That's it, priest. Gulp it down. The wine of the warlocks, sweeter than your seawater, with more truth in it than all the gods of earth."

[...]

Aeron hawked and spat. The spittle struck his brother's cheek and hung there, blue-black, glistening. Euron flicked it off his face with a forefinger, then licked the finger clean.

+.+.+

And when the Damphair slept, sagging in his chains, he heard the creak of a rusted hinge. "Urri!" he cried. There is no hinge here, no door, no Urri. His brother Urrigon was long dead, yet there he stood. One arm was black and swollen, stinking with maggots, but he was still Urri, still a boy, no older than the day he died.

Hey, Victarion's got one of those too.

+.+.+

"You know what waits below the sea, brother?" "The Drowned God," Aeron said, "the watery halls." Urri shook his head. "Worms … worms await you, Aeron."

You might also find Euron and Victarion down there.

+.+.+

When he laughed his face sloughed off and the priest saw that it was not Urri but Euron, the smiling eye hidden. He showed the world his blood eye now, dark and terrible. Clad head to heel in scale as dark as onyx, he sat upon a mound of blackened skulls as dwarfs capered round his feet and a forest burned behind him.

"The bleeding star bespoke the end," he said to Aeron. "These are the last days, when the world shall be broken and remade. A new god shall be born from the graves and charnel pits." Then Euron lifted a great horn to his lips and blew, and dragons and krakens and sphinxes came at his command and bowed before him. "Kneel, brother," the Crow's Eye commanded. "I am your king, I am your god. Worship me, and I will raise you up to be my priest."

"Never. No godless man may sit the Seastone Chair!"

"Why would I want that hard black rock? Brother, look again and see where I am seated."

Aeron Damphair looked. The mound of skulls was gone. Now it was metal underneath the Crow's Eye: a great, tall, twisted seat of razor sharp iron, barbs and blades and broken swords, all dripping blood.

Impaled upon the longer spikes were the bodies of the gods. The Maiden was there and the Father and the Mother, the Warrior and Crone and Smith … even the Stranger. They hung side by side with all manner of queer foreign gods: the Great Shepherd and the Black Goat, three-headed Trios and the Pale Child Bakkalon, the Lord of Light and the butterfly god of Naath.

And there, swollen and green, half-devoured by crabs, the Drowned God festered with the rest, seawater still dripping from his hair. Then, Euron Crow's Eye laughed again, and the priest woke screaming in the bowels of Silence, as piss ran down his leg. It was only a dream, a vision born of foul black wine.

God, I don't know. I'm so tired.

He showed the world his blood eye now, dark and terrible. Clad head to heel in scale as dark as onyx, he sat upon a mound of blackened skulls as dwarfs capered round his feet and a forest burned behind him.

Not sure why it's called his blood eye, when it's black. That's a great way of tricking your fanbase into writing hundreds of Euron x Bloodraven metas.

The scale as dark as onyx might be the Valyrian steel armour he'll rock later in this chapter.

Euron Crow's Eye stood upon the deck of Silence, clad in a suit of black scale armor like nothing Aeron had ever seen before. Dark as smoke it was [...]

As for the mound of blackened skulls, I'm going to go out out on a limb and say they represent a significant loss of life on a large scale, caused by fire.

The dwarves are similar to Daenerys' dwarves from the House of the Undying.

In one room, a beautiful woman sprawled naked on the floor while four little men crawled over her. - Daenerys IV, ACOK

Most people believe those dwarves symbolize the four kings tearing through Westeros in pursuit of the Iron Throne, and it wouldn't be a bad guess to assume they represent the same thing here.

These dwarves will pop up again later in this chapter,

Dwarves capered for their amusement, male and female, naked and misshapen, locked in carnal embrace, biting and tearing at each other as Euron and his mate laughed and laughed and laughed …

and all signs are pointing towards Daenerys and Aegon, two new claimants of the Iron Throne.

That leaves the burning forest behind him. I've seen people speculate it's the Kingswood, Horn Hill, and a few other locations, among other guesses.

I personally believe it's one of two options: 1) The forest represents the Old Gods - in this same vision we see the death of all deities, or 2) It's symbolizing the Citadel (Oldtown) - books, books are burning.

"The bleeding star bespoke the end," he said to Aeron. "These are the last days, when the world shall be broken and remade. A new god shall be born from the graves and charnel pits."

Daenerys aka Azor Ahai aka Fate's Fumbler aka Destiny's Dud.

The Volantene waved a hand. "In Volantis, thousands of slaves and freedmen crowd the temple plaza every night to hear Benerro shriek of bleeding stars and a sword of fire that will cleanse the world. [...]" - Tyrion VI, ADWD 

What I especially love about this is that Dam-phair's learning that the comet's meaning is the opposite of what he initially believed. Initially, it was a promising sign, he interpreted it as a harbinger of triumph and glory for House Greyjoy and the ironborn.

The priest had dreamed the same dream, when first he'd seen the red comet in the sky. We shall sweep over the green lands with fire and sword - The Drowned Man, AFFC

Now, he is confronted with the revelation that the comet actually points towards an apocalyptic end.

Isn't that fascinating? Isn't that super interesting? I wonder if other priests are going to be forced to come to terms with the fact that they misconstrued certain prophecies.

Then Euron lifted a great horn to his lips and blew, and dragons and krakens and sphinxes came at his command and bowed before him.

Christ, more horn. There is a horn that some claim can command krakens.

Lord Celtigar had many fine wines that now I am not tasting, a sea eagle he had trained to fly from the wrist, and a magic horn to summon krakens from the deep. - Davos V, ASOS

I have no clue if it matters at all, or if any of these bloody horns actually serve any real purpose.

As for the sphinxes, I associate that with the Citadel.

The gates of the Citadel were flanked by a pair of towering green sphinxes with the bodies of lions, the wings of eagles, and the tails of serpents. - Samwell V, AFFC

The sphinx is the riddle!

Now it was metal underneath the Crow's Eye: a great, tall, twisted seat of razor sharp iron, barbs and blades and broken swords, all dripping blood.

Iron Throne!

You're welcome.

Impaled upon the longer spikes were the bodies of the gods. The Maiden was there and the Father and the Mother, the Warrior and Crone and Smith … even the Stranger. They hung side by side with all manner of queer foreign gods: the Great Shepherd and the Black Goat, three-headed Trios and the Pale Child Bakkalon, the Lord of Light and the butterfly god of Naath. And there, swollen and green, half-devoured by crabs, the Drowned God festered with the rest, seawater still dripping from his hair.

Euron pushing his separation of church and state agenda.

Later in this chapter we'll learn he's collecting holy men who represent some of these faiths. Fun!

+.+.+

Mingled with the distant roar of song and celebration coming up from the beach, he'd heard the faint creak of longships settling on the strand. He heard the keening of the wind and now whines. He heard the pounding of the waves, the hammer of his god calling him to battle. And there and then, the Drowned God had come to him once more, his voice welling up from the depths of the sea. "Aeron, my good and faithful servant, you must tell the Ironborn that the Crow's Eye is no true king, that the Seastone Chair by rights belongs to … to … to …" Not Victarion. Victarion had offered himself to the captains and kings but they had spurned him.

Aeron is now recalling the moments that followed the Kingsmoot.

Notice that stutter? Notice how both the Drowned God and Dam-phair struggle to arrive at a definitive answer? It's almost as if this God merely reinforces Dam-phair's own beliefs.

+.+.+

Not Asha. In his heart, Aeron had always loved Asha best of all his brother Balon's children. The Drowned God had blessed her with a warrior's spirit and the wisdom of a king – but he had cursed her with a woman's body, too. No woman had ever ruled the Iron Islands. She should never have made a claim. She should have spoken for Victarion, added her own strength to his.

She tried. Unfortunately, she's surrounded by idiots.

"Then let my nuncle sit," Asha said. "I will stand behind you, to guard your back and whisper in your ear. No king can rule alone. Even when the dragons sat the Iron Throne, they had men to help them. The King's Hands. Let me be your Hand, Nuncle."

No King of the Isles had ever needed a Hand, much less one who was a woman. The captains and the kings would mock me in their cups. - The Iron Captain, AFFC

+.+.+

It was not too late, Aeron had decided as he shivered in the sea. If Victarion took Asha for his wife, they could yet rule together, king and queen. In ancient days, each isle had its Salt King and its Rock King. Let the Old Way return.

Oh my god. Hahahaha.

Well, I'll say this, that has more chance of happening than Daenerys with Aegon/Jon, or Sansa with her uncle by marriage.

+.+.+

Aeron Damphair had struggled back to shore, full of fierce resolve. He would bring down Euron, not with sword or axe but with the power of his faith.

I think you're probably going to need the axe.

+.+.+

"And who are you, child?"

"Falia Flowers, Lord Hewett's natural daughter. I am to be King Euron's salt wife. You and I will be kin, then." Aeron Damphair raised his eyes to hers. His scabbed lips were crusted with wet porridge. "Woman." His chains clinked when he moved. "Run. He will hurt you. He will kill you."

She laughed. "Silly, he won't. I'm his love, his lady. He gives me gifts, so many gifts. Silks and furs and jewels. Rags and rocks, he calls them."

"The Crow's Eye puts no value in such things." That was one of the things that drew men to his service. Most captains kept the lion's share of their plunder but Euron took almost nothing for himself.

"He gives me any gown I want," the girl was prattling happily. "My sisters used to make me wait on them at table, but Euron made them serve the whole hall naked! Why should he do that, except for love of me?" She put a hand on her belly and smoothed down the fabric of her gown.

"I'm going to give him sons. So many sons …"

[...]

"Gone?" That was the cruelest blow of all. "Gone where?"

"East," she said, "with all his ships. He's to bring the dragon queen to Westeros. I'm to be Euron's salt wife, but he must have a rock wife too, a queen to rule all Westeros at his side. They say she's the most beautiful woman in the world, and she has dragons. The two of us will be as close as sisters!"

Sisters?

I don't have the strength or desire to properly comment on any of this.

+.+.+

That night, when the tide came rushing back into the prison cell, he prayed that it might rise all night, enough to end his torment. I have been your true and leal servant, he prayed, twisting in his chains. Now snatch me from my brother's hand, and take me down beneath the waves, to be seated at your side.

Very on brand for a Greyjoy to be wishing for his own death.

This is how I know Victarion murder-suicides.

+.+.+

"It was me who taught you how to pray, little brother. Have you forgotten? I would visit your bed chamber at night when I had too much to drink. You shared a room with Urrigon high up in the seatower. I could hear you praying from outside the door. I always wondered: Were you praying that I would choose you or that I would pass you by?" Euron pressed the knife to Aeron's throat.

There's no reason for me to include this, but it's necessary if you want to get the full Euron experience.

+.+.+

"Not even you would dare," said the Damphair. "I am your brother. No man is more accursed than the kinslayer."

Somewhere in the world, Victarion's ears are ringing.

+.+.+

"And yet I wear a crown and you rot in chains. How is it that your Drowned God allows that when I have killed three brothers?" Aeron could only gape at him. "Three?" "Well, if you count half-brothers. Do you remember little Robin? Wretched creature. Do you remember that big head of his, how soft it was? All he could do was mewl and shit. He was my second. Harlon was my first. All I had to do was pinch his nose shut. The greyscale had turned his mouth to stone so he could not cry out. But his eyes grew frantic as he died. They begged me. When the life went out of them, I went out and pissed into the sea, waiting for the god to strike me down. None did. Oh, and Balon was the third, but you knew that. I could not do the deed myself, but it was my hand that pushed him off the bridge."

Am I supposed to be thinking about Sweetrobin?

Take a second to compare the above with whoever the hell this is:

Wild, right? Of all the characters they fucked up, Euron has to be the worst.

Anyway, Euron's gotta meet his end at the hands of a brother. It's just the way it has to be, plain and simple.

+.+.+

He stepped back and sheathed his dagger. "No, I'll not kill you tonight. A holy man with holy blood. I may have need of that that blood … later. For now, you are condemned to live."

Ouu a sacrifice! Do holy men have special blood?

Good thing Melisandre is at the other end of the continent. We wouldn't want her to get a taste of sweet, poetic justice.

+.+.+

It was in the second dungeon that the other holy men began to appear to share his torments. Three wore the robes of septons of the green lands, and one the red raiment of a priest of R'hllor. The last was hardly recognizable as a man. Both his hands had been burned down to the bone, and his face was a charred and blackened horror where two blind eyes moved sightlessly above the cracked cheeks dripping pus. He was dead within hours of being shackled to the wall, but the mutes left his body there to ripen for three days afterwards.

Last were two warlocks of the east, with flesh as white as mushrooms, and lips the purplish-blue of a bad bruise, all so gaunt and starved that only skin and bones remained. One had lost his legs. The mutes hung him from a rafter. "Pree," he cried as he swung back and forth. "Pree, Pree!”

Perhaps that was the name of the demon that he worships. The Drowned God protects me, the priest told himself. He is stronger than the false gods these other worship, stronger than their black sorceries. The Drowned God will set me free.

In his saner moments, Aeron questioned why the Crow's Eye was collecting priests, but he did not think that he would like the answer.

Some people collect coins and stamps, and then there's Euron Greyjoy.

Yes, that would be Pyat Pree's little band of warlocks.

Euron drank deep from his own cup, and smiled. "Shade-of-the-evening, the wine of the warlocks. I came upon a cask of it when I captured a certain galleas out of Qarth, along with some cloves and nutmeg, forty bolts of green silk, and four warlocks who told a curious tale. One presumed to threaten me, so I killed him and fed him to the other three. They refused to eat of their friend's flesh at first, but when they grew hungry enough they had a change of heart. Men are meat." - The Reaver, AFFC

x

"Not all your enemies are in the Yellow City. Beware men with cold hearts and blue lips. You had not been gone from Qarth a fortnight when Pyat Pree set out with three of his fellow warlocks, to seek for you in Pentos." - Daenerys III, ADWD

It's so sweet how he kills all her enemies for her.

Side note, it's a bit interesting that Euron had access to a red priest from R'hllor, when the horn he gave Victarion feels like it might have a connection to that faith.

+.+.+

When Euron came again, his hair was swept straight back from his brow, and his lips were so blue that they were almost black. He had put aside his driftwood crown. In its place, he wore an iron crown whose points were made from the teeth of sharks.

That's kind of cool.

+.+.+

"Your victories are hollow. You cannot hold the Shields."

"Why should I want to hold them?" His brother's smiling eye glittered in the lantern light, blue and bold and full of malice. "The Shields have served my purpose. I took them with one hand, and gave them away with the other. A great king is open-handed, brother. It is up to the new lords to hold them now. The glory of winning those rocks will be mine forever. When they are lost, the defeat will belong to the four fools who so eagerly accepted my gifts."

My poor Vicky. Please throw your toy in the sea.

+.+.+

Euron pulled his head back by the hair and forced the vile liquor into his mouth again. Though Aeron clamped his mouth shut, twisting his head from side to side he fought as best he could, but in the end he had to choke or swallow.

The dreams were even worse the second time. He saw the longships of the Ironborn adrift and burning on a boiling blood-red sea. He saw his brother on the Iron Throne again, but Euron was no longer human. He seemed more squid than man, a monster fathered by a kraken of the deep, his face a mass of writhing tentacles. Beside him stood a shadow in woman's form, long and tall and terrible, her hands alive with pale white fire. Dwarves capered for their amusement, male and female, naked and misshapen, locked in carnal embrace, biting and tearing at each other as Euron and his mate laughed and laughed and laughed …

He saw the longships of the Ironborn adrift and burning on a boiling blood-red sea.

Wouldn't be Euron if he wasn't sailing on a sea of blood.

"Only their shadows," Moqorro said. "One most of all. A tall and twisted thing with one black eye and ten long arms, sailing on a sea of blood." - Tyrion VIII, ADWD

In a previous chapter, Melisandre also had visions of a blood-red sea, which seemed to hint at the imminent destruction of Oldtown.

Then the towers by the sea, crumbling as the dark tide came sweeping over them, rising from the depths. - Melisandre I, ADWD

x

I saw towers by the sea, submerged beneath a black and bloody tide. - Melisandre I, ADWD

I'm sure I don't have to point out the Arbor is right beside Oldtown.

He saw his brother on the Iron Throne again, but Euron was no longer human. He seemed more squid than man, a monster fathered by a kraken of the deep, his face a mass of writhing tentacles.

Greyjoy kraken things.

Beside him stood a shadow in woman's form, long and tall and terrible, her hands alive with pale white fire.

Four popular candidates.

Melisandre:

The mist rose from her pale flesh, and for a moment it seemed as if pale, sorcerous flames were playing about her fingers. - Jon VI, ADWD

Popular theory solely because of that.

I can't understand why. She's at the Wall, and Euron is more likely to sacrifice her than join forces with her. Honestly, what is it about these chapters that is giving people the impression Euron gives a shit about what a red priestess has to say?

Cersei:

Terrible, tall, pale, and often associated with fire. Can't totally dismiss it, because of what transpired on the show. Plus she wants a fleet as badly as Daenerys does, and would be dumb enough to ally with a Greyjoy to get one. We love Cersei and Daenerys parallels!

My problem is, I don't think Euron wants or needs Cersei Lannister.

Daenerys:

Not long or tall, but certainly terrible. Notable fire lady, and the woman Euron is after. Need I say more?

As much as I love Storm x Storm, Daenerys Targaryen is nobody's sidekick, and it's not going to take much time before these two end up in a war.

Viserion:

The shadowy pale white intersex dragon, who breathes pale golden fire.

But as Brown Ben was leaving, Viserion spread his pale white wings and flapped lazily at his head. 

I lied before, Euron's not after Daenerys. This is what Euron truly wants.

If it is Viserion, it would explain why the show felt compelled to give Viserion to a character that doesn't even exist in the books. It would also explain all the foreshadowing that suggests two of Daenerys' dragons will clash.

I'm not completely convinced about this theory, but if any of those dumb horns actually have an effect, my money's on Viserion being the target. And if there's anyone who'd snatch up one of Daenerys' dragons, it's most likely going to be Euron.

Dwarves capered for their amusement, male and female, naked and misshapen, locked in carnal embrace, biting and tearing at each other as Euron and his mate laughed and laughed and laughed …

Tyrion and Penny.

Kidding. Aegon and Daenerys feels like a safe bet.

+.+.+

Aeron dreamed of drowning, too. Not of the bliss that would surely follow down in the Drowned God's watery halls, but of the terror that even the faithful feel as the water fills their mouth and nose and lungs, and they cannot draw a breath. Three times the Damphair woke, and three times it proved no true waking, but only another chapter in a dream. 

Is it Dam-phair who is drowning? Or is he experiencing Euron's death?

I'm a bit lost on the three times he woke.

+.+.+

They dragged him up more steps, down a torchlit gallery, and into a bleak stone hall where a dozen bodies were hanging from the rafters, turning and swaying. A dozen of Euron's captains were gathered in the hall, drinking wine beneath the corpses. Left-Hand Lucas Codd sat in the place of honor, wearing a heavy silken tapestry as a cloak. Beside him was the Red Oarsman, and further down Pinchface Jon Myre, Stonehand, and Rogin Salt-Beard.

"Who are these dead?" Aeron commanded. His tongue was so thick the words came out in a rusty whisper, faint as a mouse breaking wind.

"The lord that held this castle, with his kin." The voice belonged to Torwold Browntooth, one of his brother's captains, a creature near as vile as the Crow's Eye himself. "Pigs," said another vile creature, the one they called the Red Oarsman. "This was their isle. A rock, just off the Arbor. They dared oink threats at us. Redwyne, oink. Hightower, oink. Tyrell, oink oink oink! So we sent them squealing down to hell."

We've now reached the Arbor.

As you can see, people are dead. More will join them.

+.+.+

"Your curses have no power here, priest," said Left-Hand Lucas Codd. "The Crow's Eye has fed your Drowned God well, and he has grown fat with sacrifice. Words are wind, but blood is power. We have given thousands to the sea, and he has given us victories!"

"And krakens off the Broken Arm, pulling under crippled galleys," said Valena. "The blood draws them to the surface, our maester claims. [...] - Arianne I, TWOW

Bruh, is this part of his plan? That's crazy, surely not.

Is it??

A tangle of roots and limbs poked up out of the water as it came, like the reaching arms of a great kraken. - Arya IX, ASOS

x

"In the Seven Kingdoms, there are tales of dragons who grew so huge that they could pluck giant krakens from the seas."

Dany laughed. "That would be a wondrous sight to see." - Daenerys I, ASOS

x

The next storm could sink or scatter us, a kraken could pull us under . . . - Daenerys I, ASOS

x

The eunuch drew a parchment from his sleeve. "A kraken has been seen off the Fingers." He giggled. "Not a Greyjoy, mind you, a true kraken. It attacked an Ibbenese whaler and pulled it under. - Tyrion III, ASOS

x

On the crown of the hill four-and-forty monstrous stone ribs rose from the earth like the trunks of great pale trees. The sight made Aeron's heart beat faster. Nagga had been the first sea dragon, the mightiest ever to rise from the waves. She fed on krakens and leviathans and drowned whole islands in her wrath [...] - The Drowned Man, AFFC

Bruh.

🎨 antoniothailan

PLS GEORGE I NEED IT.

+.+.+

"Count yourself blessed, Damphair," said Stonehand. "We are going back to sea. The Redwyne fleet creeps toward us. The winds have been against them rounding Dorne, but they're finally near enough to have emboldened the old women in Oldtown, so now Leyton Hightower's sons move down the Whispering Sound in hopes of catching us in the rear."

Euron appears to be controlling the wind again.

"Do I command the winds?" the Crow's Eye asked his pets.

"No, Your Grace," said Orkwood of Orkmont.

"No man commands the winds," said Germund Botley.

"Would that you did," the Red Oarsman said. "You would sail wherever you liked and never be becalmed."

"There you have it, from the mouths of three brave men," Euron said. - The Iron Captain, AFFC

I wonder if his red priest had something to do with that.

Euron is fully aware of what the Hightower and Redwyne fleets are planning, so they have no hope at all. Even if he were unaware, they still wouldn't stand a chance. Who the hell is Paxter Redwyne? Exactly.

+.+.+

Euron Crow's Eye stood upon the deck of Silence, clad in a suit of black scale armor like nothing Aeron had ever seen before. Dark as smoke it was, but Euron wore it as easily as if it was the thinnest silk. The scales were edged in red gold, and gleamed and shimmered when they moved. Patterns could be seen within the metal, whorls and glyphs and arcane symbols folded into the steel.

Valyrian steel, the Damphair knew. His armor is Valyrian steel. In all the Seven Kingdoms, no man owned a suit of Valyrian steel. Such things had been known 400 years ago, in the days before the Doom, but even then, they would've cost a kingdom.

Euron did not lie. He has been to Valyria. No wonder he was mad.

I bet he looks better in this armour than any pigment-challenged, scrawny, inbred, mole rat-esque Targaryen ever has. How could she resist? He's Drogon in human form.

I'm still on the Reader's side: I don't believe Euron has set foot in Valyria. No clue where he got that snazzy outfit, though. Although, someone ought to let him know that wearing armour on a ship is asking for trouble.

+.+.+

"Your Grace," said Torwold Browntooth. "I have the priests. What do you want done with them?"

"Bind them to the prows," Euron commanded. "My brother on the Silence. Take one for yourself. Let them dice for the others, one to a ship. Let them feel the spray, the kiss of the Drowned God, wet and salty."

[...]

They bound Aeron Damphair tight with strips of leather that would shrink when wet, clad only in his beard and breechclout. The Crow's Eye spoke a command; a black sail was raised, lines were cast off, and the Silence backed away from shore to the slow beat of the oarmaster's drum, her oars rising and dipping and rising again, churning the water. Above them, the castle was burning, flames licking from the open windows.

When they were well out to sea, Euron returned to him. "Brother," he said, "you look forlorn. I have a gift for you."

He beckoned, and two of his bastard sons dragged the woman forward and bound her to the prow on the other side of the figurehead. Naked as the mouthless maiden, her smooth belly just beginning to swell with the child she was carrying, her cheeks red with tears, she did not struggle as the boys tightened her bonds. Her hair hung down in front of her face, but Aeron knew her all the same.

"Falia Flowers," he called. "Have courage, girl! All this will be over soon, and we will feast together in the Drowned God's watery halls."

The girl raised up her head, but made no answer. She has no tongue to answer with, the Damphair knew. He licked his lips, and tasted salt.

I continue to have no words for Falia Flowers. Sad stuff.

Looks like Euron is planning a massive blood sacrifice featuring a pregnant woman, and a bunch of priests.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't Daenerys sacrifice an unborn child, and a priestess of the Great Shepherd of Lhazar to wake the dragons? Just saying.

Final thoughts:

I'm not convinced anyone on the brink of death could survive being tied to the prow of a ship, but given there wasn't a speck of blood in sight, my guess is we'll be seeing Aeron Dam-phair again.

Next chapter: Theon I

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[istumpysk]

I have a promise to make!

I have a handful of days off starting tomorrow. If I can’t force myself to look at the summary, I’ll move on to the remaining TWOW chapters, and leave the ADWD/TWOW summaries for last.

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

TWOW: Arianne II

The Peregrine made port at the Weeping Town, where the corpse of the Young Dragon had once lingered for three days on its journey home from Dorne.

Could be relevant.

The Dornish prince was three days dying. - The Queen's Hand, ADWD

+.+.+

The town was large enough to support three inns, and all their common rooms were rife with rumors. Arianne sent her men into each of them, to hear what they might hear. In the Broken Shield, Daemon Sand was told that the great septry on the Holf of Men had been burned and looted by raiders from the sea, and a hundred young novices from the motherhouse on Maiden Isle carried off into slavery. In the Loon, Joss Hood learned that half a hundred men and boys from the Weeping Town had set off north to join Jon Connington at Griffin's Roost, including young Ser Addam, old Lord Whitehead's son and heir. But in the aptly named Drunken Dornishman, Feathers heard men muttering that the griffin had put Red Ronnet's brother to death and raped his maiden sister. Ronnet himself was said to be rushing south to avenge his brother's death and his sister's dishonor. That night Arianne dispatched the first of her ravens back to Dorne, reporting to her father on all they'd seen and heard. 

I'm going to laugh if she's sending him a bunch of gossip and hearsay.

"Send a raven whenever you have news," Prince Doran told her, "but report only what you know to be true. We are lost in fog here, besieged by rumors, falsehoods, and traveler's tales. I dare not act until I know for a certainty what is happening." - Arianne I, TWOW

For the record, Jon Connington didn't actually kill Red Ronnet's brother, or rape his maiden sister. However, he's currently holding his own family hostage, one of his men threw a maester from a tower, and only four of the castle garrison survived the attack.

Similar to Daenerys Targaryen in Slaver's Bay, sometimes knowing the truth of a situation doesn't bring much more reassurance.

+.+.+

Huge willows grew along the watercourses, larger than any that Arianne had ever seen, their great trunks as gnarled and twisted as an old man's face and festooned with beards of silvery moss. Trees pressed close on every side, shutting out the sun; hemlock and red cedars, white oaks, soldier pines that stood as tall and straight as towers, colossal sentinels, big-leaf maples, redwoods, wormtrees, even here and there a wild weirwood.

I don't think this is anything, but I get paranoid.

+.+.+

Arianne had once heard her father and Maester Caleotte arguing with a septon about why the north and south sides of the Sea of Dorne were so different. The septon thought it was because of Durran Godsgrief, the first Storm King, who had stolen the daughter of the sea god and the goddess of the wind and earned their eternal emnity. Prince Doran and the maester inclined more toward wind and water, and spoke of how the big storms that formed down in the Summer Sea would pick up moisture moving north until they slammed into Cape Wrath. For some strange reason the storms never seemed to strike at Dorne, she recalled her father saying. "I know your reason," the septon had responded. "No Dornishmen ever stole away the daughter of two gods."

It's astonishing to me that a priest lacks understanding of the scientific field of meteorology.

For some strange reason the storms never seemed to strike at Dorne

+.+.+

The princess lost another game of cyvasse to Daemon Sand, won one from Joss Hood, then retired as the two of them began to teach Jayne Ladybright the rules. She was tired of such games.

There ya go!

You better not be tired.

+.+.+

Nym and Tyene may have reached King's Landing by now, she mused, as she settled down crosslegged by the mouth of the cave to watch the falling rain. If not they ought to be there soon.

Yeah? Is that what you'd like me to believe, George?

Boy, I'm eagerly anticipating the amusing antics that will unfold between Cersei Lannister, the High Sparrow, Nym Sand, and Tyene Sand. That's definitely a plot you can count on happening, no shadow of a doubt.

+.+.+

Prince Trystane had remained safely back at Sunspear, after a tearful parting from Princess Myrcella. 

That moment you realize nowhere in Dorne is safe.

Reminds me of this one:

Steffon and Stannis were thousands of leagues from the fighting and safe from harm, but Devan was at Castle Black, a squire to the king. - Davos II, ADWD

Nope!

+.+.+

That accounts for one brother, thought Arianne, but where is Quentyn, if not with the griffin? Had he wed his dragon queen? King Quentyn. It still sounded silly. This new Daenerys Targaryen was younger than Arianne by half a dozen years. What would a maid that age want with her dull, bookish brother? Young girls dreamed of dashing knights with wicked smiles, not solemn boys who always did their duty. She will want Dorne, though. If she hopes to sit the Iron Throne, she must have Sunspear. If Quentyn was the price for that, this dragon queen would pay it. What if she was at Griffin's End with Connington, and all this about another Targaryen was just some sort of subtle ruse? Her brother could well be with her. King Quentyn. Will I need to kneel to him?

You are too old to be acting like this.

+.+.+

No good would come of wondering about it. Quentyn would be king or he would not. I pray Daenerys treats him him more gently than she did her own brother.

The irony of this thought occurring immediately after she ponders the absurdity of her own brother as king shouldn't be lost on you.

+.+.+

It was only as she settled down that Arianne realized Elia Sand had not returned from her explorations.  [...] The cave proved much deeper than any of them had suspected. Beyond the stony mouth where her company had made their camp and hobbled their horses, a series of twisty passageways led down and down, with black holes snaking off to either side. Further in, the walls opened up again, and the searchers found themselves in a vast limestone cavern, larger than the great hall of a castle. Their shouts disturbed a nest of bats, who flapped about them noisily, but only distant echoes shouted back. A slow circuit of the hall revealed three further passages, one so small that it would have required them to proceed on hands and knees.

Giving House of the Undying, House of Black and White, and Red Keep vibes.

+.+.+

And all at once she found herself in another cavern, five times as big as the last one, surrounded by a forest of stone columns. Daemon Sand moved to her side and raised his torch. "Look how the stone's been shaped," he said. "Those columns, and the wall there. See them?" "Faces," said Arianne. So many sad eyes, staring. "This place belonged to the children of the forest." "A thousand years ago." Arianne turned her head. "Listen. Is that Joss?" It was. The other searchers had found Elia, as she and Daemon learned after they made their way back up the slippery slope to the last hall. 

Wait a second, I know this scene!

Are you telling me that wasn't real?

Okay, but what about this?

↓ 

Might I ask about these corpses in the ice cells? They make the men uneasy. And to keep them under guard? Surely that is a waste of two good men, unless you fear that they …"

"… will rise? I pray they do." - Jon VIII, ADWD

x

"Thrice I flew Silverwing high above Castle Black, and thrice I tried to take her north beyond the Wall," Alysanne wrote to Jaehaerys, "but every time she veered back south again and refused to go. Never before has she refused to take me where I wished to go." - Fire & Blood

Shit!

Okay, but what about this?

↓

Mormont snorted. "Because I sent him, why do you think? He's bringing the hand your Ghost tore off the end of Jafer Flowers's wrist. I have commanded him to take ship to King's Landing and lay it before this boy king. That should get young Joffrey's attention, I'd think … and Ser Alliser's a knight, highborn, anointed, with old friends at court, altogether harder to ignore than a glorified crow." - Jon VIII, AGOT 

Shit!

Okay, but what about this?

↓ 

The Cinnamon Wind was spinning all around them and he could taste the rum on Gilly's tongue and the next thing her breasts were bare and he was touching them. - Samwell IV, AFFC

Shit!

Gosh, it's almost as if the creators of Game of Thrones pulled an entire season and romance from their ass.

+.+.+

Their passageway led down to a still black pool, where they discovered the girl up to her waist in water, catching blind white fish with her bare hands, her torch burning red and smoky in the sand where she had planted it.

That black pool sounds familiar.

Blind white fish swam in the black river, but they tasted just as good as fish with eyes once you cooked them up. - Bran III, ADWD

Where else does this river go?

+.+.+

"I caught two fish," said Elia Sand. "You could have died," said Arianne again. Her words echoed off the cavern walls. "… died … died … died …"

A bit ominous.

+.+.+

"Elia, this must end," she told her. "We are not in Dorne now. You are not with your sisters, and this is not a game. I want your word that you will play the maidservant until we are safely back at Sunspear. I want you meek and mild and obedient. You need to hold your tongue. I'll hear no more talk of Lady Lance or jousting, no mention of your father or your sisters. The men that I must treat with are sellswords. Today they serve this man who calls himself Jon Connington, but come the morrow they could just as easily serve the Lannisters. All it takes to win a sellsword's heart is gold, and Casterly Rock does not lack for that. If the wrong man should learn who you are, you could be seized and held for ransom–"

[...]

"You are a Sand Snake, and Prince Doran would pay any price to keep you and your sisters safe from harm." That made the child smile at least. "Do I have your sworn word? Or must I send you back?"

"I swear." Elia did not sound happy.

"On your father's bones."

"On my father's bones."

That vow she will keep, Arianne decided. She kissed her cousin on the cheek and sent her off to sleep. Perhaps some good would come of her adventure. "I never knew how wild she was till now," Arianne complained to Daemon Sand, afterward. "Why would my father inflict her on me?" "Vengeance?" the knight suggested, with a smile.

Later:

Arianne was on her way back to her own chamber when she heard muffled laughter from the adjoining room. She paused and listened for a moment, then pushed the door open to find Elia Sand curled up in a window seat, kissing Feathers.

[...]

"Feathers is a man." A serving man, but still a man. It did not escape the princess that Elia was the same age she had been when she gave her maidenhead to Daemon Sand. 

Lmao.

This is why I'm never having children. I would be cursed with raising another version of myself.

+.+.+

Mistfall's new sellsword masters called themselves Young John Mudd and Chain. Both knights, to hear them tell it. Neither behaved like any knight that Arianne had ever met. Mudd wore brown from head to heel, the same shade as his skin, but a pair of golden coins dangled from his ears. The Mudds had been kings up by the Trident a thousand years ago, she knew, but there was nothing royal about this one. Nor was he particularly young, but it seemed his father had also served in the Golden Company, where he had been known as Old John Mudd.

That's considered fAegon evidence.

Young John Mudd (Young Griff), son of Old John Mudd of the Golden Company, bears the name of previous kings in Westeros. However, it's clear there's no real ancestral ties to that royal bloodline.

+.+.+

At evenfall a fine supper was served to them in the solar, high in the Tower of Owls, where they were joined by the dowager Lady Mertyns and her maester. Though a captive in her own castle, the old woman seemed spry and cheerful. "My sons and grandsons went off when Lord Renly called his banners," she told the princess and her party. "I have not seen them since, though from time to time they send a raven. One of my grandsons took a wound at the Blackwater, but he's since recovered. I expect they will return here soon enough to hang this lot of thieves." She waved a duck leg at Mudd and Chain across the table. "We are no thieves," said Mudd. "We're foragers." "Did you buy all that food down in the yard?" "We foraged it," said Mudd. “The smallfolk can grow more. We serve your rightful king, old crone.” He seemed to be enjoying this. “You should learn to speak more courteous to knights.”

"If you two are knights, I'm still a maiden," said Lady Mertyns. "And I'll speak as I please. What will you do, kill me? I have lived too long already."

Princess Arianne said, "Have you been treated well, my lady?"

"I have not been raped, if that is what you're asking," the old woman said. "Some of the serving girls have been less fortunate. Married or unmarried, the men make no distinctions."

"No one's been doing any raping," insisted Young John Mudd. "Connington won't have that. We follow orders."

Chain nodded. "Some girls was persuaded, might be."

"The same way our smallfolk were persuaded to give you all their crops. Melons or maidenheads, it's all the same to your sort. If you want it, you take it." Lady Mertyns turned to Arianne. "If you should see this Lord Connington, you tell him that I knew his mother, and she would be ashamed." Perhaps I shall, the princess thought.

Might as well start the obituaries now.

+.+.+

That night when she told Ser Daemon what Chain had said, the Bastard of Godsgrace seemed as perplexed as she was. "Storm's End was still held by men loyal to Lord Stannis when last I heard. You would think Connington might do better to make common cause with another rebel, rather than making war upon him too." "Stannis is too far away to be of help to him," Arianne mused. "Capturing a few minor castles whilst their lords and garrisons are off at distant wars, that's one thing, but if Lord Connington and his pet dragon can somehow take one of the great strongholds of the realm …" "…the realm would have to take them seriously," Ser Daemon finished.

Including Daenerys!

+.+.+

Near dusk on the fourth day, not long after Chain and his wagons had taken their leave of them, Arianne's company was met by a column of sellswords down from Griffin's Roost, led by the most exotic creature that the princess had ever laid her eyes on, with painted fingernails and gemstones sparkling in his ears.

Lysono Maar spoke the Common Tongue very well. "I have the honor to be the eyes and ears of the Golden Company, princess."

"You look…" She hesitated.

"…like a woman?" He laughed. "That I am not."

"…like a Targaryen," Arianne insisted. His eyes were a pale lilac, his hair a waterfall of white and gold. All the same, something about him made her skin crawl. Was this what Viserys looked like? she found herself wondering. If so perhaps it is a good thing he is dead.

(Please give yourself a moment to laugh at her discomfort at the sight of someone resembling a Targaryen.)

That's considered fAegon evidence.

It's another reminder that people from Lys have the Targaryen look.

"Your Grace is kind," said Waters with a smile. A wicked smile, the queen thought. Aurane did not resemble Prince Rhaegar as much as she had thought. He has the hair, but so do half the whores in Lys, if the tales are true. Rhaegar was a man. This is a sly boy, no more. Useful in his way, though. - Cersei VIII, AFFC

↓ 

"Serra. I found her in a Lysene pillow house and brought her home to warm my bed, but in the end I wed her. Me, whose first wife had been a cousin of the Prince of Pentos. The palace gates were closed to me thereafter, but I did not care. The price was small enough, for Serra." - Tyrion II, ADWD

Somewhat worrisome, because Aegon also resembles young Illyrio.

A naked boy stood on the water, poised to duel with a bravo's blade in hand. He was lithe and handsome, no older than sixteen, with straight blond hair that brushed his shoulders. So lifelike did he seem that it took the dwarf a long moment to realize he was made of painted marble, though his sword shimmered like true steel. - tyrion I, ADWD

↓ 

He was a lithe and well-made youth, with a lanky build and a shock of dark blue hair. The dwarf put his age at fifteen, sixteen, or near enough to make no matter. - Tyrion III, ADWD

+.+.+

"I am flattered. The women of House Targaryen are said to be without peer in all the world."

"And the men of House Targaryen?"

"Oh, even prettier. Though if truth be told, I have only seen the one."

That's considered fAegon evidence. The author made it ambiguous.

Lysono Maar is the spymaster for the Golden Company, it's possible he's met Viserys Targaryen.

Her brother Viserys had once feasted the captains of the Golden Company, in hopes they might take up his cause. They ate his food and heard his pleas and laughed at him. - Daenerys III, ADWD

+.+.+

"Do you play cyvasse, my lord?" asked Arianne. "My father has been teaching me. I am not very skilled, I must confess, but I do know that the dragon is stronger than the elephant." "The Golden Company was founded by a dragon." "Bittersteel was half-dragon, and all bastard. I am no maester, but I know some history. You are still sellswords." "If it please you, princess," he said, all silken courtesy. "We prefer to call ourselves a free brotherhood of exiles." "As you will. As free brothers go, your company stands well above the rest, I grant you. Yet the Golden Company has been defeated every time it has crossed into Westeros. They lost when Bittersteel commanded them, they failed the Blackfyre Pretenders, they faltered when Maelys the Monstrous led them." That seemed to amuse him.

That's considered fAegon evidence.

He might find it amusing if he knows they have another Blackfyre.

+.+.+

By midmorning a light rain began to fall, as they were making their way north through a land of green fields and little villages. 

x

The rain still fell, soft and steady. The sound of moisture dripping off the leaves was all around them, and every mile or so the music of another little waterfall would call to them.

x

They travelled to the music of steady, lashing rains beating at the treetops up above, though underneath the green great canopy of leaves and branches she and her riders stayed surprisingly dry. 

x

And finally Griffin's Roost emerged from the sea mists, on a grey wet day as the rain fell thin and cold. 

Rain falling from start to finish...

+.+.+

"Has no one told you?" Halden Halfmaester favored her with a smile thin and hard as a dagger cut. "Storm's End is ours. The Hand awaits you there." Daemon Sand stepped up beside her. "Shipbreaker Bay can be perilous even on a fair summer's day. The safer way to Storm's End is overland." "These rains have turned the roads to mud. The journey would take two days, perhaps three," said Halden Halfmaester. A ship will have the princess there in half a day or less. There is an army descending on Storm's End from King's Landing. You will want to be safe inside the walls before the battle." Will we? Wondered Arianne. "Battle? Or siege?" She did not intend to let herself be trapped inside Storm's End. "Battle," Halden said firmly. "Prince Aegon means to smash his enemies in the field."

Let's talk about a few things.

One.

Previously covered in ADWD's Epilogue.

There's two hosts in King's Landing, both belonging to the Reach.

Randyll Tarly and Mace Tyrell had both brought armies to King's Landing, whilst the best part of the strength of House Lannister remained in the riverlands, fast melting away. - Epilogue, ADWD

Mace Tyrell intended to deal with Aegon and the Golden Company after Margaery's and Cersei's trials.

"[...] we must destroy Connington and his pretender now, before Daenerys Stormborn can come west."

Mace Tyrell crossed his arms. "I mean to do just that, ser. After the trials." - Epilogue, ADWD

If Cersei carries out a massively destructive and violent act at that trial, causing significant harm to House Tyrell (and we have a lot of reasons to believe she will), then it seems logical to conclude that the host coming from King's Landing intends to join Aegon, not fight him.

"… as for Connington," Tyrell repeated, "what victories has he ever won that we should fear him? He could have ended Robert's Rebellion at Stoney Sept. He failed. Just as the Golden Company has always failed. Some may rush to join them, aye. The realm is well rid of such fools." - Epilogue, ADWD

Two.

"Battle," Halden said firmly. "Prince Aegon means to smash his enemies in the field."

Once again, the author is reinforcing the idea that Aegon is lacking necessary skills for this job.

In Jon Connington's last chapter, we learned the Golden Company does not currently have the strength to face enemies in the field.

The great beasts would be useful in a pitched battle, no doubt, but it would be some time before they had the strength to face their foes in the field. - The Griffin Reborn, ADWD

Now, at Aegon's command, they're going to ABANDON THE WALLS OF STORM'S END, and meet the King's Landing host in an open field.

That is unbelievably stupid, and the only reason it won't end in disaster is because the Tyrell host probably isn't coming to fight.

Regardless, what is it telling us about the future?

Ser Jorah considered that for a moment. "Robert should have been born Dothraki," he said at last. "Your khal would tell you that only a coward hides behind stone walls instead of facing his enemy with a blade in hand. The Usurper would agree. He is a strong man, brave … and rash enough to meet a Dothraki horde in the open field. But the men around him, well, their pipers play a different tune. His brother Stannis, Lord Tywin Lannister, Eddard Stark …" He spat. - Daenerys IV, AGOT

This is the problem with Jon Connington: he's dying, therefore he's no longer patient.

He will allow Aegon to be reckless, and use flawed strategy.

" … once we have Storm's End . . ."

The princess let that aside go without comment, though it gave her considerable pause. Storm's End. This griffin is a bold one, it would seem. Or else a fool. The seat of House Baratheon for three centuries, of the ancient Storm Kings for thousands of years before that, Storm’s End was said by some to be impregnable. Arianne had heard men argue about which was the strongest castle in the realm.

Three.

Has this girl lost her mind? Why would you voluntarily go to Storm's End when an army is descending upon it?

Catelyn Stark also found herself in the middle of a dispute at Storm's End, but Catelyn Stark isn't the heir to Dorne.

+.+.+

"Your brother is not at Storm's End, we know that now," Ser Daemon said, as soon as they were behind closed doors. "If Daenerys Targaryen has dragons, they are half a world away, and of no use to Dorne. There is nothing for us at Storm's End, princess. If Prince Doran meant to send you into the middle of a battle, he would have given you three hundred knights, not three."

Do not be so certain of that, ser. He sent my brother off to Slaver's Bay with five knights and a maester. "I need to speak with Connington." Arianne undid the interlocked sun and spear that clasped her cloak, and let the rain-soaked garment slip from her shoulders to puddle on the floor. "And I want to see this dragon prince of his. If he is truly Elia's son…"

"Whoever's son he is, if Connington challenges Mace Tyrell in open battle he may soon be a captive, or a corpse."

"Tyrell is not a man to fear. My uncle Oberyn–"

" –is dead, princess. And ten thousand men is equal to the whole strength of the Golden Company."

"Lord Connington knows his own strength, surely. If he means to risk battle, he must believe that he can win it."

"And how many men have died in battles they believed that they could win?" Ser Daemon asked her. "Refuse them, princess. I mistrust these sellswords. Do not go to Storm's End."

I think it's a little concerning that the designated Voice of Reason doesn't want her going any further in this journey.

+.+.+

"Ser Daemon, you squired for my uncle Oberyn," she said. "If you were with him now, would you be counseling him to refuse as well?" She did not wait for him to respond. "I know the answer. And if you are about to remind me that I am no Red Viper, I know that too. But Prince Oberyn is dead, Prince Doran is old and ill, and I am the heir to Dorne."

"And that is why you should not put yourself at risk." Daemon Sand went to one knee. "Send me to Storm's End in your stead. Then if the griffin's plans should go awry and Mace Tyrell takes the castle back, I will be just another landless knight who swore his sword to this pretender in hopes of gain and glory."

Whereas if I am taken, the Iron Throne will take that for proof that Dorne conspired with these sellswords, and lent aid to their invasion. "It is brave for you to seek to shield me, ser. I thank you for that." She took his hands and drew him back to his feet. "But my father entrusted this task to me, not you. Come the morrow, I sail to beard the dragon in its den."

Yeah, I don't have a good feeling about any of this.

I don't think the danger is the host coming from King's Landing. I think it's the decisions she makes after that.

Final thoughts:

What happens when Daemon Sand is the more likeable man in the love triangle?

Let it be known, I'm Team Bastard of Godgrace. I'll let you guys enjoy the one assuming the role of Joffrey.

Next chapter: The Forsaken (Aeron Dam-phair)

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