#roland (false throne)

[jerichosuffers]

He

[m0ch1gh0st1]

I HAVE AN URGE

I feel like drawing Wallace and Steven in a couple of E.G.O Suits from Library of Ruina

Specifically False Throne and The Homing Instinct [or whatever this one is called]

For reference, this is False Throne...

And this is The Homing Instinct...

I WANNA DO THIS

Or should I do Wallace in this one?

I totally wanna do this just so I can have an excuse to draw Steven in a dress

I'll put up a poll for Wallace's suits tomorrow morning, but Steven is getting False Throne. 100%

[just-a-girl-with-a-pistol]

I gave this man a silly hat because uhhhh :>

[wyvernwyrm]

[Image ID: a digital drawing of Roland from Library of Ruina with black and greenish-grey background. He is portrayed in his False Throne form from Social Sciences Realization bossfight. He is facing to the right but looks at the viewer. His clawed right hand in a black glove is being held near his face in a thoughtful manner. His black hair is nearly shoulder-lenght. He wears a black dress with green gems decorating his chest. /.End ID]

False Throne Roland I sent you my marriage papers please respond

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Light Leaves

Author's notes: Alpharius in Living Water AU. Thank you for @egrets-not-regrets for letting me borrow Mara. Thank you for @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Cedric.

Past =-= Next

Warnings: None that I can think of, let me know If I need to add anything.

Summary: More talking continues. The Baby Space Marines make Rude Faces at the Alpha Legion.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k, @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual @thevoidscreams

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Orlys stares and blinks at her, he wonders why it is that things go to shit on his shift. He’s the second youngest of the squad of Alpha Legion run by Apothecary Zariel. Who is not going to be happy about this new development.

“We are cautious of mers- your kind and ours can fight over resources and have killed one another before,” Mara states, “We take poorly to liars and those who could harm our Colony.”

“I mean you and your Colony do no harm,” Orlys says honestly. 

He is sending an urgent text vox message to the rest of the about the developing situation and tries to think of what it is he should do next. Mara tilts her head in a bird-like fashion, eyeing him, judging his words for the truth within them, and if she believes that or not.

“Hm,” Mara says unconvinced of his honesty, “You will remain here, some of the other mer-space marines are arriving soon and we have wanted you to meet them for some time. Somehow you and whoever else is with you, never seem to meet.”

Orlys tries not to visibly blanch as he mentally swears and runs through the different scenarios he could figure out on what to do next and he asks, “Who’s arriving?”

“Jophie, Cedric, and Claude,” Mara says, “As a start, Catius and Ramiel will be arriving in a few days. If we need to have some of the older of your kindred here, I can and will ask Lenora if her Erriox is available to help. Or- Ramiel and Cedric will ask their older brothers Roland and Arnault to help us deal with you.”

“That seems a little… excessive,” Orlys says as he tries not to swear out loud as he reads the responses from the rest of his squad.

“I think,” A scout aged voice calls out, “it’s entirely necessary.”

Orlys turns to look and spots a scowling Scout-aged Blood Angel Space Marine with wings, not in the white of the Great Angel, but in the colors and patterning of Osprey. Next, swimming from different angles, the other little shits, trying to flank him in a pincer move is one of the Black Templar Primaris Marines and a… Raven Guard? He thinks the other Scout is a Raven Guard… possibly a young Night Lord.

What Orlys did not know is that the little ‘Raven Guard’ had noticed him first and spotted the teal hiding underneath the Black and White of the colors that he was falsely wearing and had warned the other two in advance.

“IMPOSTER!” Orlys hears and tries to argue, and whirls around trying to say or do something when he gets hit by something very large and very fast.

“By the Throne,” Orlys yelps as he gets a good look at his attacker. 

It’s the out-of-armor, Apothecary Black Templary doing his best to try and chew on his fins and trying to attack him. He uses a couple of moves and gets out of the hold as he says, “Scouts stop.”

“Heretic!” is angry response that he gets from the Scout-ling. 

“I am not a Heretic,” Orlys says, trying to say something else, but is interrupted by the fiercely scowling Baby Apothecary Black Templar.

“Traitor! Liar!” He snarls in response, “Alpha Legion.”

“Now that’s not a nice thing to accuse someone of without proof,” Orlys says as the rest of the Scouts start to descend and ascend and swirl around him.

There is a clapping sound, and all of the space marines turn towards the Harpies. Mara called out, “Fledglings, please don’t attack him yet.”

The squad of terrors stops their hostile movements and they chirp up at her all cute and sweet, the little brats, a, “yes ma’am!”

“I informed Erriox that there is an Alpha legionnaire… possibly a squad that’s been pestering the Colony,” Jophiel reports to Mara after a few moments of quiet.

“Now why did you have to inflict a Loyalist Iron Warrior on me?” Orlys says indignant, “I haven’t done anything to you all to deserve that.”

“You are Alpha legion,” They all hissed in angry unison at him with angry baby space marine scowls at him. 

Oh great, the Baby Ultramarine was nearby as well. Just what was fracking needed. Where by the Throne is the rest of the squad of Ultramarines (because Scout aged Ultramarines never, unless the circumstances are dire, go anywhere in less than a pack of five, with a Veteran Sergeant to watch them carefully).

“What is an Alpha legion?” Mara asks, “And why does potentially being one make you boys so upset?”

They snap to attention briefly and explain an, entirely unfair and very unflattering description of what the Alpha Legion is and what they do. Makes them sound like face stealing bastards that ruined perfectly good people for shits and giggles and for their own mysterious missions that tended to run counter to whatever it was that everyone else was doing. Chaos, Renegade, Loyalist, all were fucked over by the Alpha Legion.

“Our legion does more than that,” Zariel calls out, giving the signal and Orlys sighs and relaxing a little.

All of them are now in their true colors of teal, rather than in the Black and White that they had approached the Gannet harpies in originally. The Primars Marines are still eyeing the, and looking half ready to lunge at and try to attack the lot of them.

“Why did you approach us?” Mara asks Zariel, as he was the one to speak, and is the one in front, while the rest of his squad are in a loose semi-circle behind him, quietly watching what is going on.

“... Our legion collects knowledge,” Zariel explains.

He knows that if he isn’t truthful, that they could lose the bond they have with Lana. Among other things, he does not want to have the Bond break. Despite the massive discomfort he’s feeling at revealing truths to so many. 

Half of the colony is watching and listening in, and the fact that a mixed squad of baby scouts were watching them and likely recording this to immediately send to their superiors was going to make things more… complicated for them in the future.

[ladyofasoiaf]

I cant believe in reading a sansa stan calling her beautiful 😂 she isnt, get over it and read the books.

Hello Anon,

Who is *her*?

Ary@? Dandy? I don't remember calling them beautiful?

It can't be Sansa, for sure.

Imagine being so suppressed by the beauty of a 13 yo FICTIONAL girl that you start to disconnect from reality.

Reality: SANSA'S BEAUTY & BOOK QUOTES

Anyway let's read the books again, just for you this time (and I will be using colors, it might be more useful considering your age):

Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey's pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell's Great Hall.

A Game of Thrones - Jon I

*-*

"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."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

"You do look quite exquisite, child," Lady Olenna Tyrell told Sansa when she tottered up to them in a cloth-of-gold gown that must have weighed more than she did. "The wind has been at your hair, though."

A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

*-*

I must ask after Sansa. How else will I find her? She cleared her throat. "Goodwife," she said to the woman on the turnip cart, "perhaps you saw my sister on the road? A young maid, three-and-ten and fair of face, with blue eyes and auburn hair. She may be riding with a drunken knight."

A Feast for Crows - Brienne II

*-*

The girl was too young and too plain to be Sansa Stark, but she was of the right age to be the younger sister, and even Lady Catelyn had said that Arya lacked her sister's beauty.

A Feast for Crows - Brienne VII

*-*

Lord Littlefinger kissed her cheek. "With my wits and Cat's beauty, the world will be yours, sweetling. Now off to bed."

A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

*-*

"Had we known such beauty awaited us at the Gates, we would have flown," Ser Roland said. Though his words were addressed to Myranda Royce, he smiled at Alayne as he said them.

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

Sansa Stark looked especially lovely this morning, though her face was as pale as milk.

A Clash of Kings - Tyrion VI

*-*

Sansa closed the shutters and turned sharply away from the window. "You look very lovely today, my lady," Ser Arys said.

A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

*-*

"Leave the colors to me, my lady. You will be pleased, I know you will. You shall have smallclothes and hose as well, kirtles and mantles and cloaks, and all else befitting a... a lovely young lady of noble birth."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

*-*

When the moonstones hung from Sansa's ears and about her neck, the queen nodded. "Yes. The gods have been kind to you, Sansa. You are a lovely girl. It seems almost obscene to squander such sweet innocence on that gargoyle."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

"My lady," Tyrion said, "you are lovely, make no mistake, but . . . I cannot do this. My father be damned. We will wait. The turn of a moon, a year, a season, however long it takes. Until you have come to know me better, and perhaps to trust me a little." His smile might have been meant to be reassuring, but without a nose it only made him look more grotesque and sinister.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Her maids were dressing her when Tyrion appeared, Podrick Payne in tow. "You look lovely, Sansa." He turned to his squire. "Pod, be so good as to pour me a cup of wine."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

*-*

And false. Sansa, Shae, all my women … Tysha was the only one who ever loved me. Where do whores go? "A lovely girl," said Tyrion, "and we were joined beneath the eyes of gods and men. It may be that she is lost to me, but until I know that for a certainty I must be true to her."

A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion IX

*-*

"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."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

She frowned down at them with dismay and glanced over to where her sister Sansa sat among the other girls. Sansa's needlework was exquisite. Everyone said so. "Sansa's work is as pretty as she is," Septa Mordane told their lady mother once. "She has such fine, delicate hands."

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

*-*

"He's going to marry her," little Beth said dreamily, hugging herself. "Then Sansa will be queen of all the realm."

Sansa had the grace to blush. She blushed prettily. She did everything prettily, Arya thought with dull resentment.

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

*-*

"Lady," he said, tasting the name. He had never paid much attention to the names the children had picked, but looking at her now, he knew that Sansa had chosen well. She was the smallest of the litter, the prettiest, the most gentle and trusting. She looked at him with bright golden eyes, and he ruffled her thick grey fur.

A Game of Thrones - Eddard III

*-*

A pity Ned Stark had taken his daughters south; elsewise Theon could have tightened his grip on Winterfell by marrying one of them. Sansa was a pretty little thing too, and by now likely even ripe for bedding. But she was a thousand leagues away, in the clutches of the Lannisters. A shame.

A Clash of Kings - Theon IV

*-*

"I will sing it for you gladly."

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

A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

*-*

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

A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

*-*

"Leave her face," Joffrey commanded. "I like her pretty."

A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

*-*

"Didn't you ever have a brother you wanted to kill?" He laughed again. "Or maybe a sister?" He must have seen something in her face then, for he leaned closer. "Sansa. That's it, isn't it? The wolf bitch wants to kill the pretty bird."

A Storm of Swords - Arya IX

*-*

Jaime found himself wondering if Brienne might have passed this way before him. If she thought that Sansa Stark had made for Riverrun . . . Had they encountered other travelers, he might have stopped to ask if any of them had chance to see a pretty maid with auburn hair, or a big ugly one with a face that would curdle milk. But there was no one on the roads but wolves, and their howling held no answers.

A Feast for Crows - Jaime III

*-*

Petyr put a finger under her chin. "That Royce glimpsed this pretty face I do not doubt, but it was one face in a thousand. A man fighting in a tourney has more to concern him than some child in the crowd. And at Winterfell, Sansa was a little girl with auburn hair. My daughter is a maiden tall and fair, and her hair is chestnut. Men see what they expect to see, Alayne."

A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

*-*

Ser Loras had given Sansa Stark a red rose once, but he had never kissed her . . . and no Tyrell would ever kiss Alayne Stone. Pretty as she was, she had been born on the wrong side of the blanket.

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

She studied Alayne's face and chest. "You are prettier than me, but my breasts are larger.

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

Sansa was the pretty one. He remembered a time when he had thought that Lord Eddard Stark might marry him to Sansa and claim him for a son, but that had only been a child's fancy.

A Dance with Dragons - Reek I

*-*

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."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

"Joffrey likes your sister," Jeyne whispered, proud as if she had something to do with it. She was the daughter of Winterfell's steward and Sansa's dearest friend. "He told her she was very beautiful."

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

*-*

Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother's fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys.

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

*-*

When the white horse stopped in front of her, she thought her heart would burst.To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. "Sweet lady," he said, "no victory is half so beautiful as you." Sansa took the flower timidly, struck dumb by his gallantry.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

*-*

"Sweet Sansa," Queen Cersei said, laying a soft hand on her wrist. "Such a beautiful child. I do hope you know how much Joffrey and I love you."

A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

*-*

She was dressed in mourning, as a sign of respect for the dead king, but she had taken special care to make herself beautiful.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa V

*-*

His smile emboldened her, made her feel beautiful and strong. He does love me, he does.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa V

*-*

"I will need hot water for my bath, please," she told them, "and perfume, and some powder to hide this bruise." The right side of her face was swollen and beginning to ache, but she knew Joffrey would want her to be beautiful.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

*-*

His brow was damp with sweat. "I saw Sansa at the court, the day Tyrion told me his terms. She looked most beautiful, my lady. Perhaps a, a bit wan. Drawn, as it were."

A Clash of Kings - Catelyn VI

*-*

"Sansa was a lady at three, always so courteous and eager to please. She loved nothing so well as tales of knightly valor. Men would say she had my look, but she will grow into a woman far more beautiful than I ever was, you can see that. I often sent away her maid so I could brush her hair myself. She had auburn hair, lighter than mine, and so thick and soft... the red in it would catch the light of the torches and shine like copper..."

A Clash of Kings - Catelyn VII

*-*

As they lurched into motion, Tyrion reclined on an elbow while Sansa sat staring at her hands. She is just as comely as the Tyrell girl. Her hair was a rich autumn auburn, her eyes a deep Tully blue. Grief had given her a haunted, vulnerable look; if anything, it had only made her more beautiful. He wanted to reach her, to break through the armor of her courtesy.

A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

*-*

Tyrion had never seen her look more lovely, yet she wore sorrow on those long satin sleeves. "Lady Sansa," he told her, "you shall be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight."

A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

*-*

"Ser Loras," she finally managed, "you.. you look so lovely."

He gave her a puzzled smile. "My lady is too kind. And beautiful besides. My sister awaits you eagerly."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

*-*

"At the Hand's tourney, don't you remember? You rode a white courser, and your armor was a hundred different kinds of flowers. You gave me a rose. A red rose. You threw white roses to the other girls that day." It made her flush to speak of it. "You said no victory was half as beautiful as me."

Ser Loras gave her a modest smile. "I spoke only a simple truth, that any man with eyes could see."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

*-*

She wanted to look beautiful for Willas Tyrell. Even if Dontos was right, and it is Winterfell he wants and not me, he still may come to love me for myself.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

*-*

"You are very beautiful, my lady," the seamstress said when she was dressed.

"I am, aren't I?" Sansa giggled, and spun, her skirts swirling around her. "Oh, I am." She could not wait for Willas to see her like this. He will love me, he will, he must... he will forget Winterfell when he sees me, I'll see that he does.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Tyrion wore a doublet of black velvet covered with golden scrollwork, thigh-high boots that added three inches to his height, a chain of rubies and lions' heads. But the gash across his face was raw and red, and his nose was a hideous scab. "You are very beautiful, Sansa," he told her.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Ser Kevan told her she was beautiful, Jalabhar Xho said something she did not understand in the Summer Tongue, and Lord Redwyne wished her many fat children and long years of joy. And then the dance brought her face-to-face with Joffrey.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Littlefinger pointed out a cedar chest under the porthole. "You'll find fresh garb within. Dresses, smallclothes, warm stockings, a cloak. Wool and linen only, I fear. Unworthy of a maid so beautiful, but they'll serve to keep you dry and clean until we can find you something finer."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa V

*-*

"Marillion?" she said, uncertain. "You are... kind to think of me, but.. pray forgive me. I am very tired."

"And very beautiful.

All night I have been making songs for you in my head. A lay for your eyes, a ballad for your lips, a duet to your breasts. I will not sing them, though. They were poor things, unworthy of such beauty." He sat on her bed and put his hand on her leg. "Let me sing to you with my body instead."

She caught a whiff of his breath. "You're drunk."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI

*-*

"I wish you could see yourself, my lady. You are so beautiful. You're crusted over with snow like some little bear cub, but your face is flushed and you can scarcely breathe. How long have you been out here? You must be very cold. Let me warm you, Sansa. Take off those gloves, give me your hands."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

*-*

"But you're not, are you? You are Eddard Stark's daughter, and Cat's. But I think you might be even more beautiful than your mother was, when she was your age."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

*-*

"Do you require guarding?" Marillion said lightly. "I am composing a new song, you should know. A song so sweet and sad it will melt even your frozen heart. 'The Roadside Rose,' I mean to call it. About a baseborn girl so beautiful she bewitched every man who laid eyes upon her."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

*-*

"Have you no honor?" her aunt said sharply. "Or do you take me for a fool? You do, don't you? You take me for a fool. Yes, I see that now. I am not a fool. You think you can have any man you want because you're young and beautiful. Don't think I haven't seen the looks you give Marillion."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

*-*

"And you must be the Lord Protector's daughter," she added, as the bucket went rattling back up to the Eyrie. "I had heard that you were beautiful. I see that it is true."

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

"So you're brave as well as beautiful," Myranda said to her.

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

"Dutiful and beautiful," said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders.

"Aye," said the second knight, a burly fellow with a thick salt-and-pepper beard, a red nose bulbous with broken veins, and gnarled hands as large as hams. "You left out that part, m'lord."

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

"I was never beautiful like Sansa, but they all said I was pretty. Does Lord Ramsay think I am pretty?"

A Dance with Dragons - The Prince of Winterfell

*-*

"It was sweet," lied Tyrion, "but I am married. She was with me at the feast, you may remember her. Lady Sansa."

"Was she your wife? She … she was very beautiful …"

A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion IX

*-*

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."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

"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."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

"A beautiful bastard, and the Lord Protector's daughter." Petyr drew her close and kissed her on both cheeks. "The night belongs to you, sweetling, Remember that, always."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

[randomnameless]

Fic ideas for TS?

Well...

Bad Liberty ending :

Brother Serenor and Benedict are ruling over Glennbrook and are, they think, doing a splendid job, and to accomodate their ally Gustadolv, they give him back his bride, Cordelia.

Add to this a good dose of Gustadolv still biding his time because, duh, if Benedict is living his "Destra <3" power fantasy through her son, he buys Gustadolv's act of pretending to quit the "unification of Norzelia" under his banner.

Benedict and Serenor paid no attention to Cordelia - she can't be used to bolster Serenor's rise to royalty for Benedict so she's useless + Serenor is still not over betraying his BBF and actual brother Roland to get the throne so he doesn't feel comfortable talking to Cordelia - who's "suddenly" expecting Gustadolv's brat (not so suddenly, as we all know she "followed him to bed").

Aesfrost giving a lot of thoughts to the issue of children being legitimate - Cordelia and Gustadolv were totes married, thus the kid is Gustadolv's legitimate heir.

Of course, Gustadolv is an ass and can't help but brag about it and Benedict is honestly pissed, because if that brat sees the day, he'd have a claim to rule over Norzelia - at least from the Aesfrost side. Benedict's to go modus operandi is to get rid of it - Cornelia being, unfortunately, like her full blooded brother, a sad consequence - but at this point even Anna balks at the thought of killing an unborn kid and Cordelia.

Gustadolv and Cordelia, for the first time in their "totes happy" couple strike a common deal, against the Wolffort-bastard Glennbrook - Gustadolv because only Gustadolv can rule over the world (he wants to take Benedict's role as his brat would be the puppet ruler Serenor is), and Cordelia because she still cannot forgive how Serenor, Roland's BFF, threw him away and ruined his name to take over the throne (obviously she's not privy to everything that happened, TFW you can't vote) + the tidbit where he "returned" her to Gustadolv and the ultimate tidbit where he betrayed what Glennbrook stands for (or so she thinks), protecting the weak from the strong, and not adopting the "might makes right" Aesfrostian vision.

Cordelia's true goal is to smoke them all (Gustadolv+Serenor/Benedict) by making her kid the kind if benevolent and kind ruler Roland would have been (just like, she thinks, Regna was).

Of course it's never going to work, because this world doesn't work this way.

Aesfrost Jr thus has to compete for the united Norzellian throne with Wolffort/Glennbrook/Aesfrost/Rozelle Jr - Serenor's kid can count on Benedict and the former Wolfforts to support them, but Gustadolv managed to rally the former Hyzantese to his (kid's!) cause, by deriding the Rozellian heritage and saying they're an uncivilised bunch, destined for petty theft and crime - look that's what they've been doing since they were fred from the False Goddess.

In the end, the second Benedict dies, Gustadolv (as old as Benedict in the current game?) swipes in, terminates his nephew and puts his brat on the Norzellian throne - Cordelia "befriended" Layla and while they try to help the needy and downrotten, Layla's still looking for her son (Benedict promised her he'd let her see him if she worked for Serenor - Quahaug is long dead seen as a potential threat - something Layla takes 10 years to realise) but it fails become Aesfrost Jr is more Aesfrost than Glennbrook, even if they share their uncle Roland's trademark braid.

Speaking of the devil, Roland returns to put an end to Gustadolv's ambitions - and yet not being able to ally with Serenor who's no better than him, since he didn't care about the people anymore - but cannot kill his own nephew/niece - something Aesfrost Jr has no qualms doing, because in the brave words of Aunt Erika, Uncle Roland was a "worthless" uncle "to the end".

Norzelia is fucked up.

The (bad) end.

[samwpmarleau]

This is a bit of wish fulfillment but can I get Rohanne and Calla Blackfyre confronting a captured Daemon in Daeron's court and slapping him? Daeron gives the ladies mercy and Calla the castle.

The king himself had come to the keep with a message for her, and that was the only reason Rohanne had paused in her hurried preparations to flee with her children — her remaining children, she must keep reminding herself — back to Tyrosh. Daeron had always been fair to her, and despite everything, she knew he would have sent guardsmen to arrest her if he meant her harm. So she had listened, heard him out, considered his words.

Or perhaps “considered” is too generous a term, she reflects as she stands in the middle of the throne room, Calla drawn into her side, Daemon standing in front of them. With the help of two Kingsguard, that is — it’s a miracle Ser Brynden’s arrows had not killed him, she’s been told, and he is not yet fully healed.

Healed enough, however, to face judgment.

“You would use my wife and daughter as bargaining chips, brother?” Daemon asks the king, who is perched high upon the throne.

Queen Myriah, regal and stoic as ever, sits on her gilded chair at the base of the stairs, their four sons beside her. It had been Prince Baelor’s expression that alarmed Rohanne the most when first she had entered. While Prince Maekar had never bothered to hide his loathing of Daemon, Baelor had always acted above it all. (Save for Princess Daenerys’s wedding tourney, perhaps, in which Baelor showed plenty of self-satisfaction.)

But here, now, there is hardened darkness in him.

Daeron replies, “I am not using them for anything. Lady Rohanne and Lady Calla are here of their own accord.”

Daemon gives Calla barely a passing glance, but Rohanne’s eyes he does meet. “What has he promised that you would humble yourselves so?”

He grunts in pain when one of the Kingsguard, Ser Roland Crakehall, kicks him in the side; blood begins to stain his shirt. Rohanne does not flinch. “Only that which he could have taken from us,” she says. “His Grace has permitted us to remain at the keep, unmolested and unpunished for your actions. Provided I renounce any claims to the throne from our sons and daughters, which I have done. And he asked if there was anything we wished to say to you before you were executed.”

“ ‘His Grace’? Daeron Falseborn has no —”

“Enough, Daemon. Enough.”

She had never loved him, exactly. She had been sold off like a broodmare to a foreign land for a mere alliance, and even though Daemon himself had had nothing to do with that, she still could not find it in herself to love him truly. But they had found contentment of a sort, and she had bore him nine children. It pains her to see him standing here injured, his grand vision in tatters.

Yet, equally she cannot say part of her does not find catharsis in this. He had shamed her with his vows of love for Princess Daenerys, his constant resentment of his half-brother was wearying, and she will never forget the feelings of disgust and betrayal when Daemon told her he had promised Calla to Aegor. If things had gone differently, perhaps this very moment Calla would be Aegor’s wife, never mind what Rohanne wanted. Never mind that Calla is but one-and-ten, Aegor more than twice that.

“What is it you wish to say, then?” Daemon asks.

Oh, there is plenty. But there is not time enough in the world, nor words, for it to properly be expressed. So instead, Rohanne raises her hand and cracks it across Daemon’s face. The force of it makes his eyes water, and blood begins to well from where one of her many rings had cut him. Her hand smarts something fierce, but she refuses to show weakness.

“I want my sons back,” she snarls. “Can you give them to me?”

“You don’t think I would if I could? It was Bloodraven who killed them.”

“No,” she says. “They would still be in my arms if you had not begun this vendetta. You and Aegor and Fireball.”

“Papa?” Calla pipes up before Daemon can reply. “I don’t want you to die.”

Daemon looks down at her, softening just a bit. “I don’t want to die either, Calla. But it’s not up to me.”

“It was, though.” Her lip wibbles. “Why couldn’t we have stayed as we were? Were we not enough?”

“It wasn’t about that,” says Daemon. “It was about taking our rights back. You are supposed to be a princess, Calla, and your brothers princes, not these …” Daemon gestures at the king’s four sons. “Imposters.”

“Imposters?” Prince Maekar explodes. “You dare —”

“Maekar.” Daeron does not raise his voice, yet the youngest prince quiets as though he had. The king appraises Daemon for a few moments. “I may consider letting you keep your life, for the sake of your family. You would have to recant, you would be under guard until the end of your days, your generals would be executed, and your keep would be under my purview, but you would be allowed to live. Do you accept?”

“I will recant nothing,” Daemon spits. “I will not submit to a false king!”

Rohanne shuts her eyes. She had not expected him to do what Daeron proposed, yet all the same, it stings. Calla begins to cry, takes one last look at her father, then runs the length of the room and is escorted out by the guards.

“So this is your choice, is it?” Rohanne asks. “Despite what and who you are leaving behind, you choose pride.”

“Better pride than to roll over like a dog.”

Rohanne looks down at Daemon. She would like to believe that it had solely been Aegor and Fireball behind the corruption of her husband, that in time, he would indeed drop his rebellious ways. But those deep purple eyes of his are filled with ever-burning fury, and she knows that whatever modicum of respect he may have once had for Daeron, whatever deference, has long since vanished. She and the children would never satisfy him, and if she were to lend unwavering support, she would be consigning them all to death alongside him. She doesn’t know whether Daemon has the right of it and Daeron is in fact Aemon’s son, but nevertheless, it had been the red dragon, not the black, who had won the day.

“I am done here,” she tells King Daeron. “I do not think there is anything I can say that would make a difference.”

“You would truly turn traitor, Rohanne?”

“Traitor? If that is how you see this, then yes. I am a traitor, but I will live where you will die because I can see what the right path is.”

Betrayal joins the hatred in Daemon’s expression. Rohanne does not look away.

“Very well,” announces Daeron. Another man would sound happy, victorious, but he merely sounds resigned. “Ser Roland, bring Ser Daemon to the pulpit, and Ser Willem, please fetch the headsman. It seems we have need of his sword. Lady Rohanne, you needn’t watch this.”

Her laugh is humorless as she watches Ser Roland step forward and begin dragging Daemon towards the doors. “Yes, Your Grace, I do.”

[ask-cloverfield]

Leaks from the Witch Queen that there will be a revelation revealing the Young Wolf to a reincarnation based upon the concept of Destiny and the Eternal Hero, with previous lives mentioned being Roland, Beowulf, Achilles, and  Gilgamesh. This will be revealed in an exotic quest culminating in the player gaining a blood stained sword called Durandal 

The area of Mars shown in the trailer is in fact the remnants of a colony ship or “CRIST” that was created through cannibalized portions of Mars. Savathun is there in an attempt to find a device influence a “Dreaming God” (The damaged Pyramid ship in her throne world” to influence it to alter the timeline to allow the Hive to this is blatantly false I’ve run out of ways to make Marathon references with what we’ve seen ok

[vampcubus]

I am alright and obsessed with Roland from Library of Ruina. THIS COOKING LOVING, SASSY, FUNNY KILLING MACHINE IS JUST AAAAA. His distortions are either cool (Looks at In The Name Of Love And Hate, Mimicry and Smile) or hot (Stares disrespectfully at Faded Memories, False Throne and Gold Rush) I can’t. So yeah. Absolute brainrot. What about you Ashi? How’s life going? (*▾*)

- 🚀

Oh? I’ve never heard of Library of Ruina but it sounds super dope 👀 (hol up I googled him and I am looking respectfully 👁👁 he radiates sass lmaoooo) I don’t blame you for having brainrot in the slightest. I’ve been mostly working, writing for kinktober, and re-obsessing over the arcana! (Looks ravenously at Julian and Lucio 🥵💦)

[butterflies-dragons]

Hello! I love your blog. Your meta about women in Jon’s life and Lyanna was so good. Antis always try to ignore the Sansa and Lyanna parallels which is absurd because her story is so similar with Sansa’s... I guess they want to ignore those because they don’t want Sansa to be destined with a Targaryen prince (aka jonsa 🤭). So thanks for pointing them out. Are you planning to write a meta just about Sansa and Lyanna? It would be a good guide for our jonsa arguments. Have a nice day.

Hello Anon,

Thanks for your words.  

Antis and haters gonna oppose and hate. That’s their thing. They questioned and denied every parallel that Lyanna and Sansa actually share, and proceed to attack anyone who dare to say they share those parallels.  What’s knew about that?

Lyanna and Arya parallels are textual evident, they are easily spotted but they could be easily questioned as well, especially because most of the statements about Lyanna came from Ned, and he is not only an unreliable narrator, but his memories of Lyanna are embellished by love and trauma.  If you contrast what Ned said about Lyanna with other sources, not so biased, Ned’s statements about her don’t look so evident and solid anymore.      

Anyway, do you want me to talk more about Lyanna and Sansa parallels?  Here you go: 

Summary  

Original Outline 

Beauty

The wolf-blood

She-Wolves of Winterfell

Inner Strength

Sword & Armor

Knights protect the innocent

Singers & Songs

The Rose of Winterfell

Blue Winter Roses

Knights & Queens of Love and Beauty

Failed betrothal to a Baratheon

Pleading Ned to protect part of themselves

Targaryen Imagery

Dead before their time

Ladies of Winterfell

Bonus

LYANNA & SANSA

Original Outline & ASOIAF:

Sansa in the Original Outline:

‘Original Outline Sansa’ was very similar to Lyanna Stark.

Each of the contending families will learn it has a member of dubious loyalty in its midst. Sansa Stark, wed to Joffrey Baratheon, will bear him a son, the heir to the throne, and when the crunch comes she will choose her husband and child over her parents and siblings, a choice she will later bitterly rue.   (...) Jaime Lannister will follow Joffrey on the throne of the Seven Kingdoms, by the simple expedient of killing everyone ahead of him in the line of succession and blaming his brother Tyrion for the murders.

[Source]

As you can see, the ‘Original Outline Sansa’ shares parallels with Lyanna Stark and Elia Martel: 

Romantically involved with the King/Heir of the Iron Throne

Mothers of their sons

Dead while protecting their children

Unwillingly caused the death of family members

Tagged as members of dubious loyalty to their paternal families

Regretted their doomed romances 

But ¿How marrying the heir of the Iron Throne/King of the 7K is supposed to be an act of dubious loyalty?  GRRM has stated that in high nobility there is no marriage without the Lord Father of the bride’s blessing.  Furthermore, from the wedding the bride belongs to her husband’s house, that’s all the fuzz with the cloaking ceremony, going from the maiden’s cloak to your husband’s cloak.  You left your paternal house to belong with your husbands house.  Sansa’s loyalty was with her husband, and more important, Sansa’s love and loyalty was with her baby boy.  So, how choosing his baby over her paternal house could be seem as an act of dubious loyalty then?  And even if she wanted to come back to her paternal family, does she really get a chance without the risk of being captured, separated from her baby, accused of treason and executed, leaving her baby boy motherless?      

But according to the Original Outline, there was an enmity between Starks and Lannisters.  So, or Joffrey abducted Sansa, or Sansa eloped to marry Joffrey.  How very Shakespearean!  Romeo and Juliet all over again.  Or even better, Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark all over again.  

It is also implied by the fandom that this ‘Original Outline Sansa’ dies because the outline says that Jaime dethrones and kills Joffrey and “everyone ahead of him in the line of succession” (Sansa’s baby).  Well, Sansa was not in the line of succession, but it’s probable that Jaime had to kill her to get to her baby boy, which reminds me of Elia Martell and her babies’ tragic deaths.

Sansa in Asoiaf:

Asoiaf Sansa never married Joffrey, never bore him a son, and she’s still alive.  But she still shares a lot of similarities with her aunt Lyanna. 

Both Lyanna and Sansa got infatuated by silver/golden princes, Rhaegar Targaryen and Joffrey Baratheon, and because of those romantic relationships, they unintentionally played a part in the deaths of their fathers and older brothers, Rickard and Brandon, and Ned and Robb. Later, both of them ended trapped in towers regretting their doomed romances.

According to GRRM, Asoiaf Sansa played a part in her father Ned Stark’s death. But I would say that Sansa’s fault lays more in trusting the wrong people than betraying Ned. The act of betrayal requires willful intent, and Sansa never wanted to betray her father.  And we can say the same about Lyanna, she trusted Rhaegar over her family, ran away from her approved betrothal, lived a forbidden romance, and died after giving birth a son to her silver prince.       

Sansa and Lyanna commit the same actions, but Lyanna gets more sympathy from the readers than Sansa, who is still considered a member of dubious loyalty or plainly a traitor to the Starks.  

Also, as it was pointed out before, “Rickard Stark and Catelyn Stark both saw their firstborn sons murdered in front of them, while convinced that their daughters were far away being raped and abused by cruel princes, and then were brutally murdered themselves”.

Beauty:

Both Lyanna and Sansa are considered beautiful, but in different ways.

While Lyanna had a wild beauty:

“She [Lyanna] was,” Eddard Stark agreed, “beautiful, and willful, and dead before her time.” —AGOT - Arya II

Lyanna had only been sixteen, a child-woman of surpassing loveliness. Ned had loved her with all his heart. Robert had loved her even more. She was to have been his bride. —AGOT - Eddard I

"You never knew Lyanna as I did, Robert,” Ned told him. “You saw her beauty, but not the iron underneath”. —AGOT - Eddard VII

“The maid’s a fair one,” Osha said. —AGOT - Bran VII

The northern girl had a wild beauty, as he [Kevan] recalled. —ADWD - Epilogue

The crowning of the Stark girl, who was by all reports a wild and boyish young thing with none of the Princess Elia's delicate beauty, could only have been meant to win the allegiance of Winterfell to Prince Rhaegar's cause, Symond Staunton suggested to the king. —The World of Ice and Fire - The Fall of the Dragons: The Year of the False Spring

Sansa possesses a traditional beauty:

Sansa’s needlework was exquisite. Everyone said so. “Sansa’s work is as pretty as she is”, Septa Mordane told their lady mother once. —AGOT - Arya I

Sansa had the grace to blush. She blushed prettily. She did everything prettily. —AGOT - Arya I

Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother’s fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys. —AGOT - Arya I

“I [Ser Cleos Frey] saw Sansa at the court, the day Tyrion told me his terms. She looked most beautiful, my lady. Perhaps a, a bit wan. Drawn, as it were.” —ACOK - Catelyn VI

Men would say she had my look, but she will grow into a woman far more beautiful than I ever was. —ACOK - Catelyn VII

“You are very beautiful, my lady,” the seamstress said when she was dressed.  —ASOS - Sansa III

Ser Kevan told her she was beautiful, Jalabhar Xho said something she did not understand in the Summer Tongue, and Lord Redwyne wished her many fat children and long years of joy. —ASOS - Sansa III

“Ser Ossifer speaks truly, you are the most beautiful maid in all the Seven Kingdoms.” —TWOW - Alayne I

“Had we known such beauty awaited us at the Gates, we would have flown,” Ser Roland said. Though his words were addressed to Myranda Royce, he smiled at Alayne as he said them. —TWOW - Alayne I

The wolf-blood:

Lyanna:

"Ah, Arya. You have a wildness in you, child. 'The wolf blood,' my father used to call it. Lyanna had a touch of it, and my brother Brandon more than a touch. It brought them both to an early grave." Arya heard sadness in his voice; he did not often speak of his father, or of the brother and sister who had died before she was born. "Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it. You remind me of her sometimes. You even look like her."

"Lyanna was beautiful," Arya said, startled. Everybody said so. It was not a thing that was ever said of Arya.

“She was,” Eddard Stark agreed, “beautiful, and willful, and dead before her time.” 

—AGOT - Arya II

Sansa:

“I’ve never seen an aurochs,” Sansa said, feeding a piece of bacon to Lady under the table. The direwolf took it from her hand, as delicate as a queen. Septa Mordane sniffed in disapproval. “A noble lady does not feed dogs at her table,” she said, breaking off another piece of comb and letting the honey drip down onto her bread. “She’s not a dog, she’s a direwolf,” Sansa pointed out as Lady licked her fingers with a rough tongue. “Anyway, Father said we could keep them with us if we want.” The septa was not appeased. “You’re a good girl, Sansa, but I do vow, when it comes to that creature you’re as willful as your sister Arya.” She scowled. “And where is Arya this morning?" 

—AGOT - Sansa I

"It won’t be so bad, Sansa,” Arya said. “We’re going to sail on a galley. It will be an adventure, and then we’ll be with Bran and Robb again, and Old Nan and Hodor and the rest.” She touched her on the arm. “Hodor!” Sansa yelled. “You ought to marry Hodor, you’re just like him, stupid and hairy and ugly!” She wrenched away from her sister’s hand, stormed into her bedchamber, and barred the door behind her. 

—AGOT - Sansa III

Jeyne yawned. “Are there any lemon cakes?” Sansa did not like being interrupted, but she had to admit, lemon cakes sounded more interesting than most of what had gone on in the throne room. “Let’s see,” she said. The kitchen yielded no lemon cakes, but they did find half of a cold strawberry pie, and that was almost as good. They ate it on the tower steps, giggling and gossiping and sharing secrets, and Sansa went to bed that night feeling almost as wicked as Arya. 

—AGOT - Sansa III

After my name day feast, I’m going to raise a host and kill your brother myself. That’s what I’ll give you, Lady Sansa. Your brother’s head.“ A kind of madness took over her then, and she heard herself say, "Maybe my brother will give me your head.” 

—AGOT - Sansa VI

She-Wolves of Winterfell:

Lyanna is literally the she-wolf in the tale of “The Knight of the Laughing Tree”: 

But then they heard a roar. 'That's my father's man you're kicking,' howled the she-wolf."

"A wolf on four legs, or two?"

"Two," said Meera.

—ASOS - Bran II

Sansa went from a “wolf girl” to the she-wolf that killed a king:

He smiled at her. "Now, wolf girl, if you can put a name to me as well, then I must concede that you are truly our Hand’s daughter.” 

—AGOT - Sansa I

“I forgot, you’ve been hiding under a rock. The northern girl. Winterfell’s daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window. But she left the dwarf behind and Cersei means to have his head.” 

—ASOS - Arya XIII

“May the Father judge him justly,” murmured a septon. “The dwarf’s wife did the murder with him,” swore an archer in Lord Rowan’s livery. “Afterward, she vanished from the hall in a puff of brimstone, and a ghostly direwolf was seen prowling the Red Keep, blood dripping from his jaws.” 

—ASOS - Jaime VII

“Your Grace has forgotten the Lady Sansa,” said Pycelle. The queen bristled. “I most certainly have not forgotten that little she-wolf.” She refused to say the girl’s name. “I ought to have shown her to the black cells as the daughter of a traitor, but instead I made her part of mine own household. She shared my hearth and hall, played with my own children. I fed her, dressed her, tried to make her a little less ignorant about the world, and how did she repay me for my kindness? She helped murder my son. 

—AFFC - Cersei IV

What a kick-ass reputation: Sansa, the she-wolf that killed King Joffrey!

Inner Strength:  

Lyanna:

"You never knew Lyanna as I did, Robert,” Ned told him. “You saw her beauty, but not the iron underneath”. —AGOT - Eddard VII

Sansa:

My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. —ASOS - Sansa V

Sansa lost her direwolf Lady, and with her, the possibility to develop her abilities as a warg.  But GRRM has still made Sansa an skinchanger through poetry.  Her skin has changed to porcelain, to ivory, to steel.

Sword & Armor

While Lyanna might have carried a sword, Sansa Stark is a lady armored in courtesy and she polishes her armor with her wits.  As Tyrion Lannister said: 

My mind is my weapon. My brother has his sword, King Robert has his warhammer, and I have my mind … and a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge." Tyrion tapped the leather cover of the book. "That's why I read so much, Jon Snow."

—AGOT - Tyrion II

Lyanna:

Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it. You remind me of her sometimes. 

—AGOT - Arya II

Sansa:

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

—ACOK - Sansa I

Courtesy is a lady’s armor. You must not offend them, be careful what you say. “I do not know Ser Willas. I have never had the pleasure, my lady. Is he … is he as great a knight as his brothers?”

—ASOS - Sansa I

“Gods have mercy.” The dwarf took another swallow of wine. “Well, talk won’t make you older. Shall we get on with this, my lady? If it please you?” “It will please me to please my lord husband.” That seemed to anger him. “You hide behind courtesy as if it were a castle wall.” “Courtesy is a lady’s armor,” Sansa said. Her septa had always told her that. “I am your husband. You can take off your armor now.” “And my clothing?” “That too.” He waved his wine cup at her. “My lord father has commanded me to consummate this marriage.”

—ASOS - Sansa III

He wanted to reach her, to break through the armor of her courtesy. Was that what made him speak? Or just the need to distract himself from the fullness in his bladder?

[...]

Perhaps that would please Sansa. Gently, he spoke of Braavos, and met a wall of sullen courtesy as icy and unyielding as the Wall he had walked once in the north. It made him weary. Then and now.

—ASOS - Tyrion VIII

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.

—TWOW - Alayne I

Knights protect the innocent:

Lyanna, as herself and as “The Knight of the Laughing Tree”, defended Howland Reed, a bannerman of House Stark:

“None offered a name, but he marked their faces well so he could revenge himself upon them later. They shoved him down every time he tried to rise, and kicked him when he curled up on the ground. But then they heard a roar. ‘That’s my father’s man you’re kicking,’ howled the she-wolf.” “A wolf on four legs, or two?” “Two,” said Meera. “The she-wolf laid into the squires with a tourney sword, scattering them all. The crannogman was bruised and bloodied, so she took him back to her lair to clean his cuts and bind them up with linen. There he met her pack brothers: the wild wolf who led them, the quiet wolf beside him, and the pup who was youngest of the four.

(…)

“Whoever he was, the old gods gave strength to his arm. The porcupine knight fell first, then the pitchfork knight, and lastly the knight of the two towers. None were well loved, so the common folk cheered lustily for the Knight of the Laughing Tree, as the new champion soon was called.” 

—ASOS - Bran II

Sansa, as a lady armored with her courtesy and wits, defended and saved Dontos Hollard’s life, a defenestrated knight turned fool:  

The king stood. “A cask from the cellars! I’ll see him drowned in it.” Sansa heard herself gasp. “No, you can’t.” Joffrey turned his head. “What did you say?” Sansa could not believe she had spoken. Was she mad? To tell him no in front of half the court? She hadn’t meant to say anything, only … Ser Dontos was drunk and silly and useless, but he meant no harm. “Did you say I can’t? Did you?” “Please,” Sansa said, “I only meant … it would be ill luck, Your Grace … to, to kill a man on your name day.” “You’re lying,” Joffrey said. “I ought to drown you with him, if you care for him so much.” “I don’t care for him, Your Grace.” The words tumbled out desperately. “Drown him or have his head off, only … kill him on the morrow, if you like, but please … not today, not on your name day. I couldn’t bear for you to have ill luck … terrible luck, even for kings, the singers all say so …” Joffrey scowled. He knew she was lying, she could see it. He would make her bleed for this. “The girl speaks truly,” the Hound rasped. “What a man sows on his name day, he reaps throughout the year.” His voice was flat, as if he did not care a whit whether the king believed him or no. Could it be true? Sansa had not known. It was just something she’d said, desperate to avoid punishment. Unhappy, Joffrey shifted in his seat and flicked his fingers at Ser Dontos. “Take him away. I’ll have him killed on the morrow, the fool.” “He is,” Sansa said. “A fool. You’re so clever, to see it. He’s better fitted to be a fool than a knight, isn’t he? You ought to dress him in motley and make him clown for you. He doesn’t deserve the mercy of a quick death.” The king studied her a moment. “Perhaps you’re not so stupid as Mother says.” He raised his voice. “Did you hear my lady, Dontos? From this day on, you’re my new fool. You can sleep with Moon Boy and dress in motley." 

—ACOK - Sansa I

Singers & Songs:

Lyanna and Sansa are linked with singers and romantic songs.  

Lyanna loved a singer and became a lady in a song, her own tragic romantic story:  

The dragon prince sang a song so sad it made the wolf maid sniffle. 

—ASOS - Bran II

The wolf maid was Lyanna Stark hearing her dragon prince Rhaegar Targaryen playing a sad song with the harp.

And curiously enough, a blue eyed redhead man called Jon also wept while hearing Rhaegar Targaryen playing a sad song with the harp:

At the welcoming feast, the prince had taken up his silver-stringed harp and played for them. A song of love and doom, Jon Connington recalled, and every woman in the hall was weeping when he put down the harp. Not the men, of course. 

—A Dance with Dragons - The Griffin Reborn

Jon Connington was, of course, in love with Rhaegar Targaryen... 

Sansa:

Once, when she was just a little girl, a wandering singer had stayed with them at Winterfell for half a year. An old man he was, with white hair and windburnt cheeks, but he sang of knights and quests and ladies fair, and Sansa had cried bitter tears when he left them, and begged her father not to let him go. “The man has played us every song he knows thrice over,” Lord Eddard told her gently. “I cannot keep him here against his will. You need not weep, though. I promise you, other singers will come.”  

They hadn’t, though, not for a year or more. Sansa had prayed to the Seven in their sept and old gods of the heart tree, asking them to bring the old man back, or better still to send another singer, young and handsome. But the gods never answered, and the halls of Winterfell stayed silent.  

But that was when she was a little girl, and foolish. She was a maiden now, three-and-ten and flowered. All her nights were full of song, and by day she prayed for silence. 

—A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

Bran and his brothers and sisters sat with the king's children, Joffrey and Tommen and Princess Myrcella, who'd spent the whole meal gazing at Robb with adoring eyes. Arya made faces across the table when no one was looking; Sansa listened raptly while the king's high harper sang songs of chivalry, and Rickon kept asking why Jon wasn't with them. "Because he's a bastard," Bran finally had to whisper to him.

—ACOK - Bran III

Later, while Sansa was off listening to a troupe of singers perform the complex round of interwoven ballads called the “Dance of the Dragons,” [sung in High Valyrian] Ned inspected the bruise himself. “I hope Forel is not being too hard on you,” he said. 

—AGOT - Eddard VII

She pulled a chair close to the hearth, took down one of her favorite books, and lost herself in the stories of Florian and Jonquil, of Lady Shella and the Rainbow Knight, of valiant Prince Aemon and his doomed love for his brother’s queen. 

—AGOT - Sansa IV

After the meal had been cleared away, many of the guests asked leave to go to the sept. Cersei graciously granted their request. Lady Tanda and her daughters were among those who fled. For those who remained, a singer was brought forth to fill the hall with the sweet music of the high harp. He sang of Jonquil and Florian, of Prince Aemon the Dragonknight and his love for his brother’s queen, of Nymeria’s ten thousand ships. They were beautiful songs, but terribly sad. Several of the women began to weep, and Sansa felt her own eyes growing moist. 

—ACOK - Sansa VI

So the singer played for her, so soft and sad that Arya only heard snatches of the words, though the tune was half-familiar. Sansa would know it, I bet. Her sister had known all the songs, and she could even play a little, and sing so sweetly. All I could ever do was shout the words.

—ASOS - Arya IV

Lady Ashara was my aunt. I never knew her, though. She threw herself into the sea from atop the Palestone Sword before I was born.” “Why would she do that?” said Arya, startled. (...) “Why did she jump in the sea, though?” "Her heart was broken." Sansa would have sighed and shed a tear for true love, but Arya just thought it was stupid. 

—ASOS - Arya VIII

"Do you require guarding?” Marillion said lightly. “I am composing a new song, you should know. A song so sweet and sad it will melt even your frozen heart. 'The Roadside Rose,’ I mean to call it. About a baseborn girl so beautiful she bewitched every man who laid eyes upon her.” 

—ASOS - Sansa VII

Lyanna and Sansa are also linked with the tale of Bael the Bard and the Rose of Winterfell.

The Rose of Winterfell:

This is the tale:

According to free folk legend, Lord Brandon Stark, the liege of the north, once called Bael a coward. To take revenge for this affront and prove his courage, Bael climbed the Wall, took the kingsroad, and entered Winterfell under the guise of a singer named Sygerrik of Skagos. (“Sygerrik” means “deceiver” in the Old Tongue.) There, he sang until midnight for the lord.

Impressed by his skills as a singer, Lord Stark asked Bael what he wanted as a reward, but he requested only the most beautiful flower blooming in Winterfell’s gardens. As the blue winter roses were just blooming, Brandon Stark presented him with one. The following morning, the maiden daughter of Lord Stark had disappeared, his only child, and in her bed was the blue winter rose.

Lord Brandon sent the members of the Night’s Watch looking for them beyond the Wall, but they never found Bael or the girl. The Stark line was on the verge of extinction, when one day the girl was back in her room, holding in her arms an infant: they had actually never left Winterfell, staying hidden in the crypts. Bael’s bastard with Brandon’s daughter became the new Lord Stark.

Thirty years later, Bael was King-Beyond-the-Wall and led the wildlings’ army south, and he had to fight his own son at the Frozen Ford. There, incapable of killing his own blood, he let himself be killed by Lord Stark. His son brought back Bael’s head to Winterfell, and his mother who had loved the bard, seeing the trophy, killed herself by leaping from the top of a tower. The son was eventually slain by the Boltons.

[Source]

Jon’s first and only lover, Ygritte, told him this story: 

“You said you were the Bastard o’ Winterfell.” “I am.” “Who was your mother?” “Some woman. Most of them are.” Someone had said that to him once. He did not remember who. She smiled again, a flash of white teeth. “And she never sung you the song o’ the winter rose?” “I never knew my mother. Or any such song.” “Bael the Bard made it,” said Ygritte. “He was King-beyond-the-Wall a long time back. (...) “Well, long before he was king over the free folk, Bael was a great raider.” (...) “The Stark in Winterfell wanted Bael’s head, but never could take him, and the taste o’ failure galled him. One day in his bitterness he called Bael a craven who preyed only on the weak. When word o’ that got back, Bael vowed to teach the lord a lesson. So he scaled the Wall, skipped down the kingsroad, and walked into Winterfell one winter’s night with harp in hand, naming himself Sygerrik of Skagos. Sygerrik means ‘deceiver’ in the Old Tongue, that the First Men spoke, and the giants still speak.” “North or south, singers always find a ready welcome, so Bael ate at Lord Stark’s own table, and played for the lord in his high seat until half the night was gone. The old songs he played, and new ones he’d made himself, and he played and sang so well that when he was done, the lord offered to let him name his own reward. ‘All I ask is a flower,’ Bael answered, ‘the fairest flower that blooms in the gardens o’ Winterfell.’” “Now as it happened the winter roses had only then come into bloom, and no flower is so rare nor precious. So the Stark sent to his glass gardens and commanded that the most beautiful o’ the winter roses be plucked for the singer’s payment. And so it was done. But when morning come, the singer had vanished . . . and so had Lord Brandon’s maiden daughter. Her bed they found empty, but for the pale blue rose that Bael had left on the pillow where her head had lain.” Jon had never heard this tale before. (...) “Lord Brandon had no other children. At his behest, the black crows flew forth from their castles in the hundreds, but nowhere could they find any sign o’ Bael or this maid. For most a year they searched, till the lord lost heart and took to his bed, and it seemed as though the line o’ Starks was at its end. But one night as he lay waiting to die, Lord Brandon heard a child’s cry. He followed the sound and found his daughter back in her bedchamber, asleep with a babe at her breast.” “Bael had brought her back?” “No. They had been in Winterfell all the time, hiding with the dead beneath the castle. The maid loved Bael so dearly she bore him a son, the song says . . . though if truth be told, all the maids love Bael in them songs he wrote. Be that as it may, what’s certain is that Bael left the child in payment for the rose he’d plucked unasked, and that the boy grew to be the next Lord Stark. So there it is—you have Bael’s blood in you, same as me.”

—ACOK - Jon VI

This tale resembles Jon’s own story: Bael the Bard and Rhaegar Targaryen, both harp players, “abducted” a Stark maid, Brandon’s daughter and Lyanna, ‘the fairest flower that blooms in the gardens o’ Winterfell’.  Rhaegar also crowned Lyanna as the Queen of Love and Beauty with blue winter roses, and they procreated a “bastard” son, Jon Snow.  Lyanna died after giving birth to Jon, and the memories of that tragic even haunted Ned, who remembers the Lyanna bleeding and the blue winter roses:

"Promise me, Ned," Lyanna's statue whispered. She wore a garland of pale blue roses, and her eyes wept blood. 

—AGOT - Eddard XIII

Promise me, Ned, his sister had whispered from her bed of blood. She had loved the scent of winter roses. 

—AGOT - Eddard XV

Immediately after this chapter, comes ACOK - Sansa IV, where Sansa got her first period.  

So after a chapter about ‘the fairest flower that blooms in the gardens o’ Winterfell’ it follows the chapter where Sansa Stark becomes a maid, Sansa literally flowered. 

Next chapter is Jon again. There is a succession of Jon-Sansa-Jon chapters, that linked them thematically. 

Also take note that Sansa was “abducted” by Petyr Baelish, a known deceiver, whose surname has a resemblance with the name Bael.

Blue Winter Roses:

Lyanna and Sansa are linked with flowers, but especially with roses:

Lyanna and the blue winter roses:

Ned could recall none of it. ”I bring her flowers when I can,“ he said. ”Lyanna was … fond of flowers.” 

—A Game Of Thrones - Eddard I

"Promise me, Ned," Lyanna's statue whispered. She wore a garland of pale blue roses, and her eyes wept blood.

—AGOT - Eddard XIII

Promise me, Ned, his sister had whispered from her bed of blood. She had loved the scent of winter roses.

—AGOT - Eddard XV

Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty’s laurel in Lyanna’s lap. He could see it still: a crown of winter roses, blue as frost. 

—AGOT - Eddard XV

Sansa Stark:

It was enough that she could walk in the yard, pick flowers in Myrcella’s garden, and visit the sept to pray for her father. Sometimes she prayed in the godswood as well, since the Starks kept the old gods. 

—AGOT - Sansa V

Her eyes were only for Ser Loras. When the white horse stopped in front of her, she thought her heart would burst. To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. “Sweet lady,” he said, “no victory is half so beautiful as you.” Sansa took the flower timidly, struck dumb by his gallantry. His hair was a mass of lazy brown curls, his eyes like liquid gold. She inhaled the sweet fragrance of the rose and sat clutching it long after Ser Loras had ridden off. 

—AGOT - Sansa II

"Do you require guarding?” Marillion said lightly. “I am composing a new song, you should know. A song so sweet and sad it will melt even your frozen heart. 'The Roadside Rose,’ I mean to call it. About a baseborn girl so beautiful she bewitched every man who laid eyes upon her.” 

—ASOS - Sansa VII

So we have Marillion, a singer, composing a song for Alayne Stone, Sansa Stark in disguise, that he meant to call “The Roadside Rose”

And Loras Tyrell, The Knight of Flowers, gave Sansa a single red rose.  I will expand on this next, because Loras giving Sansa a red rose is an allegory in reverse of Rhaegar giving Lyanna the crown of blue winter roses.

Knights & Queens of Love and Beauty:

Lyanna was a Mystery Knight AND was crowned Queen of Love and Beauty at the Tourney at Harrenhal.

Lyanna as the Knight of the Laughing Tree

Lyanna, as herself and as a mystery knight, the Knight of the Laughing Tree, defended the crannogman, Howland Reed, a bannerman of House Stark:

But late on the afternoon of that second day, as the shadows grew long, a mystery knight appeared in the lists. Bran nodded sagely. […] “It was the little crannogman, I bet.” “No one knew,” said Meera, “but the mystery knight was short of stature, and clad in ill-fitting armor made up of bits and pieces. The device upon his shield was a heart tree of the old gods, a white weirwood with a laughing red face.” […] “Whoever he was, the old gods gave strength to his arm. The porcupine knight fell first, then the pitchfork knight, and lastly the knight of the two towers. None were well loved, so the common folk cheered lustily for the Knight of the Laughing Tree, as the new champion soon was called.” —ASOS - Bran II

Lyanna as the Queen of Love and Beauty

Rhaegar Targaryen wearing an armor adorned with rubies (red) gave Lyanna a crown of winter roses (blue):

The Targaryen prince armored all in black. On his breastplate was the three-headed dragon of his House, wrought all in rubies that flashed like fire in the sunlight. 

—AGOT - Eddard I

Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty’s laurel in Lyanna’s lap. He could see it still: a crown of winter roses, blue as frost. 

—AGOT - Eddard XV

Sansa as a “Knight”

During the Tourney in honor of King Joffrey’s Name Day, Sansa, as a lady armored with her courtesy and wits, defended and saved the life of Ser Dontos Hollard, a defenestrated knight turned fool, as I explained above. 

Sansa as the Queen of Love and Beauty

Art credit: Loras Tyrell Gives Sansa Stark a Rose and the Hand’s Tournament by Jonathan Burton.

Sansa was the unofficial Queen of Love and Beauty at the Tourney of the Hand.  GRRM wrote this passage as a resemble of the Tourney at Harrenhal, hiding hints and reversing colors.  

Sansa attended the Tourney of the Hand at Kings Landing and met Petyr Baelish who told her that her mother, Catelyn Tully, was his Queen of Love and Beauty: 

"Your mother was my queen of beauty once,” the man said quietly. His breath smelled of mint. “You have her hair.” His fingers brushed against her cheek as he stroked one auburn lock. Quite abruptly he turned and walked away. —AGOT - Sansa II

Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, wearing an armor adorned with sapphires (blue) gave Sansa a (red) rose:

When the Knight of Flowers made his entrance, a murmur ran through the crowd, and he heard Sansa’s fervent whisper, “Oh, he’s so beautiful.” Ser Loras Tyrell was slender as a reed, dressed in a suit of fabulous silver armor polished to a blinding sheen and filigreed with twining black vines and tiny blue forget-me-nots. The commons realized in the same instant as Ned that the blue of the flowers came from sapphires; a gasp went up from a thousand throats. Across the boy’s shoulders his cloak hung heavy. It was woven of forget-me-nots, real ones, hundreds of fresh blooms sewn to a heavy woolen cape. —AGOT - Eddard VII

Her eyes were only for Ser Loras. When the white horse stopped in front of her, she thought her heart would burst. To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. “Sweet lady,” he said, “no victory is half so beautiful as you.” Sansa took the flower timidly, struck dumb by his gallantry. His hair was a mass of lazy brown curls, his eyes like liquid gold. She inhaled the sweet fragrance of the rose and sat clutching it long after Ser Loras had ridden off. —AGOT - Sansa II

During the second day of the tourney, Sansa wore the red rose in her hair:

The boy from Highgarden did something with his legs, and his horse pranced sideways, nimble as a dancer. Sansa clutched at his arm. “Father, don’t let Ser Gregor hurt him,” she said. Ned saw she was wearing the rose that Ser Loras had given her yesterday. Jory had told him about that as well. —AGOT - Eddard VII

The Tourney at the Gates of the Moon

And at this point in the Books, Sansa, as Alayne Stone, is organizing a tourney to elect the members of Robert Arryn’s personal guard, named the Brotherhood of the Winged Knights.  

Alayne Stone’s betrothed, Harrold Hardyng, known as Harry the Heir, is competing in the tourney. 

Since her betrothed is competing in the jousting and since she is daughter of Petyr Baelish, Lord Protector of the Vale, Alayne Stone has great chances to be crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty of the tourney.    

The Tourney at Ashford Meadows

Sansa has also strong links with the Tourney at Ashford Meadows, but this is a matter for another time.

Failed betrothal to a Baratheon:

Both Lyanna and Sansa were betrothed with a Baratheon, Lyanna with Robert and Sansa with Joffrey:

If Lyanna had lived, we should have been brothers, bound by blood as well as affection. Well, it is not too late. I have a son. You have a daughter. My Joff and your Sansa shall join our houses, as Lyanna and I might once have done. —AGOT - Eddard I

There is also this parallel between Jenny of Oldstones, Lyanna & Sansa [I wrote about it here]:

Note the parallels between Duncan Targaryen, his betrothed Baratheon and Jenny of Oldstones & Rhaegar Targaryen, Lyanna Stark and her betrothed Robert Baratheon: A Targaryen prince breaking an engagement with a member of House Baratheon that then originates a rebellion.

And this: Sansa was betrothed with Joffrey “Baratheon” and the engagement was broken in the middle of a war with Robb Stark leading an army against King Joffrey, and Jon almost breaking his vows to join Robb’s army to avenge Ned’s death and rescue their sisters. All of which makes me think about these parallels: Sansa being a hostage in King’s Landing & Lyanna’s “abduction”, Ned’s death & Rickard’s death, Robb’s death & Brandon’s death. And that leaves Jon to possibly play the role of Ned Stark in the future.  

Basically if Jon and Sansa happens, they will parallel two stories: Rhaegar and Lyanna, a Targaryen/Stark couple; and Ned and Cat, a Stark/Tully couple.

And right now in the Books, Sansa Stark, under the disguise of Alayne Stone, is betrothed with a Robert-like young man: Harrold Hardyng, also known as Harry the Heir:

Both orphaned boys

Both wards at the Vale

Both handsome and physically strong 

Both linked to Jon Arryn and the Vale

Both fathered bastards in the Vale: Mya Stone // Alys Stone

Both involved in a conflict with a cousin: Robert killed his cousin Rhaegar and became King // If Robert Arryn dies, his cousin Harry will be new Lord Arryn.

Both betrothed to a Stark girl: Lyanna Stark // (Alayne Stone) Sansa Stark 

Pleading Ned to protect part of themselves:

"Stop them," Sansa pleaded, "don't let them do it, please, please, it wasn't Lady, it was Nymeria, Arya did it, you can't, it wasn't Lady, don't let them hurt Lady, I'll make her be good, I promise, I promise …" She started to cry. 

—AGOT - Eddard III

He could still hear Sansa pleading, as Lyanna had pleaded once. 

—AGOT - Eddard IV

"Promise me, Ned," Lyanna's statue whispered. She wore a garland of pale blue roses, and her eyes wept blood. 

—AGOT - Eddard XIII

Promise me, Ned, his sister had whispered from her bed of blood. She had loved the scent of winter roses. 

—AGOT - Eddard XV

Lyanna was pleading to her brother Ned to protect her son, while Sansa was pleading to her father Ned to protect her direwolf, Lady, part of Sansa’s soul. Later, Ned regretted failing Sansa…  

Sansa’s pleading and repeating the word “promise”, triggered Ned’s trauma over Lyanna’s death.  That also happened when Robert asked Ned to protect his children.

Targaryen Imagery:

Sansa’s chapters hide hints about Lyanna’s son, Jon Snow, true parentage.

Indeed, Sansa Stark has a very interesting imagery of white/off-white fabrics stained with blood and fire.  I wrote more about it here.

Sansa’s Ivory silk dress stained with blood orange juice and ashes

“Liar,” Arya said. Her hand clenched the blood orange so hard that red juice oozed between her fingers.

“Go ahead, call me all the names you want,” Sansa said airily. “You won’t dare when I’m married to Joffrey. You’ll have to bow to me and call me Your Grace.” She shrieked as Arya flung the orange across the table. It caught her in the middle of the forehead with a wet squish and plopped down into her lap.

“You have juice on your face, Your Grace,” Arya said.

It was running down her nose and stinging her eyes. Sansa wiped it away with a napkin. When she saw what the fruit in her lap had done to her beautiful ivory silk dress, she shrieked again. “You’re horrible,” she screamed at her sister. “They should have killed you instead of Lady!”

(…)

“Arya started it,” Sansa said quickly, anxious to have the first word. “She called me a liar and threw an orange at me and spoiled my dress, the ivory silk, the one Queen Cersei gave me when I was betrothed to Prince Joffrey. She hates that I’m going to marry the prince. She tries to spoil everything, Father, she can’t stand for anything to be beautiful or nice or splendid.”

(…)

“Sansa stalked away with her head up. She was to be a queen, and queens did not cry. At least not where people could see. When she reached her bedchamber, she barred the door and took off her dress. The blood orange had left a blotchy red stain on the silk. “I hate her!” she screamed. She balled up the dress and flung it into the cold hearth, on top of the ashes of last night’s fire. When she saw that the stain had bled through onto her underskirt, she began to sob despite herself. She ripped off the rest of her clothes wildly, threw herself into bed, and cried herself back to sleep.”

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

When the king’s herald moved forward, Sansa realized the moment was almost at hand. She smoothed down the cloth of her skirt nervously. She was dressed in mourning, as a sign of respect for the dead king, but she had taken special care to make herself beautiful. Her gown was the ivory silk that the queen had given her, the one Arya had ruined, but she’d had them dye it black and you couldn’t see the stain at all. She had fretted over her jewelry for hours and finally decided upon the elegant simplicity of a plain silver chain.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa V

Take note that the ivory silk dress was a “betrothal gift” from Cersei, that Sansa later had to “dye it black” so the “blood and fire stain” couldn’t be seen at all.

Oh George! Your wording here is just genius!  

Sansa’s bedclothes stained with her moonblood and fire

When she woke, the pale light of morning was slanting through her window, yet she felt as sick and achy as if she had not slept at all. There was something sticky on her thighs. When she threw back the blanket and saw the blood, all she could think was that her dream had somehow come true. She remembered the knives inside her, twisting and ripping. She squirmed away in horror, kicking at the sheets and falling to the floor, breathing raggedly, naked, bloodied, and afraid.

But as she crouched there, on her hands and knees, understanding came. “No, please,” Sansa whimpered, “please, no.” She didn’t want this happening to her, not now, not here, not now, not now, not now, not now.

Madness took hold of her. Pulling herself up by the bedpost, she went to the basin and washed between her legs, scrubbing away all the stickiness. By the time she was done, the water was pink with blood. When her maidservants saw it they would know. Then she remembered the bedclothes. She rushed back to the bed and stared in horror at the dark red stain and the tale it told. All she could think was that she had to get rid of it, or else they’d see. She couldn’t let them see, or they’d marry her to Joffrey and make her lay with him.

Snatching up her knife, Sansa hacked at the sheet, cutting out the stain. If they ask me about the hole, what will I say? Tears ran down her face. She pulled the torn sheet from the bed, and the stained blanket as well. I’ll have to burn them. She balled up the evidence, stuffed it in the fireplace, drenched it in oil from her bedside lamp, and lit it afire. Then she realized that the blood had soaked through the sheet into the featherbed, so she bundled that up as well, but it was big and cumbersome, hard to move. Sansa could get only half of it into the fire. She was on her knees, struggling to shove the mattress into the flames as thick grey smoke eddied around her and filled the room, when the door burst open and she heard her maid gasp.

In the end it took three of them to pull her away. And it was all for nothing. The bedclothes were burnt, but by the time they carried her off her thighs were bloody again. It was as if her own body had betrayed her to Joffrey, unfurling a banner of Lannister crimson for all the world to see.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV

Even if the color of the bedclothes was not stated as white/off-white, it’s very probable that they were of white or an off-white color, like ivory. So, again, we find this very interesting imagery in Sansa’s chapters: white/off-white fabrics stained with blood and fire.  

And this passage of a bed stained with blood that must be hidden makes me think about Ned’s dream of Lyanna’s death:

He dreamt an old dream, of three knights in white cloaks, and a tower long fallen, and Lyanna in her bed of blood.

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard X

So I think there is another pattern here: betrothal, marriage and giving birth.

As I said before, the ivory silk dress was a “betrothal gift” from Cersei; and, as Sansa stated, the bedclothes stained with her moonblood was a proof of her having reached her womanhood and thus able to do her duty and marry Joffrey and bear his children.  

Moreover, after Sansa’s first moonblood, she had this conversation with Cersei:

“I don’t blame you. Between Tyrion and Lord Stannis, everything I eat tastes of ash. And now you’re setting fires as well. What did you hope to accomplish?”

Sansa lowered her head. “The blood frightened me.”

“The blood is the seal of your womanhood. Lady Catelyn might have prepared you. You’ve had your first flowering, no more.”

Sansa had never felt less flowery. “My lady mother told me, but I … I thought it would be different.”

“Different how?”

��I don’t know. Less … less messy, and more magical.”

Queen Cersei laughed. “Wait until you birth a child, Sansa. A woman’s life is nine parts mess to one part magic, you’ll learn that soon enough … and the parts that look like magic often turn out to be messiest of all.” She took a sip of milk. “So now you are a woman. Do you have the least idea of what that means?”

“It means that I am now fit to be wedded and bedded,” said Sansa, “and to bear children for the king.”

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV

An ivory silk dress, a “betrothal gift” from Cersei, that Sansa later had to “dye it black”, so the “blood and fire stain” couldn’t be seen at all, sounds pretty much like Lyanna Stark’s betrothal to Robert Baratheon being “stained” by Rhaegar Targaryen. And then, of course, of Jon Snow hidden in the Wall as a Black Brother/Black Knight of the Night’s Watch.  

Again, Sansa’s bedclothes stained with her flowering blood and then with fire to hide the stain, sounds pretty much like Lyanna Stark’s bed of blood after she gave birth Jon Snow, the baby that had to be hidden so his Targaryen identity couldn’t be seem at all.

A white wool cloak stained by blood and fire

When she crawled out of bed, long moments later, she was alone. She found his cloak on the floor, twisted up tight, the white wool stained by blood and fire. The sky outside was darker by then, with only a few pale green ghosts dancing against the stars. A chill wind was blowing, banging the shutters. Sansa was cold. She shook out the torn cloak and huddled beneath it on the floor, shivering.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa VII

Out of the three passages with this imagery of white/off-white fabrics stained with blood and fire, this one, the one you asked for, has the more evident references of Jon Snow’s true parentage as the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.    

Here we have Sansa huddled beneath a white kingsguard cloak stained by blood of the death during the Battle of the Blackwater and wildfire.    

I think most of the readers get distracted from the Jon Snow’s true parentage hints here, because they romanticize this scene and believe it foreshadows some romantic future events for her involving the Hound, based in the fact that Sansa had covered herself with “the Hounds cloak” twice. But the relationship between Sansa and the white cloaks is -by far- larger than that; it has more to do with the ideals of knighthood and chivalry, than with the men wearing them.  

As you can see, GRRM has plagued Sansa’s chapters with hints of Lyanna’s son, Jon Snow, true parentage.  

Dead before their time:

Lyanna:

“She [Lyanna] was,” Eddard Stark agreed, “beautiful, and willful, and dead before her time.” 

—AGOT - Arya II

Sansa:

And so many others were missing. Where had the rest of them gone? Sansa wondered. Vainly, she searched for friendly faces. Not one of them would meet her eyes. It was as if she had become a ghost, dead before her time. 

—AGOT - Sansa V

Lyanna and Lady (part of Sansa’s soul) both died in the south, before their time.  

Lyanna’s ghost has haunted Cersei over the years, Cersei wanted to marry Rhaegar but ended married with Robert.  Both Rhaegar and Robert loved Lyanna.

Lady is mentioned in the Books as a “shade”, a synonym for ghost.  And after Ned’s death, Sansa became a ghost at the Red Keep’s court.

Sansa and Lady also haunt Cersei, as she remembered them both during her walk of atonement:

The queen began to see familiar faces. (...) She saw Ned Stark, and beside him little Sansa with her auburn hair and a shaggy grey dog that might have been her wolf. 

—ADWD - Cersei II

At the end, only the remains of Lyanna and Lady returned home, to the North, to Winterfell.

Ladies of Winterfell:

Lyanna’s and Lady’s bones are buried at Winterfell, what makes them literally Ladies of Winterfell:  

“She was more beautiful than that,” the king said after a silence. His eyes lingered on Lyanna’s face, as if he could will her back to life. Finally he rose, made awkward by his weight. “Ah, damn it, Ned, did you have to bury her in a place like this?” His voice was hoarse with remembered grief. “She deserved more than darkness …” “She was a Stark of Winterfell,” Ned said quietly. “This is her place.” 

—AGOT - Eddard I

Shortly, Jory brought him Ice. When it was over, he said, “Choose four men and have them take the body north. Bury her at Winterfell.” “All that way?” Jory said, astonished. “All that way,” Ned affirmed. “The Lannister woman shall never have this skin.” 

—AGOT - Eddard III

Bran felt all cold inside. “She lost her wolf,” he said, weakly, remembering the day when four of his father’s guardsmen had returned from the south with Lady’s bones. Summer and Grey Wind and Shaggydog had begun to howl before they crossed the drawbridge, in voices drawn and desolate. Beneath the shadow of the First Keep was an ancient lichyard, its headstones spotted with pale lichen, where the old Kings of Winter had laid their faithful servants. It was there they buried Lady, while her brothers stalked between the graves like restless shadows. She had gone south, and only her bones had returned. 

—AGOT - Bran VI

Lady’s death and his return to the North to rest in Winterfell is linked with Lyanna’s death and her own path back home.  I wrote about this before:

Now, back to Lady’s death. We know that this event is a turning point in Sansa’s arc, but other than that, the paragraphs leading to the direwolf’s execution are laden with symbolism and foreshadowing, not only for Sansa, but for Ned as well.

During the “trial”, Ned decides that he will take Lady’s life himself, in order to avoid having a butcher like Ilyn Payne do the execution. Then, before he struck, he pronounced her name in the same fashion Robb and Jon called the name of their direwolves before they both died. This for me foreshadows Ned’s own death. Also, before Lady’s death, Ned pleads King Robert to change his decision on putting down the direwolf, appealing to the memory of Lyanna, the woman Robert loved. Similarly, before Ned’s execution at the steps of the Sept of Baelor, Sansa pleads King Joffrey to spare her father’s life, appealing to the love he has for her. As we know, both pleas fell on deaf ears and both Lady and Ned lost their lives; bringing the story full circle, as Ilyn Payne himself cut off Ned’s head.

Another interesting thing is that before Lady’s death we have direct and indirect references to Lyanna Stark. We have the direct reference when Ned appealed to the love Robert Baratheon bore Lyanna, in order to save Lady’s life, and the indirect one when he ordered Jory to choose four men to return Lady’s body to the north, to bury her in Winterfell. This order Ned gave to his men alludes to his own decision to take Lyanna’s body to Winterfell to be buried in the crypts, after her demise, brought on by her doomed love affair with Rhaegar Targaryen.

And to finish this post, here some gifsets that illustrate some of the discussed parallels:

Sansa Stark and Lyanna Stark + parallels

Pleading

She-wolves of Winterfell

Beautiful, Captivating Child-Women

Hidden Metal ft. hair parallels

Broken ‘Baratheon’ Engagements ft. more hair parallels

Fair Maidens

BONUS

Lyanna and Sansa in the first Show pilot:

In The Original, Terrible ‘Game Of Thrones’ Pilot That Never Aired, there was a scene where Cersei burned the feather that Robert left at Lyanna’s statue in the Winterfell Crypts:

The Cersei scene that might ruffle some feathers

Let’s begin with a defining scene between King Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark in the Winterfell crypts.

The scene that aired on HBO is slightly different from the scene in the Cushing script, but the gist is the same. Robert asks Ned to be his new Hand of the King, a position left open after Jon Arryn’s death. That’s when Robert places something small but highly symbolic on a statue of his onetime betrothed, Lyanna Stark: a feather.

And that pretty much sums up the sequence you saw in Season 1

But in the script found in the Cushing library, Queen Cersei plays a pivotal role in this exchange’s aftermath ― so much so that her involvement would have changed a Season 5 episode, the recent Season 8 teaser and possibly more.

The following scene is written into the pilot script found at Cushing and involves Cersei visiting the crypts right before the feast at Winterfell:

Cersei exits the crypts, crosses the courtyard and walks into the antechamber between the kitchen and the Winterfell great hall. The celebration for the king’s arrival is underway, and servants are rushing past her with food. The queen’s handmaidens make adjustments to her outfit and remove her heavy fur.

Then Cersei reveals something she has inside her sleeve:

“A word with the Stark girl”.  I have no doubt this meant Sansa.  

We didn’t get to watch this scene, Cersei never came down to the Winterfell Crypts, and she never took the feather Robert left there for Lyanna.  But a few seasons later, we got to watch a scene of Sansa at the Winterfell Crypts, next to her aunt Lyanna’s statue, where she found the same feather that King Robert left there years ago...  

...And Petyr Baelish told her the story of Lyanna and Rhaegar at the Tourney of Harrenhal....  I wrote more about it here.

I hope this is enough. 

Thanks for your message and good night.

[jerichosuffers]

False Throne Roland

I suffered to render those emeralds

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 4.30

311 – The Diocletianic Persecution of Christians in the Roman Empire ends. 1315 – Enguerrand de Marigny is hanged at the instigation of Charles, Count of Valois. 1492 – Spain gives Christopher Columbus his commission of exploration. 1513 – Edmund de la Pole, Yorkist pretender to the English throne, is executed on the orders of Henry VIII. 1557 – Mapuche leader Lautaro is killed by Spanish forces at the Battle of Mataquito in Chile. 1598 – Juan de Oñate begins the conquest of Santa Fe de Nuevo México. 1598 – Henry IV of France issues the Edict of Nantes, allowing freedom of religion to the Huguenots. 1636 – Eighty Years' War: Dutch Republic forces recapture a strategically important fort from Spain after a nine-month siege. 1789 – On the balcony of Federal Hall on Wall Street in New York City, George Washington takes the oath of office to become the first elected President of the United States. 1803 – Louisiana Purchase: The United States purchases the Louisiana Territory from France for $15 million, more than doubling the size of the young nation. 1812 – The Territory of Orleans becomes the 18th U.S. state under the name Louisiana. 1838 – Nicaragua declares independence from the Central American Federation. 1863 – A 65-man French Foreign Legion infantry patrol fights a force of nearly 2,000 Mexican soldiers to nearly the last man in Hacienda Camarón, Mexico. 1871 – The Camp Grant massacre takes place in Arizona Territory. 1885 – Governor of New York David B. Hill signs legislation creating the Niagara Reservation, New York's first state park, ensuring that Niagara Falls will not be devoted solely to industrial and commercial use. 1897 – J. J. Thomson of the Cavendish Laboratory announces his discovery of the electron as a subatomic particle, over 1,800 times smaller than a proton (in the atomic nucleus), at a lecture at the Royal Institution in London. 1900 – Hawaii becomes a territory of the United States, with Sanford B. Dole as governor. 1905 – Albert Einstein completes his doctoral thesis at the University of Zurich. 1925 – Automaker Dodge Brothers, Inc is sold to Dillon, Read & Co. for US$146 million plus $50 million for charity. 1927 – The Federal Industrial Institute for Women opens in Alderson, West Virginia, as the first women's federal prison in the United States. 1937 – The Commonwealth of the Philippines holds a plebiscite for Filipino women on whether they should be extended the right to suffrage; over 90% would vote in the affirmative. 1939 – The 1939–40 New York World's Fair opens. 1939 – NBC inaugurates its regularly scheduled television service in New York City, broadcasting President Franklin D. Roosevelt's N.Y. World's Fair opening day ceremonial address. 1943 – World War II: The British submarine HMS Seraph surfaces near Huelva to cast adrift a dead man dressed as a courier and carrying false invasion plans. 1945 – World War II: Führerbunker: Adolf Hitler and Eva Braun commit suicide after being married for less than 40 hours. Soviet soldiers raise the Victory Banner over the Reichstag building. 1945 – World War II: Stalag Luft I prisoner-of-war camp near Barth, Germany is liberated by Soviet soldiers, freeing nearly 9000 American and British airmen. 1947 – In Nevada, Boulder Dam is renamed Hoover Dam. 1948 – In Bogotá, Colombia, the Organization of American States is established. 1956 – Former Vice President and Democratic Senator Alben Barkley dies during a speech in Virginia. 1957 – Supplementary Convention on the Abolition of Slavery entered into force. 1961 – K-19, the first Soviet nuclear submarine equipped with nuclear missiles, is commissioned. 1963 – The Bristol Bus Boycott is held in Bristol to protest the Bristol Omnibus Company's refusal to employ Black or Asian bus crews, drawing national attention to racial discrimination in the United Kingdom. 1973 – Watergate scandal: U.S. President Richard Nixon announces that White House Counsel John Dean has been fired and that other top aides, most notably H. R. Haldeman and John Ehrlichman, have resigned. 1975 – Fall of Saigon: Communist forces gain control of Saigon. The Vietnam War formally ends with the unconditional surrender of South Vietnamese president Dương Văn Minh. 1980 – Beatrix is inaugurated as Queen of the Netherlands following the abdication of Juliana. 1980 – The Iranian Embassy siege begins in London. 1982 – The Bijon Setu massacre occurs in Calcutta, India. 1993 – CERN announces World Wide Web protocols will be free. 1994 – Formula One racing driver Roland Ratzenberger is killed in a crash during the qualifying session of the San Marino Grand Prix run at Autodromo Enzo e Dino Ferrari outside Imola, Italy. 1999 – Neo-Nazi David Copeland carries out the last of his three nail bombings in London at the Admiral Duncan gay pub, killing three people and injuring 79 others. 2000 – Canonization of Faustina Kowalska in the presence of 200,000 people and the first Divine Mercy Sunday celebrated worldwide. 2004 – U.S. media release graphic photos of American soldiers abusing and sexually humiliating Iraqi prisoners at Abu Ghraib prison. 2008 – Two skeletal remains found near Yekaterinburg, Russia are confirmed by Russian scientists to be the remains of Alexei and Anastasia, two of the children of the last Tsar of Russia, whose entire family was executed at Yekaterinburg by the Bolsheviks. 2009 – Chrysler files for Chapter 11 bankruptcy. 2009 – Seven civilians and the perpetrator are killed and another ten injured at a Queen's Day parade in Apeldoorn, Netherlands in an attempted assassination on Queen Beatrix. 2012 – An overloaded ferry capsizes on the Brahmaputra River in India killing at least 103 people. 2013 – Willem-Alexander is inaugurated as King of the Netherlands following the abdication of Beatrix. 2014 – A bomb blast in Ürümqi, China kills three people and injures 79 others.

[just-a-girl-with-a-pistol]

Screw it. Screw it an art dump

Roland themed art dump.

Ah yes the only true nugget and whoever is telling you otherwise is lying :)

Ok time for something that’s not messy

Shitty kitchen but eh I’m not good with perspective when I’m tired.

And if you’re wondering I’m gonna redraw faded memories digitally.... and false throne too... this is going to be hell but no one told me art is easy. It’s a nightmare :)

[dcschain]

MID-WORLD, AND AN APOCALYPSE (OR TWO).

TL;DR: While Roland, and all characters related to him, operate in what appears to be an adaptation of our world’s historical West, it is an interpretation of the West filtered through a post-apocalyptic lens. It combines the idea of the West as a dying thing, destined to be swallowed by the inexorable processes of time, with it being the last dregs of a world gone terribly, irreparably wrong. Roland’s West (represented, chiefly, by the gunslingers themselves) is not dying because of progress, a trope typical of neo-Westerns (looking at you, RDR2), but it is dying because the world itself is dying as a consequence of some great cataclysmic event which happened in the past. The threat is not the threat of progress (which annihilates the West anyway), but of a complete loss of self.

It’s known that Roland’s world is a dying world. In Stephen King’s own words: “The world had moved on since then. The world had emptied.” Things we’d think as normal, even typical of a Western setting are scarce. There’s barely any coaches or carriages, for example, and paper is as rare as clean water or non-mutated animals. Guns, rifles and bullets are scarce, too, especially following the fall of Gilead -- Roland is really the only one left with guns of note. Mid-World is certainly a twinner of the American West-- but it’s the West after the apocalypse. What’s even more important is to remember that there hasn’t been just one cataclysmic event that made Mid-World what it is, but two. One centuries before Roland was born, and one in his youth. 

The way these two apocalypses interact (or rather, interlock) shapes much of mine and @cllgood​‘s world-building. 

In neo-Westerns the slow end of the “Wild West” and its frontier values is heralded by the virtually inescapable march of modern progress. The key word is nostalgia: the West, uncivilised, violent, animalistic, must necessarily die in order for modernity to thrive, yet with its death comes the death of R/romance and heroism, a deep-rooted connection to nature that modernity, while necessary, will destroy. This is, of course, a false dichotomy: the nostalgia is for an idyllic albeit violent world that didn’t really exist, built on the backs of enslaved people and indigenous people: a violence narrativised as simplicity. The grizzled outlaw is in the West only because he was promised riches beyond compare, and those riches were to be taken from a land painted as virgin and untarnished -- never mind that people had been inhabiting it for millennia before the colonisation of North America began. (Good) neo-Westerns are aware of this idiosyncrasy and attempt to either resolve it or emphasise it, and usually achieve a mix of both, constrained as they are by their own cultural history, biases and writing.

“Progress”, in typical neo-Westerns, is the plot point that allows the audience to recognise that this advancement is, for better or for worse, ushering in a new age, most often technologically more advanced: steam engines, paved roads, transcontinental railways, so on and so forth. The loss of the untouched frontier (in and of itself, at least originally, an act of progress to tame the “savage” west) is a tragedy, but one that, for better or for worse, is acknowledged as both necessary and inevitable.

Post-apocalyptic fiction, on the other hand, can show us what that progress can wreak when left unchecked. The disasters that cause the wastelands that post-apocalyptic fiction populates are man-wrought, and often the result of a war, a nuclear accident, a massive polluting event. The post-apocalyptic genre serves as a criticism of the progress neo-Westerns try to grapple with -- and it isn’t a coincidence that some of the best post-apocalyptic books and movies rely heavily on neo-Western tropes, such as The Road and The Book of Eli.

The world of The Dark Tower is, obviously, part of the latter category: a post-apocalyptic world with a Western flair. Instead of being threatened by progress, Roland’s world is threatened by the fallout of not only its own hubris, but that of those who came before him and his people. The two apocalypses are both due to human error, and the second cannot exist without the first.

The first one is the one that, ultimately, sets the events of The Dark Tower in motion, and is grandfather to the second one. The Great Cataclysm is the reason Roland’s world is irradiated, crumbling and generally inhospitable. While not much, if anything, is known about what this Cataclysm was, the scars of it are ever-present, from traces of ancient technology much closer to our own (atomic batteries, monorails, robots) to the aforementioned widespread nuclear waste that causes most animals (and some people) to suffer the aftermath of terrible radiation poisoning.

And while it may have been cataclysmic in nature, it was not final, nor was it the death knell of the world. Recovery is slow: Arthur Eld, Roland’s ancestor, manages to pull the land together by the skin of his teeth, and unite it into what would eventually be known as All-World. He founds an order of knights, who then become the gunslinger order once guns are discovered, and who are tasked with protecting the land against chaos, man-made and magical both. This leads to a difficultly-held prosperity.

By the time Roland is born, it is abundantly clear that this prosperity, while instrumental to the gunslingers’ rise as the ruling class, is fleeting at best, and destined to crash and burn at worst. Gilead, the seat of the gunslingers’ power and the ancestral seat of Eld’s throne, is the only true city left. Things we take for granted, and which were taken for granted in the American 19th and early 20th centuries, are scarce or entirely absent: sugar, telephones, trains and paper, to name just a few.

Regardless of the nature of this prosperity, the long-term effects of the Great Cataclysm are inescapable. While Eld was able to unite the land, he lacked the tools to cure it, as did every ruler after him. The land was poisoned by the Old Ones then, and it remains poisoned now: a fact which, with the passing of centuries, was less and less central to the gunslingers’ understanding of their own power. The sickness of the land is what causes the class disparities in Mid-World. The discontent that Walter o’Dim uses to stoke the fires of revolution in Mid-World is not misplaced, quite the contrary: where New Canaan is still prosperous, the barony is not generous with its boons, and the rest of the kingdom must make do with what it has.

The revolution that culminates with the complete eradication of the gunslingers and their way of life causes what is known in-universe as a “beam-quake”. Great events of massive importance either strengthen or weaken the beams which hold up the Dark Tower (and, therefore, reality itself). The fall of Gilead is an upset of such magnitude that the Eagle-Lion beam breaks as a consequence of it.

As the beam is now broken, so reality in Mid-World begins to fully falter. The beam-quake is the second apocalyptic event, and one that is a direct consequence of the first. The land was poisoned by the Old Ones, and the gunslingers that came after failed to see how this fully pertained to them. In their hubris, they caused the Outer Baronies to starve and succumb even further to the inhospitable nature of Mid-World. While they are not at fault for the original pollution and nuclear waste, the gunslingers are at fault for ignoring it as long as they did. 

The beam-quake’s effects are immediate. Time begins to shift, becoming unreliable: days can pass in a moment, months can pass in what feels like decades, and so on and so forth. Space, too, is impacted, as north, west, east and south can shift at a moment’s notice. The barrier between worlds is thinner, and magic creatures, such as speaking-demons and apparitions, become more common. 

Where the Great Cataclysm was mostly an apocalypse of matter, the beam-quake is an apocalypse of philosophy. While the Great Cataclysm could be counteracted, to a certain extent, and was successfully contrasted by Arthur Eld’s actions, the beam-quake causes a complete breakdown not just of the people and their ideology, but of the very fabric of reality. There is no return from it and there is no going back from it, much like progress in neo-Westerns can never be stopped: the difference here, of course, is that it isn’t progress, but a slow, inexorable death.

The world moves on, but it moves on in a flat circle: the endless climb of technological advancement has been stilled. Roland navigates a world grappling with its own mortality, and, much like our West in the face of modern times, can scarcely find a satisfying answer. 

[mystacoceti]

Dominici, or the Triumph of Literature - Roland Barthes

The whole Dominici trial was performed according to a certain idea of psychology, which happens as if by accident to be that of the proprieties of bourgeois literature. Material proofs being uncertain or contradictory, recourse was had to mental proofs; and where to find these if not in the very mentality of the accusers? There fore the motives and sequence of actions were reconstructed with a free hand but without the shadow of a doubt; a procedure like that of those archaeologists who gather old stones from all over an excavation site, and with their quite modern cement erect a delicate wayside alter to Sesostris, or even reconstruct a religion dead for two thousand years by consulting the remains of universal wisdom, which is in fact only their own wisdom elaborated in the academies of the Third Republic.

A comparable procedure was applied to obtain old Dominici’s “psychology.” Was it actually his? No one knows. But we can be sure it was the psychology of the Presiding Judge of the Assizes or of the Public Prosecutor. Do these two mentalities, that of the old peasant from the Alps and that of the judiciary personnel, function in the same way? Nothing is less likely. Yet it is in the name of a “universal” psychology that old Dominici was condemned: descending from the charming empyrean of bourgeois novels and essentialist psychology, Literature has just condemned a man to the scaffold. Listen to the Public Prosecutor: Sir Jack Drummond, as I have told you, was afraid. But he knows the the best way to defend yourself is always to attack. He therefore hurls himself on this savage creature and takes the old man by the throat. Not one word is exchanged between them. But for Gaston Dominici, the simple fact that someone wants to hold him down by the shoulders is unthinkable. He is not physically able to oppose the strength that is suddenly pitted against him. This is plausible, as the temple of Sesostris is plausible, or the Literature of Monsieur Genevoix. Merely to base an archaeological reconstruction or a novel on a “Why not?” harms no one. But Justice? Periodically, some trial, and not necessarily a fictional one like the one in Camus’ L’ Étranger, comes to remind you that Justice is always ready to lend you a spare brain in order to condemn you without a second thought, and that like Corneille it depicts you as you ought to be and not as you are.

This appearance of Justice in the world of the accused is possible thanks to an intermediary myth, always made good use of by officialdom, whether the Court of Assizes or literary tribunals: the myth of the transparency and the universality of language. The Presiding Assize Judge, who reads Le Figaro, obviously has no scruples about exchanging words with an old “illiterate” goatherd. Don’t they share the same language, and the clearest one there is, French? Wonderful assurance of a classical education, where shepherds converse with judges without embarrassment! But here, too, behind the prestigious (and grotesque morality of Latin translations and French essays, a man’s head is at stake.

Still, the disparity of languages, their impenetrable barriers, have been emphasized by several journalists, and Jean Giono himself has given numerous examples of this in his accounts of court sessions. Such observations show that there is no need to imagine mysterious barriers, misunderstandings à la Kafka. No, syntax, vocabulary, most of the elementary, analytical materials of language blindly seek on another without ever meeting, but no one pays the slightest attention: Etes vous allé au pont? —Allée? Il n’y a pas d’allée, je le sais, j’y suis été [”Did you go {allé} to the bridge?” “Alley? There is no alley. I know that for a fact. I’ve been there.”] And this “universal” language comes at just the right time to reinforce the psychology of the masters: it permits that psychology always to take other men as objects, to describe and to condemn at the same time. It is an adjectival psychology, knowing only how to endow its victims with attributes, being ignorant of their actions except for the culpable categories into which they are made to fit. These categories are those of classical comedy or of a treatise of graphology: boastful, irritable, selfish, cunning, lecherous, hard; in its eyes a man exists only by the “character” which designates him to a society as an object of more or less easy assimilation, as a subject of a more or less respectful submission. Utilitarian, setting aside any state of consciousness, such psychology yet claims to base any action on a previous interiority, it postulates “the soul”; it judges man as a “conscience,” without being troubled by having previously described him as an object.

Now this particular psychology, in whose name you can easily be decapitated, comes straight out of our traditional literature, which is called in bourgeois style the literature of the Human Document. It is in the name of the human document that old Dominici was condemned. Justice and literature have entered into an alliance, have exchanged their old techniques, thereby revealing their basic identity and impudently compromising one another. Behind the judges in curule thrones, the writers (Giono, Salacrou). At the prosecutor’s desk, a magistrate? No, an “extraordinary storyteller,” endowed with an “incontestable wit” and a “dazzling verve” (to quote the shocking satisfecit accorded to the prosecutor by Le Monde). Even the police here are seen to be practicing their style. (A Police Superintendent: “Never have I seen such a  jocular liar, such a wary gambler, such a merry storyteller, such a crafty trickster, such a giddy septuagenarian, such a deceptive dissimulator . . . Gaston Dominici is a quick-change artist juggling with human souls and bestial thoughts. He has not a few faces, this false patriarch of the Grand’Terre, he has a hundred!” Antitheses, metaphors, flights of oratory, it is the whole of classical rhetoric which accuses the old shepherd here. Justice has clapped on the mask of realist literature, of the rustic tale, while literature itself came into court in search of new “human” documents, innocently culling on the accused’s countenance and on those of the suspects the reflexion of a psychology which, however, it had been the first to impose on them all by the arm of the law.

Only, confronting the literature of repletion (always passed off as the literature of the “real,” of the “human”) there is a literature of anguish: the Dominici trial has also been that literature. There have not been here only writers hungering for reality and storytellers whose “dazzling verve” takes off a man’s head; whatever the degree of the accused’s guilt, there has also been the spectacle of a terror by which all of us are threatened, that of being judged by a power which will hear only the language it lends us. We are all potential Dominicis, not murderers but as the accused deprived of language or, worse, dressed up, humiliated, condemned in that of our accusers. To steal his language from a man in the very name of language, every legal murder begins here.