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write-r-die · 3 years

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Prisoner - Part 14

February, 1067

Henry Cavill is a respected Norman baron who has been tasked with finding Lady Thomasin, an ill-tempered Saxon noblewoman, and returning her to London so the king can marry her off to a cruel Norman invader. The two grow close during the long journey, and Henry puts his own life in danger (more than once) to protect the woman he loves.

Masterlist

This chapter sucks but it’s about to get super good!

Thomasin went straight to church in the morning to confess. She liked and trusted Elaine, but she wasn’t comfortable sharing her innermost thoughts with her yet, especially since her daughter was likely to eavesdrop.

Not that she particularly trusted William’s priest to keep her confidence, especially considering what she planned to confess.

Her conversation with Charlie pricked at her mind like a sewing needle hidden in a bed might prick at her body.

Thomasin lowered herself to her knees and made the sign of the cross. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three months since my last confession.” It was the custom to confess at least once a month, but the past year’s events had altered everyone’s routines.

“What are your sins, daughter?”

“I have been unkind. I have blasphemed. I have not loved my neighbors. I have not kept the Sabbath day. I have been . . . amorous.” These were mostly the same sins as usual, but the amorousness was a new addition thanks to that week she spent in Henry’s lap. “That’s all I can remember.”

“Are you sure of that?” asked the priest.

Thomasin took a deep breath. “No. I have not yet - that is, I’m considering another sin. You won’t betray my confidence, Father, will you? That must surely be a sin. Is it not?”

“It is. No, child, I won’t betray your confidence and share your secrets. What is this sin you consider?”

“I’m thinking of . . . lying . . . to the king.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the curtain. “Explain.”

All at once, Thomasin’s story came rushing out starting with the night the Cavills took her prisoner to Charlie’s idea that she lie to the king about her virginity. “And I know I mustn’t bear false witness against my neighbor, but I am not bearing false witness against my neighbor, only myself. You see?”

The priest was silent for a long time. “Would it truly be so bad to marry Lawrence?”

“Yes!” He drove his wife to commit self-murder. Didn’t he? He didn’t seem actively cruel. Did he truly become so angry that he beat his wife until she lost the child in her belly? It seemed to Thomasin that he couldn’t be bothered to do such a thing, that he didn’t feel anything strongly enough to act in such a way – to act at all, really.

“I think so,” Thomasin amended. “I can’t be sure. But it cannot be good.” Of that, she was quite certain.

“Is that the only reason you don’t wish to marry him?” asked the priest.

“There’s Henry, too, of course.” She swallowed hard. “I cannot bear the thought of Henry being with someone else.” The words stuck in her dry throat like fish bones. Lord. That was the first time she’d admitted it. It was painfully true. The idea of Henry bedding another woman, her bearing his children – it made her sick to her stomach.

The priest sighed. “It is never easy to follow God’s laws. We all must make sacrifices to enter His Kingdom, for the road to Heaven is narrow and steep.”

“You think I ought to marry Lawrence? Don’t you know what happened to his last wife?”

“Seek solace in the spiritual world. Devote yourself to God. It is through Him that you will find comfort and joy.”

Thomasin had to literally bite her tongue to keep from lashing out. Wouldn’t God want His children to be happy? Didn’t He want Lawrence to be punished?

The priest told her to recite certain prayers to atone for her sins. She thanked him as graciously as possible and nearly stomped out of the chapel.

She was being childish, she knew, but she could not help it. Most girls were married off at fourteen to men they did not know. She was some twenty years old and unwed. She spent her life being coddled and guarded by her father. And now she was a piece of chattel to be traded by men who did not know her or care for her wellbeing.

She knew in her heart that Henry wouldn’t let that happen. He’d give his arm for her if she asked him to. But it might not be enough.

She believed that he was a finer swordsman that Lawrence – better than even King William, perhaps – but she also believed his honor made him vulnerable. Henry might be the finer warrior, but she suspected Lawrence had a great and dark mind. That could be just as dangerous. Sometimes more so.

Henry ordered her to let him deal with the matter. It was the only thing he ever truly asked of the woman he held so dearly and treated with such generosity and respect. But if it was in her power to preserve the life and limb of the man to whom she owed her own, how could she not? Surely he would understand. He must.

***

The next few days numbered among the most difficult in Thomasin’s life. She felt sick even after her courses passed; she’d worked herself into a fine state. She had an episode like this when she was young, around the time of her mother’s death. The healer, a monk, called it hysteria. She’d been blessedly free of it since then – it didn’t even happen when her father got sick – but now it was back, and it would not go away.

One of the Saxon prisoners died – of what, Thomasin did not know – and two more pledged their loyalty to William, even though it meant giving up everything they owned, including their dignity. They made their pledge in front of the entire court just before supper.

Thomasin and Henry were seated at the table at opposite sides, one chair over from each other. They could steal glances at one another during the meal, but they could not speak. Thomasin supposed that was the point.

Lawrence had taken to sitting next to her most nights. They didn’t speak. Lawrence had ceased with the pleasantries after her comment about his last wife. He ignored her as much as possible, but he sneered whenever she spoke.

Thomasin understood that he didn’t want this any more than she did, but he needed a wife to produce heirs and Thomasin was a gift from the king. He couldn’t refuse. He did still get pleasure out of the arrangement, for seeing him with Thomasin upset Henry to the point where he could hardly hold back his anger. Between Henry’s jealousy and Thomasin’s feistiness, conquering her was sure to be excellent sport.

The Saxon knights came forward and fell to their knees before the king and his wife and made their pledges. The other Saxons in attendance – mostly women, but a handful of warriors and former nobles that pledged themselves to the Normans early on – showed a range of emotions. Some of the men applauded their brothers for being sensible; others appeared to be ashamed. Most of the women looked like the wanted the whole thing over and done with, especially Elaine, who knew most of the Saxon prisoners either from tending their wounds or meeting them at court before the Norman invasion.

Henry’s reaction was surprising. He glared at the trencher of food in front of him, nostrils flared and jaw clenched as though he were the one being forced to swallow his pride. Thomasin made no effort to hide her concern, and neither did Charlie.

He, of course, knew about Cerdic’s presence in the dungeon, and he worried that Henry would allow his emotions to get the best of him. Frankly, he didn’t understand why Henry was so upset. He thought Cerdic was dead already; soon enough he would be. Perhaps he was feeling guilty for his part in the conquest. Thomasin had his head in knots.

During the applause that followed the oaths, Henry shoved away from the table and made a beeline for the main doors without offering any excuse or explanation.

Thomasin looked quizzically at Charlie, who sat directly across from her. He shook his head. She stood up and went after him anyway.

The large corridor was mostly empty, except for a young couple kissing deeply in a shadowed corner and a handful of female servants walking back and forth between the hall and the kitchens. They gossiped as they walked, paying no attention to those around them.

“Henry,” Thomasin called, scurrying over to him. He had his shoulder leaned against the wall and he was rubbing his face with his hand.

He looked up at the sound of Thomasin’s voice and gave a weary smile. “You should not have followed me,” Henry said, trying to sound stern; he just sounded tired. He caught sight of his ring hanging from the chain around Thomasin’s neck. He held it in his hand, still hanging from her neck, and smiled slightly.

“You followed me when I ran off in the woods,” she said. “I’m only returning the favor.”

“Or exacting your revenge,” Henry teased.

Thomasin shrugged her narrow shoulders and repeated Henry’s earlier words back to him. “It’s a matter of perspective.”

“This looks very fine on you,” Henry said of the ring.

“Will you have a pendant made for me like your brothers’ wives and your mother?”

“Patience,” he said teasingly. In fact, he had commissioned a jeweler shortly after arriving in London, though the piece’s production was delayed because Henry didn’t have his ring to show the jeweler. Instead, he had to provide the man with his shield so he could study the symbols painted on it. It wouldn’t be very pretty, he thought, but as long as it was recognizable it didn’t matter.

He knew better than to seek to borrow Charlie’s ring when he arrived. He would lend it to Henry if he asked him to, but he’d certainly put up a fuss about it.

And then he remembered the Saxon awaiting his death three floors below them.

Henry’s smile faltered.

“What’s wrong?” Thomasin murmured.

Seeing Cerdic, simply knowing that he was alive and nearby, upset Henry. As far as he could tell, the man was a boar, and it would be no great loss to the world for him to die. But it still bothered him.

Cerdic didn’t know about Henry’s relationship with Thomasin, her betrothal to Lawrence, or even that she was at court. He had no fondness for Thomasin, it seemed, and he would certainly not treat her with respect if they were wed, but he was still a living reminder of the life the Normans stole from her. That Henry stole from her. He sometimes felt that Thomasin was as much a prisoner as her former intended.

She cared for Henry, of course, but he wondered how much of her affection was true – true, in that it would still be there if she were free of Norman rule – if she had the option to return home to her father and go on living as she did before.

More than that, he worried how Thomasin would feel if she knew Cerdic was here. He swore Roger and Charlie to secrecy, of course. Lawrence didn’t know of his intended’s former relationship with the red-bearded prisoner – if he did, he would surely use that information to inflict pain.

“The Saxons . . .” Henry shook his head. “I’m so tired of all this fighting.”

Thomasin took a deep breath knowing she was about to start a fight. “Then why do you insist on fighting Lawrence?”

Henry’s nostrils flared in anger; he let the ring fall back into place. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not trying to start anything,” she said apologetically. She stepped closer as he started pacing in a circle, one hand on his hip as he rubbed his brow with the other. His hair, still short by Saxon standards, was a small pile of tumbling curls stacked atop his head. But he still looked so handsome. “I just . . . I’m just . . .”

“Just what?”

“I’m frightened! All right?!” How dare he make her say it out loud?

Henry stopped pacing. He tried to soften his features, but he was still stiff with nervousness. “It will be all right, Tom. Nothing will happen to you.”

“I don’t care about me!” she hissed. “I want to protect you just as much as you wish to protect me. Why won’t you let me?”

Henry was lost. “How?”

Kal let loose a warning bark that nearly made Thomasin jump. She hadn’t even realized he was in the hall with them. “Go,” she said to Henry. “I need a moment to compose myself.”

Henry slipped past her just as Lawrence came into view, carrying a goblet of wine in one hand and holding the other behind his back. Henry tensed his muscles so hard he nearly shook. Thomasin nodded silently to assure him that she was all right. Henry stomped back into the hall as Lawrence took a long drink from his goblet of wine.

“Would you like some?” he asked Thomasin.

“No, thank you.”

“Very well.” He tapped his fingernail against the rim of the glass. “You remember the nobleman’s family that I put to death?” he asked, lifting the cup to his lips again.

What sort of a question was that? “Yes.”

“Do you think they would’ve been better off alive, surrounded by lustful soldiers?” Lawrence asked calmly. “Do you think the baroness would be pleased to see her young daughters beaten and defiled in the same home where she was once mistress? It was a mercy killing in some ways.”

Thomasin was silent. She’d considered such questions for months after the Normans landed up until the night Henry lifted her out of her hiding place. She always concluded that she would rather be dead than passed around like a brood mare.

“You’d never have been so lucky. That would’ve been your fate if the king weren’t so set on bringing your brother to heel, which he clearly cannot, and if anyone but the Cavills had come for you, you would’ve been tied and beaten into submission and raped nightly, not carried about like a babe with your virtue intact.”

“I know that,” Thomasin snapped. What was his point? “Are you truly surprised that I might wish to marry someone who would treat me well? Someone I know would never raise a hand to me?”

“I won’t deny that I struck my wife on more than one occasion,” Lawrence said. “She came to me when she was fifteen years old. Still a child in need of discipline. You’re more intelligent, more mature, and I think you will know better than she did. I was not the source of all her troubles, as much as you might like to think so.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I dislike the way that you fawn over Henry and regard me as the most heinous of villains. You should be grateful for your good fortune. You’re betrothed to a man capable of mercy toward women.”

Beating his wife was mercy? He likely just meant that he wouldn’t take her against her will, and that was a great mercy indeed for women. Beating wasn’t so heinous, Thomasin supposed, but that didn’t mean she was all right with it.

“What do you care what I think?”

“I don’t. I care about whether or not my peers perceive me as weak, though, and I won’t have a wife who runs after another man anytime he frowns.” His voice remained even but his whole face had gone bright red with anger. “We’re to be wed next week. Once you are mine, I won’t tolerate such behavior. A wife obeys her husband in all things; you will not embarrass me by fawning over a weakling. Should you continue to do so, I won’t hesitate to show you my displeasure. Am I clear?”

The calm with which he spoke was unsettling. God’s truth, Thomasin would have felt better if he shouted.

Thomasin dipped her head. “I understand, my lord.”

Lawrence’s face returned to its normal color and a smile bloomed across his face. “Good.” He gave Thomasin a peck on the cheek. “Sleep well, my beloved.”

She didn’t notice Elaine and her daughter standing nearby until Elaine called out to her. “Thomasin?” She scurried over to her friend. “Are you all right?” Thomasin swallowed back the lump in her throat and nodded. “Here. Come with me.” She released her grip on Mercia to pull Thomasin around a corner for greater privacy, squeezing her hands reassuringly. “What’s happened?”

Thomasin didn’t realize all the color was gone from her face or that she was quaking like a leaf. “I’m fine.”

“Mamma?” Mercia said.

“A moment, my love,” her mother told her. “She was falling asleep at the table; I was leaving to put her to bed,” she explained to Thomasin. “I didn’t mean to listen in on your conversation.”

“I don’t care about that,” Thomasin said, shaking her head.

“I didn’t hear anything clearly,” Elaine said over her. “I only saw that he was talking to you and the look on your face.”

Mercia wasn’t paying attention to what the women were saying, she only saw the sadness in Thomasin’s eyes. “Why you crying?” she asked, eyebrows knit together. Thomasin noticed for the first time how cherubic the child appeared.

“I’m not crying.” Thomasin honestly didn’t think she was. And she wasn’t really, in that there were no tears, but she certainly looked distressed.

The child wouldn’t accept the non-explanation. “Mamma, why she crying?”

Elaine released her friend’s hands and crouched to look her daughter in the eye. “Go back inside, please. Lady Thomasin and I are speaking. I’ll take you to bed just as soon as we’ve finished.”

“But she sad!” Mercia objected. She looked around. “Where Bear? Bear make you happy. I go find!” She was still upset with Kal for assaulting Batty, but she trusted in his ability to bring joy to others.

“No, no, that’s all right,” Thomasin said with a sniffle. “I don’t want to bother him.” The last thing she needed was for Henry to be involved.

Mercia frowned for a moment before thrusting her doll up toward Thomasin’s face. “Take,” she commanded. “Batty make you feel better.”

Thomasin swallowed again and reached out numb fingers. She couldn’t remember the last time she held a doll. “Thank you.”

“Not for always,” Mercia said, holding up a finger. “You keep just until you feel better.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

Elaine and Mercia walked Thomasin back to her room. Elaine gave Etheldreda some instructions. “Mercia, can Lady Thomasin borrow some of Batty’s magic?”

“Just a little bit,” Mercia agreed.

Elaine smiled in thanks. She tore the doll open just enough to pull out some of the dried lavender, which she instructed Etheldreda to put in hot water for Thomasin to drink. “It will keep you from getting upset. I’ll send along some more herbs to help you rest. And more of Batty’s magic,” she assured her daughter. She turned back to Thomasin. “It won’t seem so bad in the morning. A good night’s sleep always helps.”

“I don’t think I can shut my eyes,” Thomasin said.

Elaine smirked. “Sleeping drafts are my specialty.” She didn’t mention that the drafts were the only thing that kept her from going mad when the Normans arrived. Without them, she’d spend all night staring up at the ceiling, clutching her daughter to her chest, praying for mercy from God and the invaders both.

She slipped away to put Mercia to sleep while Etheldreda prepared Thomasin for bed she sent a servant back with a pack of herbs for Etheldreda to make a sleeping draft and a handful of lavender to replace Batty’s stuffing.

Thomasin watched the fire flicker until the draft was ready. Etheldreda watched her drink, ensuring she drained every drop. Thomasin wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist.

“Lie down,” said Etheldreda.

Thomasin shuffled down in the bed as her maid drew the covers over her. “Etheldreda, have you ever been married?”

She nodded. “Twice.”

“Did you love your husbands?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Did they ever beat you?”

The old woman frowned. “Peasant women can be lucky on occasion. Sometimes we get to choose our husbands.” She tucked Batty under the covers beside Thomasin. “Shut your eyes and rest.”

“I don’t feel tired,” Thomasin said skeptically. She was asleep moments later.

Thomasin woke around noon the following day. She was still in a daze, so she decided to keep to her rooms for the day. She’d go visit Henry once she was feeling better.

Etheldreda drew her a steaming bath to ease her into the waking world. She washed and brushed her mistress’s hair, as there was too much of it for Thomasin to manage on her own. She told little stories about her daughters and granddaughters. She had sons, too, Thomasin thought, but she didn’t talk about them. Thomasin guessed they were killed in the war.

A servant dropped off some bread and cheese so Etheldreda and Thomasin did not need to leave the room for their nooning meal. Thomasin did feel better, she thought as Etheldreda laced the back of her simple gown.

The servant had only just finished when someone pounded on the door so hard that it shook. “Thomasin!” It was Charlie’s voice.

She pulled the door open, knowing immediately that something bad had happened. “What is it?”

Charlie’s shoulders heaved as he breathed heavily; he’d clearly run from wherever he had been to Thomasin’s room. “Henry’s challenging Lawrence.”

“Today?”

“Now!” Charlie said. “If you want to help him, we must go.”

Thomasin didn’t even stop to put on her slippers. She ran alongside Charlie, damp hair loose and whipping around her. The people they passed looked at her like she’d gone mad. Maybe they thought she was drunk for presenting herself in public like that. Or a strumpet.

They finally reached the throne room.

Charlie shoved the doors open and Thomasin rushed inside. Henry had removed his glove and prepared to throw it down; Thomasin surged forward and managed to grab it out of his hand before he could and careened toward the dais and the king.

She fell so heavily on her knees that she scraped the skin. She’d have awful bruises tomorrow. It didn’t matter. She stared up at the king with enormous eyes. “Your grace, they can’t fight,” she gasped. “Please don’t let them fight.”

“Thomasin,” Henry snarled.

“There’s no need for them to fight,” Thomasin said over him. She refused to turn and look at him.

William raised an eyebrow. “No need? Does this mean you’ll marry Lawrence willingly?”

“Absolutely not.” Her tone was far too harsh but she prayed William would excuse her given the circumstances. “But – I cannot be his wife. Not truly.”

William asked, “Why?”

Oh, God help her. This stupid, stupid girl. Charlie’s plan might not work but she at least had to try.

“Because. Because I’m not – I’m – I’m not a virgin!”

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whitherliliesbloom · 3 years

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style over shadow

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #02 - aberrant ]

[ drk npcs ] ★ [ 1,037 words ] ★ [ post-shb, no spoilers ]

aberrant- deviating from the usual or normal

sidurgu convinces himself that the black chunks of metal suited the warrior of light far more than pastel pink frills and flowers. rielle is more than eager to dispute that.

There isn’t much in the world that would surprise Sidurgu at this point - not the darkness that was the cruelty mortal kind hid behind the pretense of a righteous, noble way nor the many mysteries that has yet to be uncovered about the voice, about the shadow that he and an old friend had so desperately pursued. He’s seen much through his life, walked through the pits of hell and back. Nothing would ever phase him.

And yet, upon setting foot on the docks of Lavender Beds and catching a mere glimpse of an oddly familiar, yet strange and foreign figure all the same, he’s found himself completely stumped for words.

It wasn’t often that he and Rielle got to see the Savior of Ishgard, not since she’d last slain the fake that was Myste and reunited him, even momentarily, with the image of his long fallen friend Fray. The revelation that was the true nature behind those walking shades had certainly been an eye-opening one, and Sidurgu believed at that moment he’s seen all there was to uncover of the Warrior of Light, that he and Rielle are finally privvy to all of her - even her deepest darkest demons that she’d fought tooth and nail to no avail to hide.

He’s known her for a good few years - the lady heroine that he now saw to be his equal... and in some ways, even his superior.

But not once in their many meetings together as he seen her dressed like that.

Perhaps he should’ve guessed that there wasn’t very many people in the world who would willingly waltz around in a full suit of armor casually. Hell, he’d even seen the Warrior of Light in lighter garments once or twice before - albeit in a long white robe that was characteristic of battle healers.

Sidurgu knew Illya well enough to know she dabbled in more than just the dark arts... figured that she would probably have more casual, loose fitting clothing for when she’d pick them up at the Amethyst Shallows in order to show them to her home. This was, after all, meant to be a casual visit for them to catch up, after all.

But he apparently hadn’t known her well enough to anticipate the blindingly bright pink dress, the showy peach blossom corsage in her hair, the equally girlish peach blossom earrings or the subtle shades of light purple and pink over her painted nails.

In his 5 years of knowing the slayer of eikons, the great conquerer of the dark side and the only woman who he’s ever known to earn the favor of fray... he’d never expected Illya to be so....feminine.

The young lass went by many titles... great hero of eorzea, savior of the star and beyond... lady warrior. He’d called her by that name a good few times, a title of endearment for one he saw to be deserving of praise through her many altruistic deeds.

It’d simply be the first time Sidurgu would see her as a lady first, and a knight second.

He convinces himself that he prefers the plates of armor, by sole virtue of not knowing what to say even as he hears Rielle rattle on praises for her older sister figure’s sense of style. It does fit her in an odd way- as much as he hasn’t quite gotten used to the sight yet. The pastel colors bring out the vibrancy of her star spangled violet eyes more somehow. But it is still strange - and therefore not comparable to chainmail and gauntlets.

The Au Ra doesn’t hate the pink, but he does miss the black somewhat.

“Come on Sid! Aren’t you going to say something?” The young girl beside him calls out, and he feels a lump collecting in his throat.

“Uh-” what is there to say? He’d already thanked the Warrior of Light for inviting them over to her abode.

Truthfully, he’d be silent save for that curt utterance of gratitude when they’d first met, and it had been Rielle who would be continuously running her mouth towards their smaller, demure companion until now - and Sidurgu is anything but a mind reader when it came to social interactions. His dumbfoundedness only irritates Rielle.

“Look how pretty she is! She must have put so much thought into dressing up just to meet us. Isn’t that right, Illya?”

With a sheepish shake of her head, the lalafellin woman raises a hand to quickly swat away at the air, embarrassment burning her cheeks a bright shade of red.

“Goodness no... It’s no big deal, Rielle.” voice quiet even as she lets out a nervous laugh, Sidurgu swears he’s never heard Illya’s voice sound quite so much like little bells before now. “I must look quite strange.”

“Strange?? The only strange one here is Sid!” Rielle rebuttals, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “We’re here on a trip to visit you and here he is, mister tough guy dressed like he’s about to head into war.”

He takes no offense to that, merely meeting Rielle’s displeased glare up at him with raised eyebrows and a shrug of his shoulders. When was he ever not wearing his armor?

“I simply prefer substance over style is all.”

Off-handed his remark may be, Rielle evidently took great offense to his response, eyebrows furrowed deeply into a scowl that took even the lalafellin by surprise.

“How dare-” A foot brought forward, the elezen girl leans forward to admonish the man who could stare with mouth and eyes agape. “Of course you’d know nothing about style! That deadweight of metal you call clothing is going to be half the reason why you’ll never find a date,Sid. The other half being how rude you are!”

He’s stunned into silence once more, chills running through his nerves down the back of his spine despite the warm, humid air of the black shroud. And it isn’t until he hears the melodic giggle from the warrior of light did his momentarily short-circuited brain function enough again to allow him a soft, apologetic utterance of a ‘sorry’.

It would seem Illya wasn’t the only one he’s unknowingly witnessed another side of today.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #kiwisffxivwrite2021 #illya skawi #sidurgu orl #rielle de caulignont #sidurgu #rielle #fanfic #mine #bleh i don't really like this one but i'm behind time and i didn't wanna put this off anymore than I already have

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dwellordream · 3 years

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“…If the crusades were primarily military expeditions, and women were not expected to fight, we might first ask why they were present in significant numbers. What motivated their involvement? The answer to this question is not easily discernable since there were women from all classes of society present on crusade. Moreover, historians have no way of knowing for sure how many women and other non-combatants actually left with the crusading armies. The sheer length and size of many campaigns meant that for any medieval army to function effectively, it required many non-combatants – engineers, bakers, artisans, tailors, squires, prostitutes and so on – in addition to the presence of fighting men and their commanders.

Numerous women formed a part of this retinue; however, the vast majority of women were poor and, in comparison to the knights, foot soldiers and other male warriors who set out alongside them, militarily unsuited to the task of conquering the Holy Land. Many of these women came alone or unmarried, while others had left their homes to come on crusade with their whole family in search of a better life, no doubt influenced to some extent by the enthusiasm and excitement which greeted the whole concept of a holy war. Other factors probably also influenced their decisions to leave for with the crusade army. The fact that certain celestial phenomenon such as aurora and comet sightings around the time that the First Crusade was being preached auspiciously coincided with the end of a long French drought in 1096 may have prompted some women to leave with the crusade army, although it is hard to know for certain.

Moreover, there is also the possibility that, for those who wished to make the pilgrimage to Jerusalem, the prospect of travelling with an armed force who could protect them all the way appealed to unarmed female (and male) pilgrims. One eyewitness to the preparations for the First Crusade, Bernold of Constance, even recorded that ‘innumerable’ numbers of women disguised themselves in men’s clothing, possibly because they wished to actually take up arms against the enemy. This suggestion is supported by the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, which asserted that ‘women and children’ were amongst those who ‘wanted to war against heathen nations’. Furthermore, we cannot discount the spiritual incentive of simply going to the Holy Land, which undoubtedly would have also helped motivate the masses of men and women to leave on crusade.

In some cases noblewomen also left on crusade, usually in the company of their husbands or other male relatives. Eleanor of Aquitaine, Marie of Champagne, Marguerite of Provence and Eleanor of Castile are all well-known examples of women who followed their husbands on crusade to the Holy Land. Once again though, the motivations for noblewomen who went on crusade are not easily ascertained, although the length of the crusade expeditions (which could last for years) probably had something to do with it, especially for couples who wanted to stay together. Other women appear to have acted fairly independently: around the time of the First Crusade, Emerias of Altejas took the cross by herself, but was persuaded by the bishop of Toulouse to endow a monastery instead of leaving for Jerusalem.

Alice, countess of Brittany, took a crusade vow in the 1260s, and, after her husband died in 1279 without fulfilling his vows, left for the East – specifically the city of Acre – in the late 1280s. On a broader scale, Kedar has drawn attention to an extant passenger list of a crusader ship in the mid-thirteenth century that had 453 passengers on board, forty-two of which were women, and of these women twenty- two were travelling with no male companion. Whatever their motivation, the fact that certain lords and their wives had to consider such decisions at all helped differentiate the crusades from other, more localised military escapades fought on a smaller scale that did not involve the same prospect of spiritual reward or the same possibility for material gain (at least early on) in the form of land.

Clearly, then, there were women from a range of different backgrounds present on crusade, for a variety of different reasons. The support which they rendered to the fighting men, however, was primarily indirect and auxiliary regardless of their social rank, and included such tasks as washing, cleaning clothes, cooking, gathering supplies – even picking lice and fleas off the men’s bodies. They might also provide comfort to the men (through prostitution), or when new territory was conquered they could assist with and become a part of settlement plans within that territory. In another sense, however, women could provide spiritual support for the men, encouraging them whilst they fought and praying for God’s favour.

The medieval poet Baldric of Dol, for instance, in his account of the First Crusade, noted that women and other non-combatants were an integral part of the spiritual side of the crusade and prayed for the men whilst they were fighting. Although this may not sound like a particularly useful form of ‘support’ to those living in the twenty-first century, spiritual supplication was still important since the crusades were a holy war and it was believed that God was on their side. Prayer thus helped ensure God’s favour and consequently the likelihood of military success.

The provision of supplies to the fighting men, most notably water, was another basic but essential form of support women rendered to men on crusade. Describing the female presence at the battle of Dorylaeum, one anonymous chronicler at the scene notes how ‘[t]he women in our camp were a great help to us that day, for they brought up water for the fighting men to drink, and gallantly encouraged those who were fighting and defending them’. Likewise Margaret of Beverly, whose brother recorded her experiences in the Holy Land around the time of the Third Crusade, recounted how she put a pot on her head for protection and brought water to the men on the walls during Saladin’s siege of Jerusalem, being injured in the process by an enemy projectile.

Oliver of Paderborn, whose account of the Fifth Crusade is one of the most detailed and important sources available, also recalled a similar form of female support during the crusaders’ attack on Damietta in Egypt, when he mentions that ‘the women fearlessly brought water and stones, wine and bread to the warriors’. Not long afterwards, during a skirmish between crusaders and Saracens at a castle south of Damietta, he mentions women carrying and distributing water to clerics and foot-soldiers.

The Fifth Crusade also offers examples of how women might assist an army with other supplies besides water. Powell has documented how women were said to have helped grind corn for the Christian army whilst it was besieging Damietta, how they were in charge of the markets selling fish and vegetables to the crusaders, and how they helped attend to the sick and needy. Most notably, Powell notes that women even acted as guards in the crusade camp and were assigned with weapons to prevent desertions and maintain order while the army prepared for a fresh attack against the city.

Joinville too, in his chronicle of the Seventh Crusade, described women who ‘sold provisions’ raising a cry of alarm when the Count of Poitiers was captured at the battle of Mansourah (February 1250). These examples suggest that women could be of definite help on a military expedition, and whilst we should not generalise and assume that women fulfilled the same logistical roles in every crusade or medieval military campaign, it is important to be aware of the different ways they might have rendered basic support and provisions to armies on campaign.

At the same time, however, women sometimes did become much more involved with military actions and appear to have actually used weapons themselves on the enemy, though not specifically in hand-to-hand combat. During the second siege of Toulouse in 1218, for instance, women from within the city supposedly operated the mangonel or perrière (a stone-throwing device) that killed Simon de Montfort, leader of the Albigensian Crusade, just as a Frankish woman ‘shooting from the citadel’ with a mangonel was said to have destroyed the Muslims’ mangonel at Saladin’s siege of Burzay in 1188.

Acting in a similarly defensive manner were the women who helped repel the French attack during the siege of Hennebont in 1342 by throwing stones and pots of chalk from the walls onto the enemy at the urging of Jeanne de Montfort. Likewise, in 1358 women also played an important role in defending the French township of Senlis from an attack by French nobles during the short-lived but violent peasant uprising known as the ‘Jacquerie’. In this case, the townsfolk were forewarned of the attack and had their women stationed at windows ‘to pour great quantities of boiling water down upon the enemy’ while their men-folk fought off the attackers.

…Nevertheless, there are accounts of women who dressed in armour and who may have physically fought the enemy. In studying the evidence available, though, we must be very careful in accounting for possible bias in the sources, particularly in accounts where the author’s ulterior motive may have been to portray the enemy in an unfavourable light and especially when it comes to descriptions of actual female combatants. Hence we must treat as suspicious a passage by the Byzantine chronicler, Niketas Choniatēs, about mounted women bearing ‘lances and weapons’ and dressed in ‘masculine garb...more mannish than the Amazons’ on the Second Crusade. According to the modern translator, this passage was assumed by Steven Runciman to refer to Eleanor of Aquitaine and her retinue, despite the fact that her name was not specifically mentioned. While Eleanor was indeed present on this crusade, the passage makes more sense, however, if it is understood as an attempt to criticise the Franks as uncivilised and even barbaric compared to the Greeks, because they allowed their women to don armour and unnaturally fight as warriors.

In the same way, Muslim chroniclers’ descriptions of Frankish women who supposedly dressed up and rode into battle at the siege of Acre ‘as brave men though they were but tender women’, and who were subsequently ‘not recognised as women until they had been stripped of their arms’ – as well as another Muslim account of a Frankish noblewoman who allegedly fought at Acre alongside 500 of her own knights – must be treated with caution. As Nicholson has noted, for both Christians and Muslims ‘it was expected that good, virtuous women would not normally fight...in a civilised, godly society’. By depicting Frankish women as warriors, therefore, the Muslim chroniclers could illustrate the barbarous and heathen nature of Christian society and contrast it with the properly ordered Muslim society where women knew their place. Thus, while we cannot rule out the possibility that some women at Acre may have actually dressed up and fought, the Muslim accounts are certainly questionable.

Likewise, other accounts of female combatants and women in armour that do not appear to be influenced directly by religious bias must still be carefully evaluated. In France, Orderic Vitalis recorded how Isabel of Conches rode ‘armed as a knight among the knights’ during a conflict in 1090 between her husband, Ralph of Conches, and Count William of Évreux. Although Orderic remarked on her courage among the knights, he says nothing about her subsequent actions, and thus we have no way of knowing if she actually fought. In a similar vein, the English chronicler Jordan Fantosme, writing primarily of the rebellion against Henry II by his son Henry ‘the Young King’ in 1173-1174, asserted that the earl of Leicester had his wife, Petronella, countess of Leicester, dressed up in armour and given a shield and lance before the battle of Fornham in October 1173.

According to Fantosme, Petronella encouraged the earl to fight the English, but fled from the battle while it was in progress and then fell into a ditch where she nearly drowned. Fantosme, however, was the only chronicler to describe Petronella’s martial deeds, and Johns has argued that he was clearly trying to portray Petronella in an unsympathetic way in order to emphasise that women should not be involved in military affairs. Fantosme wrote to entertain, but also to instruct moral lessons and highlight divine law; Petronella thus served as an example against women’s involvement in war and the follies of accepting female advice. Nevertheless, Petronella must have been present or involved in some way since other sources do mention that she was captured after the battle along with the earl and that she was present with him on campaign in England.

Further afield, in the Holy Land, William of Tyre contended that in the first crusade army’s excitement at the imminent capture of Jerusalem ‘even women, regardless of their sex and natural weakness, dared to assume arms and fought manfully far beyond their strength’. His account, however, cannot be verified as no eyewitness accounts of this siege actually describe women acting in such a manner. Likewise, although the memoirs of the twelfth century Muslim nobleman Usāmah Ibn-Munqidh mention several female combatants – a female Muslim slave who rushed into battle ‘sword in hand’; a Frankish women who used a jar to try and help fend off an attack on Frankish pilgrims; a Muslim woman in Shayzar who captured and had killed three Frankish men – it is important to be aware that Usāmah was recalling these anecdotes sixty years after they supposedly took place.

…It is because of this need for more defenders that other accounts of female combatants may be considered more reliable. For, even though Muslim writers are our source for the story of a female archer at Acre who, in defending the city, ‘wounded many Muslims before she was overcome and killed’, it is quite possible that in the heat of battle, when manpower was necessary to fight off attackers, this woman was forced to draw a bow. Equally plausible are these same Muslim writers’ astonishment at finding women amongst the dead on the battlefield after a failed Christian attack on Saladin’s camp, though this revelation does not tell us that these women actually fought.

Then there is the case of Christian women who executed the crew of a captured Turkish ship at Acre. According to the Itinerarium Peregrinorum, ‘the women’s physical weakness prolonged the pain of death, because they cut their heads off with knives instead of swords’. Again, although the women were not actually fighting in battle, it is quite possible that this event did occur given that the men had been defeated already and the women were perhaps motivated by thoughts of revenge. As Evans points out, the passage still displays ‘a gendered approach to weaponry’ in that the Muslims’ death at the hands of women is emphasised as ‘humiliating’ and reference made to women’s weakness – implying that the women were acting in an unnatural way.”

- James Michael Illston, ‘An Entirely Masculine Activity’? Women and War in the High and Late Middle Ages Reconsidered

#history #james michael illston #warfare #crusades #high middle ages #late middle ages #medieval

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butterflies-dragons · 4 years

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Sansa - Alayne - Alysanne - Sara - Sansara

A great deal has already been said about how similar Sansa Stark and Good Queen Alysanne Targaryen are. Here some sources:

Sansa Stark and "Good Queen" Alysanne Targaryen parallels

open thread #1: alysansa

Good Queen Alysanne translates to Good Queen D@ny??

Don't you think that Alysanne has more similarities with Arya than Sansa?

Tidbits from Fire and Blood

More tidbits from Fire and Blood

An Idyll where love conquers all

Jaehaerys and Alysanne was a romance unequaled since the days of Florian the Fool and his Jonquil

Doug Wheatley, we need an explanation!

can I copy your homework?

Lord Commander Burley also renamed Snowgate castle in her honor, as Queensgate

is nourishing

What are you doing George?

Jonquil Darke “the Scarlet Shadow” & Joffrey Dogget “the Red Dog of the Hills”

There is a certain irony in people rejecting any Sansa/Alysanne connection

There’s plenty Sansa and Alysanne parallels and some situations may actually repeat themselves

so sansa and good queen alysanne am i the only that sees it?

What are some parallels/similarities between Sansa and Good Queen Alysanne? Are there any?

More Sansa = Alysanne

Queen Alysanne has a knight named Jonquil and meets Lord Commander Lothor at the wall

Sansa & Alysanne portraits

Queen Alysanne and her cousin King Jaehaerys

Queen Alysanne/Sansa Stark parallel

Why is it so significant the parallel between Queen Alysanne and Sansa?

Queens

Now I will give you my contribution on the matter, mostly based on what I found in my recent first re-reading of Fire & Blood.

MERCY

Five of Maegor’s Seven yet survived. Two of those, Ser Olyver Bracken and Ser Raymund Mallery, had played a part in the late king’s fall by turning their cloaks and going over to Jaehaerys, but the boy king observed rightly that in doing so they had broken their vows to defend the king’s life with their own. “I will have no oathbreakers at my court,” he proclaimed. All five Kingsguard were therefore sentenced to death…but at the urging of Princess Alysanne, it was agreed that they might be spared if they would exchange their white cloaks for black by joining the Night’s Watch. Four of the five accepted this clemency and departed for the Wall; along with Ser Olyver and Ser Raymund, the turncloaks, went Ser Jon Tollett and Ser Symond Crayne.

—Fire & Blood

This passage reminds me of Sansa asking mercy for her father Ned and saving Dontos’ life by denying him the mercy of a quick death:

The king! Sansa blinked back her tears. Joffrey was the king now, she thought. Her gallant prince would never hurt her father, no matter what he might have done. If she went to him and pleaded for mercy, she was certain he'd listen. He had to listen, he loved her, even the queen said so. Joff would need to punish Father, the lords would expect it, but perhaps he could send him back to Winterfell, or exile him to one of the Free Cities across the narrow sea. It would only have to be for a few years. By then she and Joffrey would be married. Once she was queen, she could persuade Joff to bring Father back and grant him a pardon.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

"Do you deny your father's crime?" Lord Baelish asked.

"No, my lords." Sansa knew better than that. "I know he must be punished. All I ask is mercy. I know my lord father must regret what he did. He was King Robert's friend and he loved him, you all know he loved him. He never wanted to be Hand until the king asked him. They must have lied to him. Lord Renly or Lord Stannis or … or somebody, they must have lied, otherwise …"

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa V

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."

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

JOFFREY & THE HOUND

In Fire & Blood we meet a character named Ser Joffrey Doggett, also known as the Red Dog of the Hills. He was a knight from House Doggett, a noble house from the westerlands, vassals of House Lannister.

During the reign of Maegor I Targaryen, Ser Joffrey Doggett was a member of the Lannisport chapter of the Warrior's Sons, an order of Westerosi knights sworn to the Faith of the Seven.

Ser Joffrey Doggett’s family was burned by the fires of Balerion:

Then Maegor himself took wing, flying Balerion to the westerlands, where he burned the castles of the Broomes, the Falwells, the Lorches, and the other “pious lords” who had defied his summons. Lastly he descended upon the seat of House Doggett, reducing it to ash. The fires claimed the lives of Ser Joffrey’s father, mother, and young sister, along with their sworn swords, serving men, and chattel.

—Fire & Blood

The day of his coronation, Jaehaerys I Targaryen appointed Ser Joffrey Doggett a member of the Kingsguard:

“I rose against your uncle just as you did,” replied the Red Dog of the Hills, defiant.

“You did,” Jaehaerys allowed, “and you fought bravely, no man can deny. The Warrior’s Sons are no more and your vows to them are at an end, but your service need not be. I have a place for you.” And with these words, the young king shocked the court by offering Ser Joffrey a place by his side as a knight of the Kingsguard. A hush fell then, Grand Maester Benifer tells us, and when the Red Dog drew his longsword there were some who feared he might be about to attack the king with it…but instead the knight went to one knee, bowed his head, and laid his blade at Jaehaerys’s feet. It is said that there were tears upon his cheeks.

—Fire & Blood

Much later, Ser Joffrey Doggett flew with Queen Alysanne on her dragon Silverwing:

Even for a dragon, the flight from King’s Landing to Oldtown is a long one. The king and queen stopped twice along the way, once at Bitterbridge and once at Highgarden, resting overnight and taking counsel with their lords. The lords of the council had insisted that they take some protection at the very least. Ser Joffrey Doggett flew with Alysanne, and the Scarlet Shadow, Jonquil Darke, with Jaehaerys, so as to balance the weight each dragon carried.

—Fire & Blood

So here we have a character from the westernlands, vassal of the Lannisters, named Joffrey but also known as a red dog, whose family was burned by dragonfire and later became a member of the Kingsguard of Jaehaerys and also protected Queen Alysanne. Ser Joffrey Doggett sounds like a combination of Joffrey Lannister and his sworn sword and later Kingsguard Sandor Clegane, the Hound. Both characters closely connected with Sansa Stark.

This is not the first time that GRRM did something like this. In the tale “The Hedge Knight”, part of his book “A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms”, GRRM has surrounded the fair maid of the Ashford Tourney, a girl of 13 years old, with a lot of characters that remind us of Sansa’s suitors and other men somehow interested in her.

And this is not the only time that GRRM did it in Fire & Blood either. Queen Alysanne is surrounded by a lot of characters that remind us of ASOIAF characters that surround Sansa Stark.

APPEARANCE

Before Fire & Blood, GRRM gave us this description of Good Queen Alysanne Targaryen, as an old woman at the end of Jaehaerys I reign:

GOOD QUEEN ALYSANNE

Alysanne was the queen, consort, and sister of King Jaehaerys I, the Old King, and like him she lived a long life. Since you pictured him as an old man at the end of his reign, I figure it would be most appropriate to do her the same way, rather than as the young woman she was when Jaehaerys first ascended the Iron Throne.

You might consider Alysanne as the Eleanor of Aquitaine of Westeros, and model her on Katharine Hepburn's portrayal of Eleanor in the film THE LION IN WINTER. Tall and straight, unbowed by time, she had high cheekbones, clear blue eyes. Age left crow's feet around her eyes and laugh lines about her mouth, but her face never lost its strength. She was a fine archer and hunter in her youth, and loved to fly atop her dragon to all the distant parts of the realm. Alysanne was slim of waist and small of breast, with a long neck, a fair complexion, a high forehead. In old age her hair turned white as snow. She wore it in a bun, pulled back and pinned behind her hear.

Her relationship with King Jaehaerys was always very close. She was his most trusted counselor and his right hand, and often wore a slimmer, more feminine version of his crown at court. Beloved by the common people of Westeros, she loved them in return, and was renowned for her charities.

[Source]

Here is Katharine Hepburn as Eleanor of Aquitaine in the film THE LION IN WINTER:

Katharine Hepburn‘s was 1.72 m.

After Fire & Blood, GRRM gave us this description of Good Queen Alysanne Targaryen, as a girl of 13 years old:

Though she had only recently turned thirteen, the young princess rose to the challenge brilliantly, all agreed. For seven days and seven nights, she broke her fast with one group of highborn ladies, dined with a second, supped with a third. She showed them the wonders of the Red Keep, sailed with them on Blackwater Bay, and rode with them about the city.

Alysanne Targaryen, the youngest child of King Aenys and Queen Alyssa, had been little known amongst the lords and ladies of the realm before then. Her childhood had been spent in the shadow of her brothers and her elder sister, Rhaena, and when she was spoken of at all it was as “the little maid” and “the other daughter.” She was little, this was true; slim and slight of frame, Alysanne was oft described as pretty but seldom as beautiful, though she was born of a house renowned for beauty. Her eyes were blue rather than purple, her hair a mass of honey-colored curls. No man ever questioned her wits.

(...)

“My little flower,” was how the queen described her. Like Alysanne herself, Daella was small—on her toes, she stood five feet two inches—and there was a childish aspect to her that led everyone who met her to think she was younger than her age. Unlike Alysanne, she was delicate as well, in ways the queen had never been.

—Fire & Blood

5.2 feet = 1.58 m.

Queen Alysanne’s “semi canon” description matched with Sansa’s a lot. But, from the “semi canon” source to the canon source (Fire & Blood), Queen Alysanne changed from tall (1.72 m) to small (1.58 m). She kept two features that are very similar to Sansa though:

Not purple eyes but BLUE EYES

Not silver hair but HONEY-COLORED CURLS

And these two features are very close to the main features of House Tully: Blue Eyes and Auburn Hair.

You can google “honey colored hair” and see by yourselves that honey colored is closer to auburn than silver. There are also metas about the matter out there, you can check them out too.

There is not no mention of high cheekbones in Fire & Blood, but the illustrator of the book, Doug Wheatley, definitely gave Queen Alysanne high cheekbones and a very close resemble to Sophie Turner, the actress that played Sansa Stark in the Series:

This could be a coincidence of course. This is what GRRM has said about book illustrations while promoting Fire & Blood:

Q: You have a very distinct idea of what the characters look like in your own head, because readers will always take their own?

GRRM: I do have ideas of what the characters look like in my own head but I’m perfectly willing to let the artist do different interpretations… You know, let different artists present their different interpretations of it, I’m fine with that. It’s not photography, so I love the idea of, you know, letting people use their own creativity within limits of course, but I love some of the works, many of the works I’ve bought original is hanging on, you know, on my own walls so…

In conversation: George R. R. Martin with John Hodgman FULL EVENT

Drawing Queen Alysanne with a close resemble to Sophie Turner was within the limits, it seems.

I’m not saying Queen Alysanne and Sansa are identical twins, they don’t have to be, but they share significant physical features. They have differences as well, Alysanne is slim with small breast while Sansa is curvy with a big bosom.

Queen Alysanne and Sansa also share these traits:

Alysanne was a bright but unremarkable girl; small but never sickly, courteous, biddable, with a sweet smile and a pleasing voice. To the relief of her parents, she displayed none of the timidity that had afflicted her elder sister, Rhaena, as a small child. Neither did she exhibit the willful and stubborn temperament of Rhaena’s daughter Aerea.

—Fire & Blood

This Alysanne’s description matches almost bit by bit these Sansa’s descriptions (including the contrast between Alysanne/Aerea and Sansa/Arya):

It wasn't fair. Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older; maybe by the time Arya had been born, there had been nothing left. Often it felt that way. Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother's fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys. Arya took after their lord father. Her hair was a lusterless brown, and her face was long and solemn. Jeyne used to call her Arya Horseface, and neigh whenever she came near. It hurt that the one thing Arya could do better than her sister was ride a horse. Well, that and manage a household. Sansa had never had much of a head for figures. If she did marry Prince Joff, Arya hoped for his sake that he had a good steward.

—A Game of Thrones - Arya I

"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.

"And Arya, well . . . Ned's visitors would oft mistake her for a stableboy if they rode into the yard unannounced. Arya was a trial, it must be said. Half a boy and half a wolf pup. Forbid her anything and it became her heart's desire. She had Ned's long face, and brown hair that always looked as though a bird had been nesting in it. I despaired of ever making a lady of her. She collected scabs as other girls collect dolls, and would say anything that came into her head. I think she must be dead too." When she said that, it felt as though a giant hand were squeezing her chest.

—A Clash of Kings - Catelyn VII

Tyrion let them have their byplay; it was all for his benefit, he knew. Sansa Stark, he mused. Soft-spoken sweet-smelling Sansa, who loved silks, songs, chivalry and tall gallant knights with handsome faces. He felt as though he was back on the bridge of boats, the deck shifting beneath his feet.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion III

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.

—A Storm of Swords - Arya IV

INTELLIGENCE

Fire & Blood remarks Alysanne’s intelligence a lot, she was an avid reader and she could have been a Maester of the Citadel:

No man ever questioned her wits.

Later, it would be said of her that she learned to read before she was weaned, and the court fool would make japes about little Alysanne dribbling mother’s milk on Valyrian scrolls as she tried to read whilst suckling at her wet nurse’s teat. Had she been a boy she would surely have been sent to the Citadel to forge a maester’s chain, Septon Barth would say of her…for that wise man esteemed her even more than her husband, whom he served for so long. That was far in the future, however; in 49 AC, Alysanne was but a girl of thirteen years, yet all the chronicles agree that she made a powerful impression on those who met her.

(...)

It is written that the young king and queen were seldom apart during that time, sharing every meal, talking late into the night of the green days of their childhood and the challenges ahead, fishing and hawking together, mingling with the island’s smallfolk in dockside inns, reading to one another from dusty leatherbound tomes they found in the castle library, taking lessons together from Dragonstone’s maesters (“for we still have much to learn,” Alysanne is said to have reminded her husband).

(...)

“If I had not become queen, I might have liked to be a maester,” she told the Conclave. “I read, I write, I think, I am not afraid of ravens…or a bit of blood. There are other highborn girls who feel the same. Why not admit them to your Citadel? If they cannot keep up, send them home, the way you send home boys who are not clever enough. If you would give the girls a chance, you might be surprised by how many forge a chain.”

(...)

For three days she lost herself in the Citadel’s great library, emerging only to attend lectures on the Valyrian dragon wars, leechcraft, and the gods of the Summer Isles.

(...)

Once the initial frost had thawed, his lordship took the queen hunting after elk and wild boar in the wolfswood, showed her the bones of a giant, and allowed her to rummage as she pleased through his modest castle library.

—Fire & Blood

Sansa shares Alysanne’s love for reading:

The queen took Sansa's hand in both of hers. "Child, do you know your lettersSansa nodded nervously. She could read and write better than any of her brothers, although she was hopeless at sums.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

Jeyne Poole and all her things were gone when Ser Mandon Moore returned Sansa to the high tower of Maegor's Holdfast. No more weeping, she thought gratefully. Yet somehow it seemed colder with Jeyne gone, even after she'd built a fire. 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.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

“Do you read well, Alayne?"

"Septa Mordane was good enough to say so."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI

Here is Arya listing all of Sansa’s artistic talents:

—A Game of Thrones - Arya I

Arya is also here to tell us that Sansa is good at Heraldry:

No one ransomed the northmen, though. One fat lordling haunted the kitchens, Hot Pie told her, always looking for a morsel. His mustache was so bushy that it covered his mouth, and the clasp that held his cloak was a silver-and-sapphire trident. He belonged to Lord Tywin, but the fierce, bearded young man who liked to walk the battlements alone in a black cloak patterned with white suns had been taken by some hedge knight who meant to get rich off him. Sansa would have known who he was, and the fat one too, but Arya had never taken much interest in titles and sigils. Whenever Septa Mordane had gone on about the history of this house and that house, she was inclined to drift and dream and wonder when the lesson would be done.

—A Clash of Kings - Arya VII

Sansa understands songs sung in High Valyrian:

"I'm sore all over," Arya reported happily, proudly displaying a huge purple bruise on her leg.

"You must be a terrible dancer," Sansa said doubtfully.

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

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard VII

Then the heralds summoned another singer; Collio Quaynis of Tyrosh, who had a vermilion beard and an accent as ludicrous as Symon had promised. Collio began with his version of "The Dance of the Dragons," which was more properly a song for two singers, male and female. Tyrion suffered through it with a double helping of honey-ginger partridge and several cups of wine. A haunting ballad of two dying lovers amidst the Doom of Valyria might have pleased the hall more if Collio had not sung it in High Valyrian, which most of the guests could not speak.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

If the Eyrie had been made like other castles, only rats and gaolers would have heard the dead man singing. Dungeon walls were thick enough to swallow songs and screams alike. But the sky cells had a wall of empty air, so every chord the dead man played flew free to echo off the stony shoulders of the Giant's Lance. And the songs he chose . . . He sang of the Dance of the Dragons, of fair Jonquil and her fool, of Jenny of Oldstones and the Prince of Dragonflies. He sang of betrayals, and murders most foul, of hanged men and bloody vengeance. He sang of grief and sadness.

—A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

But, apparently, Sansa is bad with numbers...

It hurt that the one thing Arya could do better than her sister was ride a horse. Well, that and manage a household. Sansa had never had much of a head for figures. If she did marry Prince Joff, Arya hoped for his sake that he had a good steward.

—A Game of Thrones - Arya I

She could read and write better than any of her brothers, although she was hopeless at sums.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

Something changed then, because Alayne Stone is doing pretty well as de facto Lady of the Eyrie...

I can continue but this would be too long, so it’s better if I leave you this great post about Sansa’s intelligence: Sansa Smart

And here is GRRM himself talking about Sansa’s wits:

Up to now Sansa has been a piece, that other people have moved around the board, to achieve her own goals, using her, discarding her, using her for a different purpose: You know, you’re going to marry Joffrey. No, you’re going to marry Loras. You’re going to marry Tyrion. She is beginning to at least try to understand how she can play the Game of Thrones and be not a piece, but a player. With her own goals, and moving other pieces around. And she’s not a warrior like Robb, Jon Snow. She’s not even a wild child like Arya. She can’t fight with swords, axes. She can’t raise armies. But she has her wits! Same as Littlefinger has.

—Game of Thrones Season 4: Episode #8 - A Different Purpose (HBO)

UNDERDOGS

Queen Alysanne Targaryen and Sansa Stark are two examples of “underdogs”:

No one paid attention to Alysanne until she was a maid of thirteen and was left in charge to entertain and charm lords and ladies at court. She grew up in the shadow of her older siblings, she was never expected to be Queen:

(...)

We know very little about the childhood of Alysanne Targaryen; as the fifthborn child of King Aenys and Queen Alyssa, and a female, observers at court found her of less interest than her older siblings who stood higher in the line of succession. From what little has come down to us, Alysanne was a bright but unremarkable girl; small but never sickly, courteous, biddable, with a sweet smile and a pleasing voice. To the relief of her parents, she displayed none of the timidity that had afflicted her elder sister, Rhaena, as a small child. Neither did she exhibit the willful and stubborn temperament of Rhaena’s daughter Aerea.

—Fire & Blood

The same way as Alysanne was described as “unremarkable”, Sansa Stark is often described as “stupid”:

That gorget wasn't fastened proper. You think Gregor didn't notice that? You think Ser Gregor's lance rode up by chance, do you? Pretty little talking girl, you believe that, you're empty-headed as a bird for true.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

"Your Grace," he said sharply. "You truly are a stupid girl, aren't you? My mother says so."

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

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

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

"Everyone wants to be loved." "I see flowering hasn't made you any brighter," said Cersei.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV

"He will," Sansa lied. "He is very . . . very comely."

"You said that. You know, child, some say that you are as big a fool as Butterbumps here, and I am starting to believe them.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

"Her heart was broken."

Sansa would have sighed and shed a tear for true love, but Arya just thought it was stupid. She couldn't say that to Ned, though, not about his own aunt. "Did someone break it?"

—A Storm of Swords - Arya VIII

"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."

That's stupid, Arya thought. Sansa only knows songs, not spells, and she'd never marry the Imp.

—A Storm of Swords - Arya XIII

"NO!" Lysa gave Sansa's head another wrench. Snow eddied around them, making their skirts snap noisily. "You can't want her. You can't. She's a stupid empty-headed little girl.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

"Some books. I like the fighting stories. My sister Sansa likes the kissing stories, but those are stupid."

—A Dance with Dragons - Bran III

Sansa as Alysanne was not “remarkable” among her siblings, who often called her stupid, specially Bran and Arya, and was never expected to be the Heir of Winterfell or the Stark at Winterfell. She is the underdog...

... And GRRM just loves underdogs:

Chris Long: Do you watch sports through that lens (characters developed all the time, unsung heroes/archnemesis of everybody/misunderstood as villains/some heroes are villains in disguise), with your writing background, and your penchant for creating characters, do you look at the characters in sports?

GRRM: I do. You know, I think America loves the underdog, and we don’t like, except if it happens to be your dynasty, we tend not to like dynasties, you know?

—George RR Martin in The Fish Bowl with Chris Long

WEDDED BUT NOT BEDDED

Alysanne and Sansa flowered and wedded at a similar age. But both remained maidens:

The princess was three-and-ten years of age, and had recently celebrated her first flowering, so it was thought desirable to see her wed as soon as possible.

(...)

A modest feast followed the ceremony, and many toasts were drunk to the health of the boy king and his new queen. Afterward Jaehaerys and Alysanne retired to the bedchamber where Aegon the Conqueror had once slept beside his sister Rhaenys, but in view of the bride’s youth there was no bedding ceremony, and the marriage was not consummated.

—Fire & Blood

“How old are you, Sansa?” asked Tyrion, after a moment.

“Thirteen,” she said, “when the moon turns.”

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

“She is old enough to be Lady of Winterfell once her brother is dead. Claim her maidenhood and you will be one step closer to claiming the north. Get her with child, and the prize is all but won. Do I need to remind you that a marriage that has not been consummated can be set aside?”

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IV

Also Alysanne’s determination to marry his King brother Jaehaerys against her own mother's wishes, sounds pretty much like Sansa's stubbornness to marry Joffrey against Ned's orders.

Sansa, in an act of defiance, ran to Cersei and tells her of her father's plans, pleading that she might be allowed to stay and marry Joffrey.

"How well I know that, child," Cersei said, her voice so kind and sweet. "Why else should you have come to me and told me of your father's plan to send you away from us, if not for love?"

"It was for love," Sansa said in a rush. "Father wouldn't even give me leave to say farewell." She was the good girl, the obedient girl, but she had felt as wicked as Arya that morning, sneaking away from Septa Mordane, defying her lord father. She had never done anything so willful before, and she would never have done it then if she hadn't loved Joffrey as much as she did. "He was going to take me back to Winterfell and marry me to some hedge knight, even though it was Joff I wanted. I told him, but he wouldn't listen." The king had been her last hope. The king could command Father to let her stay in King's Landing and marry Prince Joffrey, Sansa knew he could, but the king had always frightened her. He was loud and rough-voiced and drunk as often as not, and he would probably have just sent her back to Lord Eddard, if they even let her see him. So she went to the queen instead, and poured out her heart, and Cersei had listened and thanked her sweetly … only then Ser Arys had escorted her to the high room in Maegor's Holdfast and posted guards, and a few hours later, the fighting had begun outside. "Please," she finished, "you have to let me marry Joffrey, I'll be ever so good a wife to him, you'll see. I'll be a queen just like you, I promise."

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

Alysanne ran to Jaehaerys himself and they both elope to Dragonstone:

No record survives of what Alysanne Targaryen said or thought when first she learned that she was to be wed to a youth ten years her senior, whom she scarcely knew and (if rumor can be believed) did not like. We know only what she did. Another girl might have wept or raged or run pleading to her mother. In many a sad song, maidens forced to wed against their will throw themselves from tall towers to their deaths. Princess Alysanne did none of these things. Instead she went directly to Jaehaerys.

The young king was as displeased as his sister at the news. “They will be making wedding plans for me as well, I do not doubt,” he deduced at once. Like his sister, Jaehaerys did not waste time with reproaches, recriminations, or appeals. Instead he acted. Summoning his Kingsguard, he instructed them to sail at once for Dragonstone, where he would meet them shortly. “You have sworn me your swords and your obedience,” he reminded his Seven. “Remember those vows, and speak no word of my departure.”

That night, under cover of darkness, King Jaehaerys and Princess Alysanne mounted their dragons, Vermithor and Silverwing, and departed the Red Keep for the ancient Targaryen citadel below the Dragonmont. Reportedly the first words the young king spoke upon landing were, “I have need of a septon.”

—Fire & Blood

Curiously enough Alysanne’s first betrothed was Orryn Baratheon, just like Sansa’s first betrothed was Joffrey Baratheon.

LIKE IN THE SONGS

Alysanne and Jaehaerys eloping and first wedding had all the element’s of a fairy tale, like the songs Sansa loves to read:

The Kingsguards as witnesses

The Kingsguard arrived from King’s Landing by galley a few days later. The following morning, as the sun rose, Jaehaerys Targaryen, the First of His Name, took to wife his sister Alysanne in the great yard at Dragonstone, before the eyes of gods and men and dragons. Septon Oswyck performed the marriage rites; though the old man’s voice was thin and tremulous, no part of the ceremony was neglected. The seven knights of the Kingsguard stood witness to the union, their white cloaks snapping in the wind.

—Fire & Blood

The Kingsguards fighting against the men that tried to separate the couple

From that day to this, the tale has been a favorite of lovesick maidens and their squires throughout the Seven Kingdoms, and many a bard has sung of the valor of the Kingsguard, seven men in white cloaks who faced down half a hundred.

—Fire & Blood

This eloping, secret wedding and the Kingsguars involvement reminds me a lot of Lyanna’s “abduction” by Rhaegar and the Kingsguards “protecting” Lyanna in the Tower of Joy...

A romance unequaled since the days of Florian and Jonquil

“That is how the singers tell the tale, certainly; the swift and sudden marriage of Jaehaerys and Alysanne was a romance unequaled since the days of Florian the Fool and his Jonquil, to hear them sing of it. And in songs, as ever, love conquers all. ”

—Fire & Blood

Florian and Jonquil love story is Sansa’s favorite.

We are one now, and neither gods nor men shall part us

“As you command, Mother.” King Jaehaerys pulled his sister closer and put his arm around her. “But do not think that you shall unmake this marriage. We are one now, and neither gods nor men shall part us.” “Never,” his bride affirmed. “Send me to the ends of the earth and wed me to the King of Mossovy or the Lord of the Grey Waste, Silverwing will always bring me back to Jaehaerys.” And with that she raised herself onto her toes and lifted her face to the king, and he kissed her full upon the lips whilst all looked on.”

—Fire & Blood

An endless honeymoon

“It is written that the young king and queen were seldom apart during that time, sharing every meal, talking late into the night of the green days of their childhood and the challenges ahead, fishing and hawking together, mingling with the island’s smallfolk in dockside inns, reading to one another from dusty leatherbound tomes they found in the castle library, taking lessons together from Dragonstone’s maesters (“for we still have much to learn,” Alysanne is said to have reminded her husband), praying beside Septon Oswyck. They flew together as well, all around the Dragonmont and oft as far as Driftmark.”

—Fire & Blood

A maid observing her love while training

Every morning Jaehaerys trained with them in the castle yard, shouting at them to come at him harder, to press him, harry him, and attack him in every way they knew. From sunrise till noon he worked with them, honing his skills with sword and spear and mace and axe whilst his new queen looked on.”

(…)

“Jaehaerys was oft brusied and bloody by evening, to Alysanne’s distress, but his prowess improved so markedly”

—Fire & Blood

Jaehaerys training with more than one man at the same time reminds me of Garlan Tyrell and Jon Snow because they do the same:

On the edge of the yard, a lone knight with a pair of golden roses on his shield was holding off three foes. Even as they watched, he caught one of them alongside the head, knocking him senseless. "Is that your brother?" Sansa asked.

"It is, my lady," said Ser Loras. "Garlan often trains against three men, or even four. In battle it is seldom one against one, he says, so he likes to be prepared."

"He must be very brave."

"He is a great knight," Ser Loras replied. "A better sword than me, in truth, though I'm the better lance."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

Jon swelled with pride. "Robb is a stronger lance than I am, but I'm the better sword, and Hullen says I sit a horse as well as anyone in the castle."

—A Game of Thrones - Jon I

“When Iron Emmett spied him, he raised a hand and combat ceased. “Lord Commander. How may we serve you?”

“With your three best.”

Emmett grinned. “Arron. Emrick. Jace.” . . .

“Which one do you want first?” asked Arron.

“All three of you. At once.”

“Three on one?” Jace was incredulous. “That wouldn’t be fair.” He was one of Conwy’s latest bunch, a cobbler’s son from Fair Isle. Maybe that explained it.

“True. Come here.”

When he did, Jon’s blade slammed him alongside his head, knocking him off his feet. In the blink of an eye the boy had a boot on his chest and a swordpoint at his throat. “War is never fair,” Jon told him. “It’s two on one now, and you’re dead.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VI

An Idyll

“Queen Alysanne, for her part, was in no haste to return to court. “Here I have you to myself, day and night,” she told Jaehaerys. “When we go back, I shall be fortunate to snatch an hour with you, for every man in Westeros will want a piece of you.” For her, these days on Dragonstone were an idyll. “Many years from now when we are old and grey, we shall look back upon these days and smile, remembering how happy we were.”

—Fire & Blood

Sansa Stark is sighing somewhere...

QUEENS

I found this very interesting detail in Fire & Blood: The Three Queens

In 50 AC, the realm of Westeros found itself blessed with one king, a Hand, and three queens, as in King Maegor’s day…but whereas Maegor’s queens had been consorts, subservient to his will, living and dying at his whim, each of the queens of the half-century was a power in her own right.

In the Red Keep of King’s Landing sat the Queen Regent Alyssa, widow of the late King Aenys, mother to his son Jaehaerys, and wife to the King’s Hand, Rogar Baratheon. Just across Blackwater Bay on Dragonstone, a younger queen had arisen when Alyssa’s daughter Alysanne, a maid of thirteen years, had pledged her troth to her brother King Jaehaerys, against the wishes of her mother and her mother’s lord husband. And far to the west on Fair Isle, with the whole width of Westeros separating her from both mother and sister, was Alyssa’s eldest daughter, the dragonrider Rhaena Targaryen, widow of Prince Aegon the Uncrowned. In the westerlands, riverlands, and parts of the Reach, men were already calling her the Queen in the West.

—Fire & Blood

This passage obviously makes me think in The Three Queens mentioned by Littlefinger in a conversation with Sansa in A Feast for Crows:

“You would not believe half of what is happening in King’s Landing, sweetling. Cersei stumbles from one idiocy to the next, helped along by her council of the deaf, the dim, and the blind. I always anticipated that she would beggar the realm and destroy herself, but I never expected she would do it quite so fast. It is quite vexing. I had hoped to have four or five quiet years to plant some seeds and allow some fruits to ripen, but now … it is a good thing that I thrive on chaos. What little peace and order the five kings left us will not long survive the three queens, I fear.”

“Three queens?” She did not understand.

Nor did Petyr choose to explain. Instead, he smiled and said, “I have brought my sweet girl back a gift.”

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

Thanks to this passage of Fire & Blood about The Three Queens:

Queen Alyssa, Queen Regent, widow of Aenys

Queen Alysanne, Queen Consort, wife of Jaehaerys (but still a maid)

Queen Rhaena, widow of Prince Aegon the Uncrowned (& Maegor)

We can make the following association with these three ASOIAF characters in a similar position:

Alyssa/Cersei = Regents & Widows

Alysanne/Sansa = Wedded but No Bedded

Rhaena/Margaery = Twice Widows of Aegon/Maegor & Renly/Joffrey

But Fire & Blood has a little surprise in a footnote:

Footnote:

*1.- It should be noted, lest we be charged with omission, that there was a fourth queen in Westeros in 50 AC. The twice-widowed Queen Elinor of House Costayne, who had found King Maegor dead upon the Iron Throne, had departed King’s Landing after Jaehaerys’s ascent. Dressed in the robes of a penitent and accompanied only by a handmaid and one leal man-at-arms, she made her way to the Eyrie in the Vale of Arryn to visit the eldest of her three sons by Ser Theo Bolling, and thence to Highgarden in the Reach, where her second son had been fostered to Lord Tyrell. Once satisfied of their well-being, the former queen reclaimed her youngest boy and repaired to her father’s seat at Three Towers in the Reach, where she declared she would live quietly for the remainder of her life. Fate, and King Jaehaerys, had other plans for her, as we shall relate later. Suffice it to say that Queen Elinor played no role in the events of 50 AC.

—Fire & Blood

The fourth queen was Elinor Costayne, widow, mother of three living sons and one stillborn of Maegor.

So we can make this final association:

Alyssa/Cersei = Regents & Widows

Alysanne/Sansa = Wedded but Not Bedded

Rhaena/Margaery = Twice Widows of Aegon/Maegor & Renly/Joffrey

Elinor/Daenerys = Widows, Mothers of three living sons: 3 Bolling sons/Drogo-Rhaegal-Viseryon & one twisted and malformed stillborn (unnamed/Rhaego)

Take note how Alysanne is described as “a younger queen” and “maid of thirteen”, because this could be a hint that Sansa Stark is the younger and more beautiful queen of Maggy The Frog prophecy.

FLORIAN & JONQUIL

Sansa Stark’s favorite love story is the Tale of Florian and Jonquil, and Alysanne Targaryen is heavily associate with that story as well.

As mentioned earlier, Alysanne’s own love story is compared to Florian and Jonquil:

—Fire & Blood

The Maidenpool incident

Alysanne suffered an attempt of murder perpetuated by three women at Maidenpool:

The town of Maidenpool was far famed for the sweetwater pool where legend had it that Florian the Fool had first glimpsed Jonquil bathing during the Age of Heroes. Like thousands of other women before her, Queen Alysanne wished to bathe in Jonquil’s pool, whose waters were said to have amazing healing properties. The lords of Maidenpool had erected a great stone bathhouse around the pool many centuries before, and given it over to an order of holy sisters. No men were allowed to enter the premises, so when the queen slipped into the sacred waters, she was attended only by her ladies-in-waiting, maids, and septas (Edyth and Lyra, who had served beside Septa Ysabel as novices, had both recently sworn their vows to become septas, consecrated in the Faith and devoted to the queen).

The goodness of the little queen, the silence of the Starry Sept, and the exhortations of the Seven Speakers had won over most of the Faithful for Jaehaerys and his Alysanne…but there are always some who will not be moved, and amongst the sisters who tended Jonquil’s Pool were three such women, whose hearts were hard with hate. They told one another that their holy waters would be polluted forever were the queen allowed to bathe in them whilst carrying the king’s “abomination” in her belly. Queen Alysanne had only slipped out of her clothing when they fell upon her with daggers they had concealed within their robes.

Blessedly, the attackers were no warriors, and they had not taken the courage of the queen’s companions into account. Naked and vulnerable, the Wise Women did not hesitate, but stepped between the attackers and their lady. Septa Edyth was slashed across the face, Prudence Celtigar stabbed through the shoulder, whilst Rosamund Ball took a dagger in the belly that, three days later, proved to be the death of her, but none of the murderous blades touched the queen. The shouts and screams of the struggle brought Alysanne’s protectors running, for Ser Joffrey Doggett and Ser Gyles Morrigen had been guarding the entrance to the bathhouse, never dreaming that the danger lurked within.

The Kingsguard made short work of the attackers, slaying two out of hand whilst keeping the third alive for questioning. When encouraged, she revealed that half a dozen others of their order had helped plan the attack, whilst lacking the courage to wield a blade. Lord Mooton hanged the guilty, and might have hanged the innocent as well, save for Queen Alysanne’s intervention.

—Fire & Blood

I find this incident a metaphor of that famous Littlefinger line: "Life is not a song, sweetling. You may learn that one day to your sorrow." Maidenpool was a place where a great love story occurred but for Alysanne was also the place where other women tried to murder her. She was pregnant of her first child during the attack and later she gave birth a premature baby, Aegon. He died three days after birth. Alysanne blamed her son’s death on the women who attacked her at Maidenpool. Had she been allowed to bathe in the healing waters of Jonquil’s Pool, she would say, Prince Aegon would have lived.

The same ‘disillusionment’ happened when Jaime and Brienne arrived at Maidenpool in ASOIAF and found the pool full of corpses:

At Maidenpool, Lord Mooton's red salmon still flew above the castle on its hill, but the town walls were deserted, the gates smashed, half the homes and shops burned or plundered. They saw nothing living but a few feral dogs that went slinking away at the sound of their approach. The pool from which the town took its name, where legend said that Florian the Fool had first glimpsed Jonquil bathing with her sisters, was so choked with rotting corpses that the water had turned into a murky grey-green soup.

Jaime took one look and burst into song. "Six maids there were in a spring-fed pool . . ."

—A Storm of Swords - Jaime III

But this awful incident was the cause for Alysanne to take a female knight to protect her. A knight with a very singular name: Jonquil Darke.

FEMALE KNIGHT

Jonquil Darke

With hundreds of knights eager to compete for the honor of serving in the Kingsguard, the combats lasted seven full days. Several of the more colorful competitors became favorites of the smallfolk, who cheered them raucously each time they fought. One such was the Drunken Knight, Ser Willam Stafford, a short, stout, big-bellied man who always appeared so intoxicated that it was a wonder he could stand, let alone fight. The commons named him “the Keg o’ Ale,” and sang “Hail, Hail, Keg o’ Ale” whenever he took the field. Another favorite of the commons was the Bard of Flea Bottom, Tom the Strummer, who mocked his foes with ribald songs before each bout. The slender mystery knight known only as the Serpent in Scarlet also had a great following; when finally defeated and unmasked, “he” proved to be a woman, Jonquil Darke, a bastard daughter of the Lord of Duskendale.

In the end, none of these would earn a white cloak.

—Fire & Blood

Jonquil reminds me a lot of Brienne of Tarth, the True Knight of ASOIAF. Both female knights that competed for a place in the Kingsguard. Jonquil didn’t make it, but Brienne got a place in Renly’s Rainbow Guard.

After the Maidenpool incident, Alysanne chose Jonquil Darke to be her sworn shield:

“I need a protector of mine own,” she told His Grace. “Your Seven are leal men and valiant, but they are men, and there are places men cannot go.” The king could not disagree. A raven flew to Duskendale that very night, commanding the new Lord Darklyn to send to court his bastard half-sister, Jonquil Darke, who had thrilled the smallfolk during the War for the White Cloaks as the mystery knight known as the Serpent in Scarlet. Still in scarlet, she arrived at King’s Landing a few days later, and gladly accepted appointment as the queen’s own sworn shield. In time, she would be known about the realm as the Scarlet Shadow, so closely did she guard her lady.

—Fire & Blood

At this point in ASOIAF, Briene of Tarth is in a quest to find Sansa Stark to fulfill the promises that Jaime Lannister and her did to Catelyn Stark:

“Hear me out, Brienne. Both of us swore oaths concerning Sansa Stark. Cersei means to see that the girl is found and killed, wherever she has gone to ground . . .”

Brienne’s homely face twisted in fury. “If you believe that I would harm my lady’s daughter for a sword, you—”

“Just listen,” he snapped, angered by her assumption. “I want you to find Sansa first, and get her somewhere safe. How else are the two of us going to make good our stupid vows to your precious dead Lady Catelyn?”

The wench blinked. “I . . . I thought . . .”

“I know what you thought.” Suddenly Jaime was sick of the sight of her. She bleats like a bloody sheep. “When Ned Stark died, his greatsword was given to the King’s Justice,” he told her. “But my father felt that such a fine blade was wasted on a mere headsman. He gave Ser Ilyn a new sword, and had Ice melted down and reforged. There was enough metal for two new blades. You’re holding one. So you’ll be defending Ned Stark’s daughter with Ned Stark’s own steel, if that makes any difference to you.”

“Ser, I . . . I owe you an apolo . . .”

He cut her off. “Take the bloody sword and go, before I change my mind. There’s a bay mare in the stables, as homely as you are but somewhat better trained. Chase after Steelshanks, search for Sansa, or ride home to your isle of sapphires, it’s naught to me. I don’t want to look at you anymore.”

“Jaime . . .”

“Kingslayer,” he reminded her. “Best use that sword to clean the wax out of your ears, wench. We’re done.”

Stubbornly, she persisted. “Joffrey was your . . .”

“My king. Leave it at that.”

“You say Sansa killed him. Why protect her?”

Because Joff was no more to me than a squirt of seed in Cersei’s cunt. And because he deserved to die. “I have made kings and unmade them. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honor.” Jaime smiled thinly. “Besides, kingslayers should band together. Are you ever going to go?”

Her big hand wrapped tight around Oathkeeper. “I will. And I will find the girl and keep her safe. For her lady mother’s sake. And for yours.” She bowed stiffly, whirled, and went.

—A Storm of Swords - Jaime IX

See? Jonquil Darke was Alysanne’s sworn shield as Brienne of Tarh is Sansa’s sworn sword. A sword made of Ice, literally.

Later, when Alysanne visited the North for the first time, she met another “female knight”, a wildling girl:

Manderly also staged a small tourney in the queen’s honor, to show the prowess of his knights. One of the fighters (though no knight) was revealed to be a woman, a wildling girl who had been captured by rangers north of the Wall and given to one of Lord Manderly’s household knights to foster. Delighted by the girl’s daring, Alysanne summoned her own sworn shield, Jonquil Darke, and the wildling and the Scarlet Shadow dueled spear against sword whilst the northmen roared in approval.

—Fire & Blood

It would be no surprise if Sansa meets another female knight or warrior during her return to the North, a wildling spearwife, or a Mormont woman, or her wild faceless assassin sister Arya Stark.

To finish with Jonquil Darke, take note that her name and surname are also references to Dontos Hollard, another character that acted as Sansa’s knight. Sansa called Dontos “Her Florian” and House Hollard was once sworn to House Darklyn of Duskendale, that are related to House Darke.

Also take a look at this color refrences:

Jonquil Darke was also known as the Serpent in Scarlet and the Scarlet Shadow.

Ser Joffrey Doggett was also known as the Red Dog of the Hills.

Ser Dontos Hollard was also called Dontos the Red.

Only Brienne of Tarth breaks this pattern, because she was called Brienne the Blue, during his days as member of Renly’s Rainbow Guard. Wanna know who was the Red in Renly’s Rainbow Guard? It was Ser Robar Royce, son of Yhon Bronze Royce and brother of Waymar Royce, Sansa’s first crush.

But my point with all this Red/Scarlet colored references is that red is a color hugely associated with Sansa Stark, because of the red of her hair and the red of the weirwood tree.

THE VISENYA AND THE RHAENYS

During a discussion between King Jaehaerys I and his older sister Rhaena, these words were exchanged:

“And Silverwing?” asked Rhaena. “Our sister—”

“—had no part in this. I will not put her at risk.”

The Queen in the East smiled then. “She is Rhaenys, and I am Visenya. I have never thought otherwise.”

—Fire & Blood

Rhaena compared Jaehaerys with Aegon the Conqueror, herself with Queen Visenya and Alysanne with Queen Rhaenys.

This is part of a dichotomy that GRRM work with a lot: the Lady Woman Vs the Warrior Woman. A pattern that started with the Stark Sisters, and is replicated a lot in Fire & Blood with several Targaryen Sisters. Here some examples:

Visenya and Rhaenys

Rhaena and Alysanne

Aerea and Rhaella

Baela and Rhaena

Rhaena was not exactly like Visenya and Alysanne was not exactly Rhaenys, but Rhaenys and Alysanne certainly shared a lot of similarities:

Rhaenys

Rhaenys, youngest of the three Targaryens, was all her sister [Visenya] was not, playful, curious, impulsive, given to flights of fancy. No true warrior, Rhaenys loved music, dancing, and poetry, and supported many a singer, mummer, and puppeteer. Yet it was said that Rhaenys spent more time on dragonback than her brother and sister combined, for above all things she loved to fly. She once was heard to say that before she died she meant to fly Meraxes across the Sunset Sea to see what lay upon its western shores.”

(...)

Queen Rhaenys was a great patron to the bards and singers of the Seven Kingdoms, showering gold and gifts on those who pleased her. Though Queen Visenya thought her sister frivolous, there was a wisdom in this that went beyond a simple love of music. For the singers of the realm, in their eagerness to win the favor of the queen, composed many a song in praise of House Targaryen and King Aegon, and then went forth and sang those songs in every keep and castle and village green from the Dornish Marches to the Wall. Thus was the Conquest made glorious to the simple people, whilst Aegon the Dragon himself became a hero king.

Queen Rhaenys also took a great interest in the smallfolk, and had a special love for women and children. Once, when she was holding court in the Aegonfort, a man was brought before her for beating his wife to death. The woman’s brothers wanted him punished, but the husband argued that he was within his lawful rights, since he had found his wife abed with another man. The right of a husband to chastise an erring wife was well established throughout the Seven Kingdoms (save in Dorne). The husband further pointed out that the rod he had used to beat his wife was no thicker than his thumb, and even produced the rod in evidence. When the queen asked him how many times he had struck his wife, however, the husband could not answer, but the dead woman’s brothers insisted there had been a hundred blows.

Queen Rhaenys consulted with her maesters and septons, then rendered her decision. An adulterous wife gave offense to the Seven, who had created women to be faithful and obedient to their husbands, and therefore must be chastised. As god has but seven faces, however, the punishment should consist of only six blows (for the seventh blow would be for the Stranger, and the Stranger is the face of death). Thus the first six blows the man had struck had been lawful…but the remaining ninety-four had been an offense against gods and men, and must be punished in kind. From that day forth, the “rule of six” became a part of the common law, along with the “rule of thumb.” (The husband was taken to the foot of the Hill of Rhaenys, where he was given ninety-four blows by the dead woman’s brothers, using rods of lawful size.)

—Fire & Blood

Alysanne

Queen Alysanne looked back on the short-lived glories of her father’s court fondly, however, and made it her purpose to make the Red Keep glitter as it never had before, buying tapestries and carpets from Free Cities and commissioning murals, statuary, and tilework to decorate the castle’s halls and chambers. At her command, men from the City Watch combed Flea Bottom until they found Tom the Strummer, whose mocking songs had amused king and commons alike during the War for the White Cloaks. Alysanne made him the court singer, the first of many who would hold that office in the decades to come. She brought in a harpist from Oldtown, a company of mummers from Braavos, dancers from Lys, and gave the Red Keep its first fool, a fat man called the Goodwife who dressed as a woman and was never seen without his wooden “children,” a pair of cleverly carved puppets who said ribald, shocking things.

(...)

The king’s first progress was meant to be a modest one, commencing with the crownlands north of King’s Landing and proceeding only as far as the Vale of Arryn. Jaehaerys wanted Alysanne with him, but as Her Grace was with child, he was concerned that their journeys not be too taxing. They began with Stokeworth and Rosby, then moved north along the coast to Duskendale. There, whilst the king viewed Lord Darklyn’s boatyards and enjoyed an afternoon of fishing, the queen held the first of her women’s courts, which were to become an important part of every royal progress to come. Only women and girls were welcome at these audiences; highborn or low, they were encouraged to come forward and share their fears, concerns, and hopes with the young queen.

(...)

Men oft speak today of Queen Alysanne’s laws, but this usage is sloppy and incorrect. Her Grace had no power to enact laws, issue decrees, make proclamations, or pass sentences. It is a mistake to speak of her as we might speak of the Conqueror’s queens, Rhaenys and Visenya. The young queen did, however, wield enormous influence over King Jaehaerys, and when she spoke, he listened…as he did upon their return from the Vale of Arryn.

It was the plight of widows throughout the Seven Kingdoms that the women’s courts had made Alysanne aware of. In times of peace especially, it was not uncommon for a man to outlive the wife of his youth, for young men most oft perish upon the battlefield, young women in the birthing bed. Be they of noble birth or humble, men left bereft suchwise would oft after a time take second wives, whose presence in the household was resented by the children of the first wife. Where no bonds of affection existed, upon the man’s own death his heirs could and did expel the widow from the home, reducing her to penury; in the case of lords, the heirs might simply strip away the widow’s prerogatives, incomes, and servants, reducing her to little more than a boarder.

To rectify these ills, King Jaehaerys in 52 AC promulgated the Widow’s Law, reaffirming the right of the eldest son (or eldest daughter, where there was no son) to inherit, but requiring said heirs to maintain surviving widows in the same condition they had enjoyed before their husband’s death. A lord’s widow, be she a second, third, or later wife, could no longer be driven from his castle, nor deprived of her servants, clothing, and income. The same law, however, also forbade men from disinheriting their children by a first wife in order to bestow their lands, seat, or property upon a later wife or her own children.

(...)

Alysanne remained in the Red Keep, presiding over council meetings in the king’s absence, and holding audience from a velvet seat at the base of the Iron Throne.

(...)

“I see no honor in any of this. I knew such things happened hundreds of years ago, I confess it, but I never dreamed that the custom endured so strongly to this day. Mayhaps I did not want to know. I closed my eyes, but that poor girl in Mole’s Town opened them. The right of the first night! Your Grace, my lords, it is time we put an end to this. I beg you.”

(...)

And so it came to pass that the second of what the smallfolk named Queen Alysanne’s Laws was enacted: the abolition of the lord’s ancient right to the first night. Henceforth, it was decreed, a bride’s maidenhead would belong only to her husband, whether joined before a septon or a heart tree, and any man, be he lord or peasant, who took her on her wedding night or any other night would be guilty of the crime of rape.

—Fire & Blood

As you can see, we can easily associate Sansa Stark with these shared similarities between Queen Rhaenys and Queen Alysanne.

SINGERS AND KNIGHTS

Queen Alysanne was fond of singers and gallant knights, just like Sansa:

Three of the brothers had been singers before taking the black, and they took turns playing for Her Grace at night, regaling her with ballads, war songs, and bawdy barracks tunes.

—Fire & Blood

Ser Simon Dondarrion

Though his castle was small and modest compared to the great halls of the realm, Lord Dondarrion was a splendid host and his son Simon played the high harp as well as he jousted, and entertained the royal couple by night with sad songs of star-crossed lovers and the fall of kings. So taken with him was the queen that the party lingered longer at Blackhaven than they had intended.

(...)

But the champion’s laurels went to the gallant and handsome Ser Simon Dondarrion of Blackhaven, who won the love of the commons and queen alike when he crowned Princess Daenerys as his queen of love and beauty.

—Fire & Blood

A young and handsome noble man that played the high harp as well as he jousted sounds like Sansa Stark’s ideal man.

Also, the name Simon and the surname Dondarrion are very subtle references of Jon Snow, an idea that I’m developing in an unfinished meta.

Ser Ryam Redwyne

Queen Alysanne knew in person to the famous knight Ser Ryam Redwyne:

It was a time for celebration and celebrate they did, with a tourney at King’s Landing on the anniversary of the king’s coronation. Princess Daenerys and the Princes Aemon and Baelon shared the royal box with their mother and father, and reveled in the cheers of the crowd. On the field, the highlight of the competition was the brilliance of Ser Ryam Redwyne, the youngest son of Lord Manfryd Redwyne of the Arbor, Jaehaerys’s lord admiral and master of ships. In successive tilts, Ser Ryam unhorsed Ronnal Baratheon, Arthor Oakheart, Simon Dondarrion, Harys Hogg (Harry the Ham, to the commons), and two Kingsguard knights, Lorence Roxton and Lucamore Strong. When the young gallant trotted up to the royal box and crowned Good Queen Alysanne as his queen of love and beauty, the commons roared their approval.

—Fire & Blood

Later, Ser Ryam Redwyne served as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard under Jaehaerys I Targaryen and Viserys I Targaryen.

In Sansa’s case, while having a nightmare of the riot of King's Landing, Sansa wished to be saved by Ser Ryam Redwyne Florian the Fool, or Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, but none appear:

That night Sansa dreamed of the riot again. The mob surged around her, shrieking, a maddened beast with a thousand faces. Everywhere she turned she saw faces twisted into monstrous inhuman masks. She wept and told them she had never done them hurt, yet they dragged her from her horse all the same. "No," she cried, "no, please, don't, don't," but no one paid her any heed. She shouted for Ser Dontos, for her brothers, for her dead father and her dead wolf, for gallant Ser Loras who had given her a red rose once, but none of them came. She called for the heroes from the songs, for Florian and Ser Ryam Redwyne and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, but no one heard. Women swarmed over her like weasels, pinching her legs and kicking her in the belly, and someone hit her in the face and she felt her teeth shatter. Then she saw the bright glimmer of steel. The knife plunged into her belly and tore and tore and tore, until there was nothing left of her down there but shiny wet ribbons.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV

The only man that effectively, but unbeknownst for her, had fulfilled Sansa’s wishes for a hero, was Jon Snow:

Frog-faced Lord Slynt sat at the end of the council table wearing a black velvet doublet and a shiny cloth-of-gold cape, nodding with approval every time the king pronounced a sentence. Sansa stared hard at his ugly face, remembering how he had thrown down her father for Ser Ilyn to behead, wishing she could hurt him, wishing that some hero would throw him down and cut off his head. But a voice inside her whispered, There are no heroes, and she remembered what Lord Petyr had said to her, here in this very hall. “Life is not a song, sweetling,” he’d told her. “You may learn that one day to your sorrow.” In life, the monsters win, she told herself, and now it was the Hound’s voice she heard, a cold rasp, metal on stone. “Save yourself some pain, girl, and give him what he wants.”

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

“You are refusing to obey my order?” “You can stick your order up your bastard’s arse,” said Slynt, his jowls quivering. […] “As you will.” Jon nodded to Iron Emmett. “Please take Lord Janos to the Wall—” […] “—and hang him,” Jon finished. […] This is wrong, Jon thought. “Stop.” […] “I will not hang him,” said Jon. “Bring him here.” “Oh, Seven save us,” he heard Bowen Marsh cry out. The smile that Lord Janos Slynt smiled then had all the sweetness of rancid butter. Until Jon said, “Edd, fetch me a block,” and unsheathed Longclaw. […] The pale morning sunlight ran up and down his blade as Jon clasped the hilt of the bastard sword with both hands and raised it high. “If you have any last words, now is the time to speak them,” he said, expecting one last curse. Janos Slynt twisted his neck around to stare up at him. “Please, my lord. Mercy. I’ll … I’ll go, I will, I …” No, thought Jon. You closed that door. Longclaw descended. “Can I have his boots?” asked Owen the Oaf, as Janos Slynt’s head went rolling across the muddy ground. “They’re almost new, those boots. Lined with fur.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon II

WATER AND BREAD FOR THE SMALLFOLK

Alysanne procured clean water for the people of Kingslanding:

Queen Alysanne served each of them a tankard of river water at the next council meeting, and dared them to drink of it. The water went undrunk, but the wells and pipes were soon approved. Construction would require more than a dozen years, but in the end “the queen’s fountains” provided clean water for Kingslanders for many generations to come.

—Fire & Blood

Sansa made Joffrey gave some money to a poor woman with a death baby:

Halfway along the route, a wailing woman forced her way between two watchmen and ran out into the street in front of the king and his companions, holding the corpse of her dead baby above her head. It was blue and swollen, grotesque, but the real horror was the mother's eyes. Joffrey looked for a moment as if he meant to ride her down, but Sansa Stark leaned over and said something to him. The king fumbled in his purse, and flung the woman a silver stag. The coin bounced off the child and rolled away, under the legs of the gold cloaks and into the crowd, where a dozen men began to fight for it. The mother never once blinked. Her skinny arms were trembling from the dead weight of her son.

—A Clash of Kings - Tyrion IX

But the people was hungry and wanted bread:

From both sides of the street, the crowd surged against the spear shafts while the gold cloaks struggled to hold the line. Stones and dung and fouler things whistled overhead. “Feed us!” a woman shrieked. “Bread!” boomed a man behind her. “We want bread, bastard!”

—A Clash of Kings - Tyrion IX

Bread that Sansa would have given them, If she had it:

Tyrion called to her. “Are you hurt, Lady Sansa?” Blood was trickling down Sansa’s brow from a deep gash on her scalp. “They . . . they were throwing things . . . rocks and filth, eggs . . . I tried to tell them, I had no bread to give them”.

—A Clash of Kings - Tyrion IX

In the Show they translated this Sansa’s line of dialogue to this one: “I would have given them bread if I had it.”

Sansa, like Queen Alysanne, knew that love was a surer route to people’s loyalty than fear:

“The night’s first traitors,” the queen said, “but not the last, I fear. Have Ser Ilyn see to them, and put their heads on pikes outside the stables as a warning.” As they left, she turned to Sansa. “Another lesson you should learn, if you hope to sit beside my son. Be gentle on a night like this and you’ll have treasons popping up all about you like mushrooms after a hard rain. The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy.”

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

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa VI

THE NORTH

Did you know that in the ASOIAF Books, Queen Alysanne is mostly mentioned in Stark POVs? Yes, she is. Queen Alysanne is mentioned by Jon, Bran, Catelyn and Sansa. You can also count Samwell Tarly in this list, because he is now a Black Brother of the Night’s Watch and Jon’s best friend.

Jon, Bran and Samwell mention Good Queen Alysanne’s visit to the North and the Wall.

In Catelyn’s and Sansa’s case, they heard singers singing the song “Alysanne”, that according to Sansa is a sad song.

Winterfell

In Winterfell Good Queen Alysanne met Lord Alaric Stark. A man that reminds me a lot of Stannis Baratheon:

Alaric Stark

Alaric Stark was best left in Winterfell; a stubborn man by all reports, stern and hard-handed and unforgiving, he would make for an uncomfortable presence at the council table.

(...)

Lord Alaric had a flinty reputation; a hard man, people said, stern and unforgiving, tight-fisted almost to the point of being niggardly, humorless, joyless, cold. Even Theomore Manderly, who was his bannerman, had not disagreed; Stark was well respected in the North, he said, but not loved. Lord Manderly’s fool had put it elsewise. “Methinks Lord Alaric has not moved his bowels since he was twelve.”

(...)

Her reception at Winterfell did nothing to disabuse the queen’s fears as to what she might expect from House Stark. Even before dismounting to bend the knee, Lord Alaric looked askance at Her Grace’s clothing and said, “I hope you brought something warmer than that.” He then proceeded to declare that he did not want her dragon inside his walls. “I’ve not seen Harrenhal, but I know what happened there.” Her knights and ladies he would receive when they got here, “and the king too, if he can find the way,” but they should not overstay their welcome. “This is the North, and winter is coming. We cannot feed a thousand men for long.” When the queen assured him that only a tenth that number would be coming, Lord Alaric grunted and said, “That’s good. Fewer would be even better.” As had been feared, he was plainly unhappy that King Jaehaerys had not deigned to accompany her, and confessed to being uncertain how to entertain a queen. “If you are expecting balls and masques and dances, you have come to the wrong place.”

—Fire & Blood

Stannis Baratheon

"Robert can barely stomach his brothers. Not that I blame him. Stannis would be enough to give anyone indigestion."

—A Game of Thrones - Bran II

"Oh, a shred, surely," Littlefinger replied negligently. "Hear me out. Stannis is no friend of yours, nor of mine. Even his brothers can scarcely stomach him. The man is iron, hard and unyielding. He'll give us a new Hand and a new council, for a certainty. No doubt he'll thank you for handing him the crown, but he won't love you for it. And his ascent will mean war. Stannis cannot rest easy on the throne until Cersei and her bastards are dead. Do you think Lord Tywin will sit idly while his daughter's head is measured for a spike? Casterly Rock will rise, and not alone. Robert found it in him to pardon men who served King Aerys, so long as they did him fealty. Stannis is less forgiving. He will not have forgotten the siege of Storm's End, and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dare not. Every man who fought beneath the dragon banner or rose with Balon Greyjoy will have good cause to fear. Seat Stannis on the Iron Throne and I promise you, the realm will bleed.

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard XIII

A king's first duty is to defend the realm, and Mance attacked it. His Grace is not like to forget that. My father used to say that Stannis Baratheon was a just man. No one has ever said he was forgiving."

—A Feast for Crows - Samwell I

"A boy he may be, my lord, but … King Robert was well loved, and most men still accept that Tommen is his son. The more they see of Lord Stannis the less they love him, and fewer still are fond of Lady Melisandre with her fires and this grim red god of hers. They complain."

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon III

At this point in ASOIAF, Stannis is in the North trying to take Winterfell from the Boltons. And as Queen Alysanne melted all the ice of Lord Alaric Stark, I think Sansa could do the same with Stannis Baratheon. Sansa would easily befriend Princess Shireen as well:

Even a lord as stern and flinty as Alaric Stark found himself helpless before Queen Alysanne’s stubborn charm.

(...)

The longer the queen stayed, the more Lord Alaric warmed to her, and in time Alysanne came to realize that not everything that was said of him was true. He was careful with his coin, but not niggardly; he was not humorless at all, though his humor had an edge to it, sharp as a knife; his sons and daughter and the people of Winterfell seemed to love him well enough. Once the initial frost had thawed, his lordship took the queen hunting after elk and wild boar in the wolfswood, showed her the bones of a giant, and allowed her to rummage as she pleased through his modest castle library. He even deigned to approach Silverwing, though warily. The women of Winterfell were taken by the queen’s charms as well, once they grew to know her; Her Grace became particularly close with Lord Alaric’s daughter, Alarra.

—Fire & Blood

Night’s Watch

Alysanne then decided to visit the Night’s Watch:

In the North, Queen Alysanne grew restless with waiting, and decided to take her leave of Winterfell for a time and visit the men of the Night’s Watch at Castle Black.

—Fire & Blood

Once at Castle Black she met the Lord Commander:

Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, Lothor Burley, assembled eight hundred of his finest men to receive her. That night the black brothers feasted the queen on mammoth meat, washed down with mead and stout.

—Fire & Blood

Lothor Burley sounds pretty much like Lothor Brune, another of Sansa’s protector.

Curiously enough, Queen Alysanne had this exchange with Lord Commander Burley:

Burley was apologetic for the quality of the food and drink presented to the queen, and the rudeness of the accommodations at Castle Black. “We do what we can, Your Grace,” the Lord Commander explained, “but our beds are hard, our halls are cold, and our food—”

“—is nourishing,” the queen finished. “And that is all that I require. It will please me to eat as you do.”

—Fire & Blood

This exchange is very similar to the one between Sansa Stark and “Lord Commander” Edd Tollet during Season 6 of the Show:

Edd Tollet: Sorry about the food. It’s not what we’re known for.

Sansa Stark: That’s alright. There are more important things.

From Snowgate to Queensgate

Queen Alysanne left her mark in the Night’s Watch forever:

Above all else, a queen must know how to listen,” Alysanne Targaryen often said. At Castle Black, she proved those words. She listened, she heard, and she won the eternal devotion of the men of the Night’s Watch by her actions. She understood the need for a castle between Snowgate and Icemark, she told Lord Burley, but the Nightfort was crumbling, overlarge, and surely ruinous to heat. The Watch should abandon it, she said, and build a smaller castle farther to the east. Lord Burley could not disagree…but the Night’s Watch lacked the coin to build new castles, he said. Alysanne had anticipated that objection. She would pay for the castle herself, she told the Lord Commander, and pledged her jewels to cover the cost. “I have a good many jewels,” she said.

It would take eight years to raise the new castle, which would bear the name of Deep Lake. Outside its main hall, a statue of Alysanne Targaryen stands to this very day. The Nightfort was abandoned even before Deep Lake was completed, as the queen had wished. Lord Commander Burley also renamed Snowgate castle in her honor, as Queensgate.

—Fire & Blood

This is an action that Sansa could easily replicate as Queen in the North. House Stark was always a friend of the Night’s Watch. And as Queen in the North Sansa would probably have statues to honor her all along the North.

Also the “Snow” gate becoming the “Queen” gate gives me a lot of Jon and Sansa romantic vibes.

A New Gift

Queen Alysanne proposed a New Gift:

Lord Stark and King Jaehaerys would never be fast friends; the shade of Walton Stark remained between them to the end. It was only through Queen Alysanne’s good offices that they ever found accord. The queen had visited Brandon’s Gift, the lands south of the Wall that Brandon the Builder had granted to the Watch for their support and sustenance. “It is not enough,” she told the king. “The soil is thin and stony, the hills unpopulated. The Watch lacks for coin, and when winter comes they will lack for food as well.” The answer she proposed was a New Gift, a further strip of land south of Brandon’s Gift.

The notion did not please Lord Alaric; though a strong friend to the Night’s Watch, he knew that the lords who presently held the lands in question would object to them being given away without their leave. “I have no doubt that you can persuade them, Lord Alaric,” the queen said. And finally, charmed by her as ever, Alaric Stark agreed that, aye, he could. And so it came to pass that the size of the Gift was doubled with a stroke.

—Fire & Blood

Jon remembers Ned Stark’s wishes for the New Gift:

Your brothers will not like it, no more than your father's lords, but I mean to allow the wildlings through the Wall . . . those who will swear me their fealty, pledge to keep the king's peace and the king's laws, and take the Lord of Light as their god. Even the giants, if those great knees of theirs can bend. I will settle them on the Gift, once I have wrested it away from your new Lord Commander. When the cold winds rise, we shall live or die together. It is time we made alliance against our common foe." He looked at Jon. "Would you agree?"

"My father dreamed of resettling the Gift," Jon admitted. "He and my uncle Benjen used to talk of it." He never thought of settling it with wildlings, though . . . but he never rode with wildlings, either. He did not fool himself; the free folk would make for unruly subjects and dangerous neighbors. Yet when he weighed Ygritte's red hair against the cold blue eyes of the wights, the choice was easy. "I agree."

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XI

This is something Sansa would do as Queen in the North, to fulfill Ned’s wishes, either with the wildlings or northern people, or both.

Also, take note how Jon is always choosing the redhead girl over a threat to the realm and humanity... After all, Jon is the shield that guards the realms of men.

The Wall and Beyond

Finally, to finish the North section, we have that Queen Alysanne’s reaction to the Wall and the lands beyond, is very similar to the reaction Jon Snow imagines Sansa would have to that sight:

Her first sight of the Wall from above took Alysanne’s breath away, Her Grace would later tell the king.

—Fire & Blood

The pale pink light of dawn sparkled on branch and leaf and stone. Every blade of grass was carved from emerald, every drip of water turned to diamond. Flowers and mushrooms alike wore coats of glass. Even the mud puddles had a bright brown sheen. Through the shimmering greenery, the black tents of his brothers were encased in a fine glaze of ice.

So there is magic beyond the Wall after all. He found himself thinking of his sisters, perhaps because he'd dreamed of them last night. Sansa would call this an enchantment, and tears would fill her eyes at the wonder of it, but Arya would run out laughing and shouting, wanting to touch it all.

—A Clash of Kings - Jon III

And this passage about Alysanne ride atop the Wall from Snowgate to the Nightfort and the descending to the ruinous castle, reminds me a lot of Sansa’s descending from the Eyrie to the Gates of the Moon:

Lord Commander Burley himself took the queen into the haunted forest (with a hundred rangers riding escort). When Alysanne expressed the wish to see some of the other forts along the Wall, the First Ranger Benton Glover led her west atop the Wall, past Snowgate to the Nightfort, where they made their descent and spent the night. The ride, the queen decided, was as breathtaking a journey as she had ever experienced, “as exhilarating as it was cold, though the wind up there blows so strongly that I feared it was about to sweep us off the Wall.” The Nightfort itself she found grim and sinister. “It is so huge the men seem dwarfed by it, like mice in a ruined hall,” she told Jaehaerys, “and there is a darkness there…a taste in the air…I was so glad to leave that place.”

—Fire & Blood

"Ser Sweetrobin," Lord Robert said, and Alayne knew that she dare not wait for Mya to return. She helped the boy dismount, and hand in hand they walked out onto the bare stone saddle, their cloaks snapping and flapping behind them. All around was empty air and sky, the ground falling away sharply to either side. There was ice underfoot, and broken stones just waiting to turn an ankle, and the wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghostwolf, big as mountains.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

I HOPE MY HUSBAND FALLS OFF HIS HORSE

This is just a funny parallel:

What do those “highborn ladies do whilst their lords are out deflowering maidens? Do they sew? Sing? Pray? Were it me, I might pray my lord husband fell off his horse and broke his neck coming home.”

—Fire & Blood

Those lords Alysanne was referring to sounds very much like Harry the Heir:

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.

—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

Sassy Queens!

A FEMALE RULER

A ruler needs a good head and a true heart. A cock is not essential. —Alysanne Targaryen

Queen Alysanne wanted a female Targaryen ruler. She really wanted it. She tried. She failed.

This is a bit hypocrite tho... Since Alyssa, Jaehaerys and Alysanne herself wronged Rhaena and her claim to the throne, but still...

You could argue Jaehaerys and Alysanne ruled together, but despite the great influence and counsel of Queen Alysanne, she was not the ruler. Jaehaerys was. Alysanne was only the Queen consort.

Alysanne wished for her daughter Daenerys to be Queen, but Jaehaerys wanted a male heir to succeed him on the throne, so he chose his son Aemon:

“She is so clever, she will be reading to me before long,” she told the king. “She is going to be a great queen, I know it.”

(...)

Jaehaerys loved all three children fiercely, but from the moment Aemon was born, the king began to speak of him as his heir, to Queen Alysanne’s displeasure. “Daenerys is older,” she would remind His Grace. “She is first in line; she should be queen.” The king would never disagree, except to say, “She shall be queen, when she and Aemon marry. They will rule together, just as we have.” But Benifer could see that the king’s words did not entirely please the queen, as he noted in his letters.

—Fire & Blood

Alysanne also wished for her granddaughter Rhaenys to be Queen, she was the only child of the heir to the throne, Prince Aemon, but Jaehaerys wanted a male heir to succeed him on the throne, so he named Prince Baelon, Aemon’s younger brother, the Prince of Dragonstone:

Baelon, a seasoned knight of thirty-five, was better suited for rule than the eighteen-year-old Princess Rhaenys or her unborn babe (who might or might not be a boy, whereas Prince Baelon had already sired two healthy sons, Viserys and Daemon). The love of the commons for Baelon the Brave was also cited.

(...)

The most prominent dissenter was Good Queen Alysanne, who had helped her husband rule the Seven Kingdoms for many years, and now saw her son’s daughter being passed over because of her sex. “A ruler needs a good head and a true heart,” she famously told the king. “A cock is not essential.”

(...)

The queen died of a wasting illness in 100 AC, at the age of four-and-sixty, still insisting that her granddaughter Rhaenys and her children had been unfairly cheated of their rights.

Sansa Stark has a lot of Queen foreshadowing and imagery around her and she could be the one female ruler to defeat patriarchy in ASOIAF.

SARA SNOW

Let me tell you about a northern girl, the mysterious bastard girl from Winterfell, a wolf girl called Sara Snow:

But we turn to Mushroom to find the tales other chronicles omit, nor does he fail us now. His account introduces a young maiden, or “wolf girl” as he dubs her, with the name of Sara Snow. So smitten was Prince Jacaerys with this creature, a bastard daughter of the late Lord Rickon Stark, that he lay with her of a night. On learning that his guest had claimed the maidenhead of his bastard sister, Lord Cregan became most wroth, and only softened when Sara Snow told him that the prince had taken her for his wife. They had spoken their vows in Winterfell’s own godswood before a heart tree, and only then had she given herself to him, wrapped in furs amidst the snows as the old gods looked on.

This makes for a charming story, to be sure, but as with many of Mushroom’s fables, it seems to partake more of a fool’s fevered imaginings than of historical truth. Jacaerys Velaryon had been betrothed to his cousin Baela since he was four and she was two, and from all we know of his character, it seems most unlikely that he would break such a solemn agreement to protect the uncertain virtue of some half-wild, unwashed northern bastard. If indeed there ever lived a Sara Snow, and if indeed the Prince of Dragonstone perchanced to dally with her, that is no more than other princes have done in the past, and will do on the morrow, but to talk of marriage is preposterous.

(Mushroom also claims that Vermax left a clutch of dragon’s eggs at Winterfell, which is equally absurd. Whilst it is true that determining the sex of a living dragon is a nigh on impossible task, no other source mentions Vermax producing so much as a single egg, so it must be assumed that he was male. Septon Barth’s speculation that the dragons change sex at need, being “as mutable as flame,” is too ludicrous to consider.)

This we do know: Cregan Stark and Jacaerys Velaryon reached an accord, and signed and sealed the agreement that Grand Maester Munkun calls “the Pact of Ice and Fire” in his True Telling. Like many such pacts, it was to be sealed with a marriage. Lord Cregan’s son, Rickon, was a year old. Prince Jacaerys was as yet unmarried and childless, but it was assumed that he would sire children of his own once his mother sat the Iron Throne. Under the terms of the pact, the prince’s firstborn daughter would be sent north at the age of seven, to be fostered at Winterfell until such time as she was old enough to marry Lord Cregan’s heir.

—Fire & Blood

How is Sara Snow connected with Queen Alysanne and Sansa Stark?

At this point in ASOIAF, Sansa Stark is under the disguise of Alayne Stone, a bastard girl, like Sara Snow. Both young maidens, and both were called wolf girls:

The green knight laughed again. "Barristan the Old, you mean. Don't flatter him too sweetly, child, he thinks overmuch of himself already." 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."

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

And regarding Queen Alysanne, Sara Snow is linked with her through their husbands.

According to Mushroom, Sara Snow married a Targaryen Prince in secret. And who was this Targaryen Prince? It was Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, the older son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, Heir to the Iron Throne.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon was a Targaryen Prince with brown hair (Like Jon Snow). He was probable a bastard (Like Jon Snow) son of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Ser Harwin Strong, called Breakbones.

Curiously enough, Jacaerys Velaryon supposed father, Laenor Velaryon wanted to name him Joffrey (Like Sansa’s first betrothed Joffrey Baratheon, also a bastard).

Jacaerys is a traditional Velaryon name. House Velaryon is of Valyrian descent, and its members often have Valyrian features, such as silver hair, purple eyes, and pale skin. But as I said before, Jacaerys had brown hair, like Jon Snow.

Also, Jacaerys sounds like the Velaryon version of Jaehaerys. The short for Jacaerys was Jace.

Sara Snow and Jacaerys Velaryon married in secret like Alysanne and Jaehaerys.

Alysanne and Jaehaerys eloped because their mother planned to marry Alysanne with Orryn Baratheon (This is also parallel with Rhaegar and Lyanna).

Jacaerys Velaryon was already betrothed with his cousin Baela Targaryen. Jacaerys Velaryon broke that vow to marry Sara Snow in secret.

These two couples Sara Snow & Jacaerys Velaryon and Alysanne and Jaehaerys Targaryen are two similar versions of Rhaegar and Lyanna, a Targaryen Prince with a Stark maiden or, in Alysanne case, a maiden that reminds us of a Stark one. All three secret marriages that broke a previous betrothal.

Curiously enough, Cregan Stark (Sara Snow’s brother) and Jacaerys Velaryon signed “the Pact of Ice and Fire”, a pact sealed with a marriage, a marriage between the Stark Heir (Cregan’s son) with a Velaryon/Targaryen Princess (Jacaerys’ daughter).

Under the terms of the pact, Jacaerys’ firstborn daughter would be sent north at the age of seven, to be fostered at Winterfell until such time as she was old enough to marry Lord Cregan’s heir.

That pact never happened because Jacaerys Velaryon died childless.

Mushroom said that Vermax (Jacaerys’ dragon) left a clutch of dragon’s eggs at Winterfell. This could have meant that Sara Snow (Jacaerys’ wife) was already pregnant with Jacaerys’ first child and if that child were a girl, she must have married her cousin Rickon Stark. But that never happened.

What did happen was that Jon Snow, the son of a Targaryen Prince with a Stark Maiden, was raised at Winterfell, next to his cousin Sansa Stark, older daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, with whom he can fulfill the “the Pact of Ice and Fire”.

Rhaegar himself probably tried to fulfill “the Pact of Ice and Fire” with Lyanna Stark. And Jon Snow would be the fruit of that fulfillment, a son of Ice and Fire.

Here you can read more about Jace & Sara.

ALYSANNE “BLACK ALY” BLACKWOOD

Alysanne Blackwood, also known as Black Aly, is not very similar to Queen Alysanne or Sansa Stark. She was a woman more like Arya Stark. In summary: Not a Lady.

But Alysanne Blackwood became the second wife of Lord Cregan Stark, wich made her Lady Stark, Lady Alysanne Stark.

RICKON STARK

Lord Cregan Stark had a son with his first wife Arra Norrey, a boy named Rickon Stark. And little Rickon sang for the new Lady Stark:

The wedding itself was said to be splendid, however; Black Aly and her wolf pledged their troth before the heart tree in Winterfell’s icy godswood. At the feast afterward, four-year-old Rickon, Lord Cregan’s son by his first wife, sang a song for his new stepmother.

—Fire & Blood

This will probably never happen, but imagine our little Rickon Stark singing for his sister-mother Sansa Stark... But our beloved Rickon is a wild wolf pup so he would probably howl instead of sing, after all:

“The Starks know no music but the howling of wolves.” —A Game of Thrones - Catelyn V

SANSARA TARLY

If you thought that all this similar/linked names are just a coincidence, that Sara Snow has nothing to do with Queen Alysanne and Sansa Stark, now let me tell you about “more coincidences”, let me tell you about Sansara Tarly.

In Fire & Blood, during the searching for King Aegon III second wife, we meet a character named Sansara Tarly:

Perhaps the boldest letter came from the irrepressible Lady Samantha of Oldtown, who declared that her sister Sansara (of House Tarly) “is spirited and strong, and has read more books than half the maesters in the Citadel” whilst her good-sister Bethany (of House Hightower) was “very beautiful, with smooth soft skin and lustrous hair and the sweetest manner,” though also “lazy and somewhat stupid, truth be told, though some men seem to like that in a wife.” She concluded by suggesting that perhaps King Aegon should marry both of them, “one to rule beside him, as Queen Alysanne did King Jaehaerys, and one to bed and breed.”

—Fire & Blood

Sansara is literally a combination of Sansa and Sara.

Sansara is from House Tarly, and our beloved Samwell Tarly is, what I call, a Male!Sansa:

Yes, it’s just amazing how similar Sansa Stark and Samwell Tarly are. They have a lot of common interests and they sure would be the best of friends:

Whatever pride his lord father might have felt at Samwell’s birth vanished as the boy grew up plump, soft, and awkward. Sam loved to listen to music and make his own songs, to wear soft velvets, to play in the castle kitchen beside the cooks, drinking in the rich smells as he snitched lemon cakes and blueberry tarts. His passions were books and kittens and dancing, clumsy as he was.

—A Game of Thrones - Jon IV

Sam remembered the last time he’d sung the song with his mother, to lull baby Dickon to sleep. His father had heard their voices and come barging in, angry. “I will have no more of that,” Lord Randyll told his wife harshly. “You ruined one boy with those soft septon’s songs, do you mean to do the same to this babe?” Then he looked at Sam and said, “Go sing to your sisters, if you must sing. I don’t want you near my son.”

—A Storm of Swords - Samwell III

And during a few passages in the ASOIAF Books you can read how Samwell prays to the Mother: “Mother have mercy, Mother have mercy, Mother have mercy.”, just like Sansa.

It is said that Sansara Tarly “has read more books than half the maesters in the Citadel”. This is a direct connection to Queen Alysanne, another book lover that could have been a Maester of the Citadel; and also to Samwell Tarly who is actually studying at the Citadel to become a Maester (Thanks to Jon Snow). Another book lover? Yes, Sansa Stark.

Sansa - Alayne - Alysanne - Sara - Sansara

What an interesting chain of names George, all of them connected, so subtle of you:

SANSA’S bastard name is ALAYNE

ALAYNE can be formed removing a letter S and one letter N from ALYSANNE

SARA was called WOLF GIRL like SANSA

SARA is a bastard like ALAYNE

SARA married in secret with JACAERYS just like ALYSANNE married in secret with JAEHAERYS (Also JACAERYS = JAEHAERYS)

ALYSANNE “Black Aly” Blackwood married Lord Cregan Stark and became LADY STARK, LADY ALYSANNE STARK

SANSARA is a combination of SANSA and SARA

SANSARA is from House Tarly, like Samwell Tarly who is a Male!Sansa

SANSARA is as cultured and well read as ALYSANNE (Also like Samwell and Sansa)

GRRM chooses the names of his characters very carefully. For example, here is what he has said about the Stark Sisters’ Names:

The names Arya and Sansa are meant to represent the polar opposites of their characters, Arya being a hard sounding name, Sansa a softer more pretty name, etc. [Source]

After all of this, if GRRM decides to name a next character of the ASOIAF Universe: ‘ALYSANSA’, I would not be surprised.

I rest my case.

#Sansa Stark #is this jonsa?#jonsa #Alayne Stone #Alysanne Targaryen #Good Queen Alysanne #Sara Snow #Sansara Tarly #Alysanne Blackwood #Jacaerys Velaryon #Jaehaerys Targaryen #King Jaehaerys I Targaryen #Cregan Stark #AlySansa

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justfandomwritings · 5 years

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United In Fear (Part One - Soulmate!Robb)

Pairing: Robb Stark x Reader; Soulmates AU (because Game of Thrones just didn’t have enough fantasy drama for me)

Word count: 7.6k

Warnings: Angsty fluff, someone get’s punched but it’s not super dramatic

Summary: The names were the greatest mystery in Westeros. Each kingdom had their own telling of the story. None of the kingdoms could agree on where they were from or how they came to be. Each thought a different god, their own interpretation of religion, was responsible, but all seemed to agree on one thing: they were a gift.

Notes: so the thing is right... I didn’t really mean to write this. It just sort of came out. Long story short. It’s an idea I had. If people like it, I’ll finish it. It will probably take 3-4 Parts to complete the story arc I have in mind. Each part about this long.

It wasn’t her banner or her looks that tipped Robb Stark off that she was (Y/n) Lannister. It was her being. The way she dismounted her horse while all of Winterfell still knelt before Robert Baratheon, as though everyone, even the King, was beneath her. The way she took her brother’s helping hand as if Lannister blood was the only thing worthy of touching her skin. The way her chin never dipped, always keeping her head up and her gaze held high. The way her feet glided over the ground with quick, sure steps that spoke of how little she wished to touch Northern soil. The way she never met the gaze of anyone, save her siblings, Robb’s father, and the King. (Y/n) Lannister could not have hidden her identity even if she tried, and she most certainly did not try.

She kept beside her brother as the King motioned for them to rise and greeted Robb’s father. Her eyes took the time to wander over the keep, and she kept her expression unreadably passive wherever they went. She made no acknowledgment that anything important was happening around her until her sister exited the carriage. (Y/n) released her brother’s arm and stepped forward to stand at the queen’s right hand.

“My queen,” Ned Stark said as he bent to kiss Cersei’s offered hand.

“My queen,” Catelyn echoed with a curtsy.

Cersei greeted both with a weary, but polite nod. “My sister,” Cersei stepped aside, positioning herself in front of Robb, and held out her hand for introductions, “(Y/n) Lannister, Lady of the Rock.”

(Y/n) offered no hand, so Ned simply bowed before her. “My lady.”

She curtsied with the air of someone who would have preferred not to move at all. “A pleasure, Lord Stark.”

“The pleasure is ours, Lady Lannister,” Catelyn greeted, repeating her curtsy.

(Y/n) returned Catelyn’s pleasantries only to be interrupted by the King. “Take me to your crypt. I want to pay my respects.”

(Y/n) and Cersei averted their gaze to Robert with matching expressions of distaste. “We’ve been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait.” Cersei’s tone was dismissive, but her expression as Robert called for Ned to step around her was nothing short of wounded.

Robb watched the sneer on (Y/n)’s face as she eyed Robert Baratheon’s retreating back. He wondered, to himself, if it was agitation at being spoken over, agitation on her sister’s behalf, or simply agitation with the state of the King. Robb wasn’t sure he would blame her with any of the three. He couldn’t recall his father ever speaking over a noblewoman of any standing, and Ned was certainly never so dismissive to Robb’s mother.

And the King. Well, the King was not at all what Robb expected from his father’s stories. He knew the man had aged some since his father had last seen him, but Robb thought he’d have aged with more dignity. He didn’t expect a belly fat with food, breath stale with wine, or a horse’s dismount that require a servant to bring the King a stool. Robert Baratheon was what Robb Stark expected of a wealthy village drunkard, not his supposedly heroic, noble namesake.

The Lannisters, for all the harsh words his father had to say about them, did not at all disappoint. The family measured up entirely to even their most fantastical tales. The Queen had aged some since the songs had named her the Light of the West, but she had aged with grace. Her beauty had changed, but Robb could say with some certainty that it hadn’t faded.

Jaime Lannister was ever the Golden Lion. A ballad of his bravery during the Greyjoy Rebellion had once been sung at a feast in Winterfell, and Ned Stark had grudgingly admitted the words to be true. The Queen’s twin was a formidable man who’s self confidence was only matched by the skill he used to justify it. All the poets had something to say or sing about Jaime Lannister. Some painted him a hero, some a villain. But all painted him the perfect image of a knight, and the man before Robb now proved them all to be right.

(Y/n) was not the subject of songs, but whispers. Tywin’s youngest child was no older than Robb himself, the product of a second marriage Tywin did not wish to make. She was rumored to be her father reincarnate. With her mother dead in the birthing bed and her siblings in King’s Landing, (Y/n) had been raised by Tywin and Tywin alone, entirely in his own image. Watching her stand in the grounds of Winterfell, Robb would say that Tywin’s quest had been a complete success. She was only a young woman, yet her presence demanded respect, and everyone gave it.

“Where’s the Imp?” Arya asked her older sister, with no attempts at hiding her words.

The words drew (Y/n)’s gaze, and for the first time, Robb watched his youngest sister cower back, afraid.

The Queen turned her head to her sister. “The little beast wandered off again.”

“I’ll find him,” (Y/n) didn’t bother to look at her sister as she addressed her. Her eyes stayed on Arya for a moment longer before she whipped around, marching back to her horse.

“My lady,” Catelyn took a step out of line after the youngest Lannister. “Perhaps, we can offer some assistance.”

Jaime Lannister responded with a chuckle as he offered (Y/n) a hand back on her horse. “Only in finding your nearest brothels.”

Catelyn Stark was thoroughly scandalized as Lady (Y/n) rode away, Ser Jaime following at her heels.

Robb sighed to himself and turned away. She hadn’t been introduced to him. He still couldn’t be sure.

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The names were the greatest mystery in Westeros. Each kingdom had their own telling of the story. None of the kingdoms could agree on where they were from or how they came to be. Each thought a different god, their own interpretation of religion, was responsible, but all seemed to agree on one thing: they were a gift.

In the North, they maintained the names were a mystery of the Old Gods, a force that no man could influence or pretend to understand. The descendants of the First Men claimed the names long predated the Faith of the Seven and dated all the way back to the Children of the Forest. No proof could be found of this, but given the Andals hostile takeover of the other kingdoms, much of the First Men’s culture and history had been lost. It fell to the Starks alone to remember, and they did their job well. The North remembered.

The Reach claimed they came from the Father. They argued that if the names were given by the gods, surely they came from the Father who was Above All. They weaved a tale of a man, loyal to no god but the Seven, who came to Westeros with the invasion of the Andals. He preached and pleaded with the First Men to convert to the one true religion, and everywhere he went they rebuked him. Everywhere but Oldtown. Everyone but House Hightower. As a gift, for the conversion of Damon Hightower to the Faith of the Seven, the Father gave the names to the Reach, and thus as the faith spread so did the names across all of Westeros.

The Stormlands claimed that, in fact, the Smith, mender of broken things, was responsible for the gift. Men, whether they were Andals or First Men or Rhoynar, were harsh, imperfect creatures, and nowhere was that more true than the Stormlands. The Smith had long made it his responsibility to put their world right, and that began with fixing the men themselves. He began with Hugor of the Hill, the first King of the Andals. The Smith touched Hugor’s arm to give him the name of his wife, so she might heal the scars the world left on him and his sons might find maidens of their own to do the same.

The Warrior was, in fact, the source of the The Vale’s legends. It made sense in that The Vale was the first place invaded by the Andals. They claimed the reason the names existed in Westeros but not Essos was because the Andals had never conquered the eastern continent. Where the Andals seized land in honor of the Warrior, the Seven would bless the soldiers out of gratitude for their service. Of course, this blessing started with the Vale.

In the Crownlands, the names were said to be given by the Mother. It was said that one day she looked down on a small, forgotten sept in the Crownlands and saw one of her devout, a young married woman, crying at her altar. The young woman had been married for two years and had yet to fall pregnant with her husband. He was an angry, cruel man, threatening to disavow her and name her barren if she did not give him a child within the year. The woman called out for the Mother’s mercy, for a child she could not have, and the Mother heard her cries. She wanted happiness for her good and faithful servant and knew she would not attain it with such a man. Reaching down, the Mother touched the woman’s arm, and a man’s name appeared, a name that was not her husband’s. Many years later, Baelor the Blessed would visit every sept in the Crownlands, looking for the place where the Mother gave the names, and when he sensed he had found it, he built up around that sept the Great Sept of Baelor, a sept worthy of the gift the Mother had given to man that day.

The Westerlands cited scripture. It was written in the Seven Pointed Star that Hugor of the Hill received a blessing from each of the Gods, and when it came to the Maid, she gave Hugor a maiden of his own, a wife of great beauty and innocence. The Westerlands maintained this must mean she gave the names; it was the Maiden’s way of giving the gift of love to every true believer in the Seven.

The Crone belonged to the Riverlands, in more ways than one. To the Lords and Ladies of the Riverlands, the Crone was held in the highest esteem. The names were without fault or failure. How could anyone think the wisdom of age, that only came from the old woman, was not involved? They told a lovely story of the Crone looking on the youth of the Maiden with sympathy for her ignorance. Longing to spare her from making the same mistakes the Crone had learned from in her youth, the Crone spared her the search for a man who truly loved her by pointing her in the right direction.

Dorne had the simplest explanation, and they did not bother trying to justify it with tall tales or kingdom history. They said the names were a gift from the Stranger. So that no man need face Death alone. Robb liked that explanation best.

Still, he did not believe in the Stranger. He kept faith with the Old Gods. His mother had made a point that all her children at least understood the Seven and understood that, while they were the same gods everywhere, each kingdom saw them differently. Catelyn knew that Ned would have to raise them to worship at the weirwood tree, but she didn’t want her children to feel out of place if they ever joined her in the sept or journeyed in the rest of Westeros.

Robb knew all the lore, and he remembered it well. Not so well as Sansa, who longed to go South, but better than Arya who never listened no matter how many times she was told.

He would often lie awake at night staring at the name inked into his arm, wondering to himself what she thought of this. If she, like him, believed his name on her arm to be a gift from the Old Gods, beyond the understanding of man. If she thought his name was a gift from any one of the Seven for any number of reasons. Or if she was on the other side of Westeros, simply looking for a companion to her grave.

Her name was never far from his thoughts. He wondered where she was. He wondered her station. He wondered how she felt. He wondered if she wondered about him. How could she not? They were destined for each other, destined to be together, if not in this life than the next.

When he was younger, Robb had longed for her. His nurse had met her mate, a butcher from one of the smaller towns outside of Winterfell; and he longed for the love he saw in her eyes. He longed for frivolous things: someone to suffer through his lessons with, someone to ride the Wolfswood beside, someone to take some of the weight of Winterfell off his shoulders.

As he got older, he learned better than to dream of such things.

Not everyone met their match, and the odds were not in Robb’s favor. Most of Westeros lived and died without knowing whose name had mared their skin for life. There were too many people, spread out over too great a distance, over Seven Kingdoms and the Vale, and all anyone ever had to search for was their first name, their given name on their arm. Those who did find the one were usually those who were able to devote their lives to the scowering the Seven Kingdoms in their search.

Heir to Winterfell, Robb did not have the time to search for his mate. She would have to wait. He would see her in the next life. Robb would never be able to marry the girl whose name was on his arm. Even if he found her, he could not have her. There were millions of women in Westeros, and his mate would not be among the nobility.

It was an incredibly rare occurrence for nobility to be destined for each other, but it had been known to happen on occasion. Yet only once, in the millions of Westerosi, in the thousands of mates that found one another, in the hundreds of nobility that went searching, in the dozens of nobility that found their mate, and the few who found their mate to be someone of equal standing. Only once in history had two nobles found each other’s names and actually managed to be married. Two Lannisters, of all the undeserving families in the Kingdoms. As if anyone could have denied Tywin Lannister anything.

Tywin’s love for his wife, Joanna, was as legendary as his victories in battle. The Lannisters sang the Rains of Castamere at their tournaments, and the Lion and the Lady at their feasts. Every man, woman, and child in Westeros knew the words to both.

Tywin loved Joanna deeply, unconditionally, and once they touched, no one could keep him from taking her as his own. They shared a bond deeper than their lives and deeper than her death.

No one knew a greater love than Tywin, and no one knew a greater loss.

Aerys Targaryen could have gotten away with all his burnings, all his cruelties, all his madness; bare one. Bare the day of the Tourney at Harrenhal when he declared the end of Tywin’s mourning, when he stole Tywin’s son and declared before all the Seven Kingdoms the Hand of the King would remarry.

The stories said that was the day the Targaryens lost the war: long before it even started. Of course, Rhaegar snubbed his wife, Elia, in front of Prince Oberyn. Yes, he kidnapped Lyanna Stark from under Robert Baratheon’s nose. Sure, Aerys did give away the woman Ned Stark was pursuing. But more than all of that, it was the day the Targaryens crossed Tywin Lannister, and there was one certainty about Tywin Lannister. Those who crossed him only got to do so once.

Any other man in the Seven would have been thrilled, relieved even, to marry Ashara Dayne. Tywin Lannister simply looked on the girl and walked away.

It was common knowledge that Tywin only ever touched his second wife twice: once to hold her hand to complete the wedding ceremony and once during the bedding. The maids who came to collect the sheets the next morning swore they heard Tywin cry, but that could have just been a rumor. Neither maid was seen or heard from in any noble house in Westeros again to confirm or deny.

It was likely for the best that Ashara died giving birth to her only child. It spared her a lifetime of living in the shadow of a ghost. It spared her the pain of watching her daughter, (Y/n), twisted into the spitting image of her father.

Robb had heard her name once, (Y/n) Lannister, and asked his mother hopefully if that was the (Y/n) on his arm. He didn’t know her, but he hoped it was her, hoped it was someone he might actually be able to marry one day.

Catelyn had been aghast. She swore no son of hers could ever be bound to a Lannister.

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“My lady,” A knock came on the chamber door. “The feast is prepared, and the guests are assembling downstairs.”

(Y/n) threw the door open and leaned against the thick wood frame as she crossed her arms over her chest with a mischievous smirk. “My lady? Since when did you use such formalities?”

Jaime stood on the other side of the door, looking as golden and perfect in his armor as always. His lips were pulled wide in a smirk matching his little sister;s, the one he’d spent years teaching her on their father’s occasional trips with her to King’s Landing. “Well, when you are in the presence of the acting Lady of the Rock, one must always keep one’s guard up.” He extended his arm to her, “Shall I escort you?”

“I suppose that wouldn’t be entirely disagreeable,” She mused, lifting her golden skirts with one hand and accepting her brother’s help with the other. “Tell me, do you think Tyrion will grace us with his presence this evening?”

Jaime snorted as he pulled the door to (Y/n)’s room shut and led her down the hall. “Doubtful, though I could be persuaded to hunt him down if you or Cersei wished.”

“Cersei never wishes,” (Y/n) rolled her eyes.

She and Cersei had a mutual understanding that was heavily dependent on both sisters keeping their distance. Of her siblings, (Y/n) was closest to Tyrion, but she wasn’t about to get in a fight with Cersei over forcing his attendance at a meager Northern feast.

“But you always do.” Jaime said it like he was reminding her of something profound rather than her own opinion.

Jaime let go of her hand and descended the narrow, winding steps to the ground floor, staying one step ahead of her so he might catch her if she slipped. He knew it was an unnecessary precaution. (Y/n) never slipped, in actions or in words. It still made him feel better to know he could catch her if he needed.

“Because I love our brother dearly, Jaime, as do you.”

“Cersei loves him in her own way.” Jaime tried to placate.

(Y/n) only scoffed. “You always were a terrible liar.”

With a chuckle, he took her hand and helped her off the final step back onto the solid stone of one of Winterfell’s many long, dark halls. “You and I both know that’s not true. I can get away with lying to anyone I’m not related to. It’s only you three and father who ever really caught me in a lie.”

“Yes, but I believe I deserve greater credit than the others. They have far more experience; I missed all of your childhood antics. All I have are Tyrion’s stories and father’s criticisms to keep me company at the Rock.”

Jaime nodded in agreement. “The Rock can be quite lonely. Cersei and I only had each other for a long while.”

(Y/n) looked around for a quick moment before she dragged her brother back by his arm. Her eyes searched the stone in both directions to ensure no one was watching before she pulled him into a narrow walk off the main passage.

“Jaime,” her tone was a quiet, harsh warning.

Not for the first time since they’d started the journey North, Jaime heard his father in her voice. It always amazed him. He wondered if she knew she was doing, or if it came to her naturally.

“Do not do this here.” (Y/n) pressed.

“Do not do what, sister?”

Her head cocked to the side, eyes judging his every word. It was the way Tywin looked at advisors who spoke out of turn. “You know what. You and Cersei hide nothing from me. I remain silent out of respect for you, but don’t mistake my silence as approval of your behavior.”

The muscles in Jaime’s jaw tightened. A tell that he was about to lie. “I don’t know what you’re…”

She cut him off before he could finish. “Do not play games with me, Jaime. I am not Tyrion, too drunk to care; and I am not father who does not see what he does not want to see. I see you Jaime.”

“Sister, what exactly is the point of this conversation?” He wouldn’t bother denying it again. If the first denial didn’t put (Y/n) off, it meant she would not be dissuaded.

“My point?” She went on her toes and looked over his shoulder. Her voice was quiet enough not to bounce off the stone, and the walls shielded them from most prying eyes. Yet that did nothing to quiet her concern. “My point is that I will not have you risking this family, Jaime.”

“You think so little of me, sister?”

“Yes.” It was a blunt answer. An honest answer. “Jaime, unlike our siblings, I do not think you foolish, but I do think you arrogant. You know the consequences of being caught. You’re just far too confident that you won’t be.”

Jaime sighed and ran a hand through his hair. (Y/n) was impossible to argue with. Part of it was her mind. Jaime always joked she had inherited the portion meant for him. A greater part was their father. (Y/n) had a way of saying the things he knew Tywin would, but with a touch more caring that made him actually want to listen.

(Y/n) took the pause as opportunity. “Listen to me, Jaime. I know what you’re thinking, brother. You think, even if caught, there will be no consequences for your actions, because there never have been before. You know what the consequences should be, but you don’t think they apply to you. If you got caught in Casterly Rock, the servants would die with your secret, whether they kept it till old age or were hung from the gallows by father. If you got caught in King’s Landing, there would be whispers. Yet, no one would be foolhardy enough to question you of them, or Maester Pycelle would poison them by dinner.”

She growled, dragging his face down to her level by the collar of his breastplate. (Y/n) needed him to listen to her. “This is not Casterly Rock, Jaime, nor is it King’s Landing. This is the North. You are in the enemy’s camp, and your name will not protect you.”

Jaime measured his sister’s words carefully. “If it would make you happy, sister, then nothing will happen while we are under Ned Stark’s roof.”

“I would be utterly relieved, if I actually believed you.” Her tone was short, but Jaime could tell she was hopeful.

“All will be above reproach,” he offered her his arm again. “You have my word.”

(Y/n) accepted with a wary expression but allowed him to pull her back into the hall and west towards the feast. She could hear it now. There was raucous laughter and loud music filling the air.

“Lady Lannister,” Three more long hallways, and Jaime presented his sister to the Lady of Winterfell, Catelyn Stark.

“Lady Stark,” (Y/n) curtsied with an elegant twist of her hand. “Judging by the sounds, this will be quite the feast.”

“Indeed,” Catelyn’s smile was warm but not at all inviting. There was a distance to the woman as she stood awkwardly in front of her.

(Y/n) bit back a smirk. Catelyn Stark was smart. Distrusting a Lannister was usually the right idea. “It’s not every day the King makes the long journey north. I’m sure they are excited to be part of such a grand occasion.”

“Made grander by your presence, dear sister.” Jaime had gone to retrieve Cersei.

“My queen, I doubt you need me to accomplish such a task.” (Y/n) gave Cersei a friendly smile. “You are, after all, the Queen of Westeros. What could I possibly add?”

The formality of the conversation between the siblings visibly disconcerted Catelyn. She couldn’t tell what was heartfelt and what was show. Catelyn was caught in a conversation with three Lannister, unable to speak but unable to leave.

“Too gracious of you, sister.” Cersei deferred away. “Jaime retrieved me from my conversation with our host because I hoped to ask you a favor.”

(Y/n) shot her gaze after Ned Stark at the other end of the hall. She would ask about the discussion later; they both knew that. “Do share, my queen. If it is within my power, I will happily oblige.”

Cersei touched a gentle hand to Catelyn’s shoulder, dragging her, unwanted, back into the fold. “Robb Stark, your dear boy,” the Queen smiled to Catelyn, “is the male heir of greatest standing and is duty bound to escort my sweet Myrcella to the feast this evening.”

“That he is,” Catelyn wasn’t sure the explanation was meant for her. It would be far greater offense to ignore than to interrupt.

“It,” the Queen paused as though looking for the right word, but (Y/n) knew whatever was to come Cersei had practiced down to the last pause, “unsettles me.” She seemed to finally choose the word. “He’s an honorable man. I’m certain of that. Still, he’s a man nonetheless, and Myrcella is so young. As a mother of daughters, I am sure you can understand my hesitation.”

Catelyn didn’t, but she acquised. “Of course, my queen. What would you propose?”

“If my sister and your son will agree,” Cersei turned to (Y/n), as if she had a choice in the matter, “I would ask that Myrcella walk with your lovely boy Bran, while Robb escorts (Y/n).”

(Y/n) nodded, “Of course, my queen. If it would ease your mind.”

Catelyn stepped back from Cersei, removing the Lannister’s hand from her shoulder. “I will speak with my son for you, my queen,” She curtsied as she backed away towards the other end of the entryway, where her sons congregated with their father, Robert, and the Baratheon boys.

“Well that went well,” Jaime snorted as he watched Catelyn’s hasty retreat.

“She’s scared,” Cersei rolled her eyes after the older woman.

“She hides it well, though,” (Y/n) offered a subtle agreement. “Do you actually wish me and Myrcella to switch? Or were you just looking to unnerve her?”

When her face turned back to the safety of her siblings, Cersei’s lip curled into a sneer. “I have no intention of that Northmen touching my Myrcella. Robert already means to give my Joff to that wench, Sansa, but at least he’ll be able to stay with me. I won’t have Robert abandoning my sweet girl all alone up here in this waste. That man and this so-called castle aren’t worthy of her.”

“Voices down, sister,” (Y/n) warned with little concern actually seeping through to her tone. “I’ll walk with the Stark. No one will leave Myrcella in the cold.”

“Woman!” Robert’s voice boomed.

(Y/n) caught only a glimpse of Cersei as she turned. The twins truly did share everything. Cersei’s jaw clenched before she lied, as well. “Yes, my love?” It wasn’t a terribly good lie either.

“It’s time to feast. Walk with Ned.”

(Y/n) watched her sister’s hung head approach Ned Stark. If she was a fool, as Robert Baratheon most assuredly was, she would think Cersei humbled, but (Y/n) was no fool.

“My lady.”

(Y/n)’s hair whipped at her cheek, turning her head far too quickly for her to hide that she was anything but surprised by the voice. She hadn’t heard Robb Stark approach, nor had she expected to hear his voice. It wasn’t often that anyone caught her by surprise.

“Yes, my lord.”

“I was told by my mother that I am to escort you.” Robb offered her his hand with a bow. “Unless, of course, you would prefer the company of Rickon.” His smile was teasing but genuine. It was a refreshing change of pace.

“Do not tempt me,” She smiled politely in return. “He is a charmingly adorable child.”

Her hand reached out to accept his, only for his whole body to jerk back the second their fingers brushed.

She couldn’t deny she felt it to.

(Y/n) had long forgotten about the writing on her arm. It was an irritation she had to conceal behind her sleeves, nothing more.

Peasants had a habit of naming their children after their liege lords and other powerful men in Westeros. After Robert became King, Robb proved to be an incredibly common name throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

Not that that would have stopped her. If she truly wanted, she could have offered a gold dragon as reward for every ‘Robb’ in Westeros that came to the Rock to touch her hand. She could have sent the Mountain through the lands to find every man with (Y/n) still written on his arm. She could have snuck away in the dead of night with some knights who preferred her to her father and traveled the Seven Kingdoms in her search. She could have walked the twenty paces from her chambers to the sept and prayed to any of the Seven to put Robb in her path.

Instead, she did nothing. Because, in truth, she had never considered searching for him. (Y/n) didn’t want to meet Robb.

Whatever god was responsible for the names was clearly not listening to her wants.

A burning sensation raced across her arm where she knew Robb’s name to be. She knew what was happening. She’d seen the scars on her father’s skin.

At the first touch, the ink in the skin burned away. It left a mark like the brand of an iron. The scars left behind once it healed would form a mate’s family name.

In a few day’s time, Robb’s arm would read ‘Lannister’, and (Y/n) would forever be signed with the name ‘Stark’.

She always knew finding her mate would be a very bad thing, but this was worse than she’d imagined.

(Y/n)’s aloof mask remained in place, completely ignoring the pain in her arm and Robb’s reaction. “Shall we, Lord Stark?”

Robb was frozen for several long moments in utter confusion. This was obviously not what he’d expected. Taking her hand, utterly baffled by her response, Robb led (Y/n) into the feast as though nothing had transpired.

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A knock to her door woke (Y/n) early the next morning.

“Jaime, if that’s you again, I swear I’ll tell father about accidentally dumping his prized chest in the ocean.” (Y/n) groaned loud enough for whoever was on the other side to hear.

“Now, now, sister,” Jaime didn’t wait for any further invitation and slipped her door only just wide enough to step inside before he slammed it shut. “I’m here by orders of our King.”

(Y/n) rolled out from beneath the furs. “Oh, what could that oaf ever want with me?” She quickly slipped behind her changing screen to put on the dress her maid had left hung over the top of the divider.

“The King asked for you, but I don’t think it was by his own design.”

“Of course it wasn’t. Why would he ever wish to talk to any woman who could think?” (Y/n) quelled her laugh to a soft chuckle. “Help me with these laces,” she came to stand braced against her bed.

Jaime groaned but approached without hesitation, “Sister, you have handmaidens for this. Do you not? Has father so deprived you in my absence?”

(Y/n) commented snidely over her shoulder. “You’re telling me you’ve not helped our sister in more precarious positions than this?”

Jaime gripped the laces and jerked them tight around her body, knocking the wind out of her. “That,” He began to lace her corset back the rest of the way up, “was cheap, even from you.”

She hummed in agreement. “Perhaps it was, but we’re all allowed our days. Yours come once a moon. Tyrion’s come on any day you refuse to let him drink. Cersei’s on any day she has to pretend to enjoy Robert’s company.” (Y/n) twisted to face Jaime with a grin, “Father’s on any day the sun dares to rise.”

Jaime chuckled at that. “And what, dear sister,” he asks as he opens her door, “has you so downtrodden?”

She simply shook her head. “Not for your ears, Jaime. At least, not till I figure out what to say.”

Jaime frowned. “You know, I’m not half as smart as you or Tyrion, but I’m a far better listener. You can always come to me, even if you don’t know what to say.”

“Of course, Jaime.” (Y/n) doubted many things, but she never doubted that.

Their walk to Robert’s chambers passed in comfortable silence. (Y/n) had far too much to contemplate to maintain a conversation, and Jaime knew his sister well enough not to disturb her.

His knock on Robert’s door seemed to be the only thing to wake her from her own mind.

“Enter,” came the King’s voice from inside.

Jaime opened the door for his sister and froze when he saw the contents of the room. The King sat at the desk in the corner with Ned Stark leaned against the wall nearby. Catelyn Stark occupied the chair in the corner, and her eldest son stood at her side.

“My King, the Lady (Y/n) Lannister.” Jaime announced his sister as she stepped through after him.

As usual, (Y/n)’s expression gave nothing away. It was as if she was entirely unsurprised by this gathering. “My King, my lords, my lady,” (Y/n) dipped in acknowledgment of those in the room.

“Leave us, Kingslayer.” Robert spat to Jaime, ignoring (Y/n) as though she hadn’t spoke.

Jaime hesitated. For the first time in a long time, he considered disobeying his king. Jaime didn’t know where this was going, but he didn’t want to leave his sister to face them alone.

“Thank you, Ser Jaime,” (Y/n) only said the words as reason to turn to her brother. Her eyes flicked towards the door, a warning for Jaime to leave.

“Your Grace,” Jaime bowed and took the exit. It was Boros Blount’s turn to stand guard at the King’s door, but a glare at the man and a wave of Jaime’s wrist were all it took to send the knight off down the hall. Jaime trusted his sister in these situations, but he did not trust the rest of the room.

“How may I be of service?” (Y/n) asked as the door clanged shut behind her.

Without getting up, Robert managed to turn his chair with a loud scrape against the floor. “You know damn well how. Show us your arm, girl.”

Every eye in the room was on her, and she could read them all. Robert’s impatient agitation; Robb’s deep confusion; Ned’s sanctimonious disappointment; Catelyn’s misplaced rage. She was a lioness alone, and she was surrounded by the wolf pack.

“I see you’ve spoken to your son,” Her eyes rested on Catelyn’s as she jerked her sleeve, unceremoniously, up her arm. “He was not wrong,” (Y/n) showed the room the fresh burn on her arm that was already healing to form the word ‘Stark’.

“Damnit Ned.” That seemed to be a common saying of the King’s when he was in the presence of Starks.

“Well,” Catelyn huffed, turning on her husband and Robert, “What do we plan to do about this?”

(Y/n) honestly wondered how the woman managed to get a word out. If (Y/n) crossed her arms so tightly over her chest, she would hardly be able to breath, let alone form a coherent thought.

Robert forced himself from his chair with a sigh. It was before midday, and there had been a feast the previous night. This was far too early for the King to be awake, much less officiating important discussion. “What can we do? It’s a sign from the gods. We can’t ignore it.”

Catelyn was utterly fuming. Her son, her Robb, joined forever to a Lannister. She would not stand for such a thing.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” (Y/n) cut in before Catelyn could burst, “But it sounds to me as though you’re implying I wed Robb Stark.”

Robert snorted out a laugh. “Gods, and here I thought you were one of the smart ones. Turns out you’re as slow as Lancel.” Robert crossed the room and clapped his namesake on the shoulder, pulling the Stark boy into the conversation. “Of course that’s what I mean. Ned raised his sons well. Robb’s a good, strong man, and the heir to Winterfell. You’d be lucky to have him at your side.”

“I’m sure you are correct, my King, but that doesn’t change the fact that I have no intention of marrying Robb Stark.”

Silence.

(Y/n) thought, if she listened carefully, she would be able to hear the breaths of the Kingsguard stationed outside.

Of the rare occasions that nobility were found to be mates and did not marry, there had always been something keeping them apart. Never had it been because one openly refused the other. Why would anyone, noble or otherwise, refuse their perfect match put on this earth by the gods themselves?

“Forgive me,” (Y/n) spoke slowly. She was alone on shaky ground, and she desperately needed to keep the King’s anger in check, “but my hand is my father’s to give away as he sees fit. No one else’s.”

“You would stand against the wishes of your king.”

(Y/n) immediately refuted Robert’s words. “I would stand with the wishes of my family. Wherever that may lead me.”

“You will do as your king commands.” Robert’s hand slipped from Robb’s shoulder, and he took a step towards (Y/n) Lannister.

(Y/n) didn’t bat an eye. “After my father agrees,” was the most she would concede, knowing full well it would take more than a miracle from the Seven to get Tywin Lannister to send her to Winterfell.

“You think your father would refute a match to the future Warden of the North? You Lannisters think yourselves that much better than the rest of us. Don’t you?” Robert stood close enough that flecks of his spit landed on her cheek.

(Y/n) wiped them away with her sleeve and a completely blank expression. “I think nothing, my King. I think I should wait for my father’s approval before I agree to things such as this.”

“Robert, the girl is right,” Ned took a step toward his old friend, but Robert raised his hand in warning, causing the Stark to freeze.

He left his hand in the air in case anyone else dared to interrupt them. “I have had it with you Lannisters. I rule Westeros. I am your King, not Tywin Lannister.”

(Y/n)’s eyes narrowed. She had had it with the King as much as he’d had it with her. Her father didn’t hold the title King of Westeros, but he held all the power of one, more than one if that one was Robert Baratheon. She was more than capable of playing the game, of placating men like Robert. But she was every bit her father’s daughter. She did not stand insults in silence.

Robert saw (Y/n) open her mouth, but all he heard was Tywin Lannister as she said, “Any man who must say, I am the King, is no true King.”

A loud snap echoed through the room, followed by a crack.

Robert Baratheon stood, looking down on his handiwork.

(Y/n) Lannister laid sprawled out on the floor with the force of a hard punch to her jaw that no one had seen coming. For a man well past his prime, Robert Baratheon could still manage all the force in his fists that his hammer had made famous during the Rebellion. The blow had knocked the girl down before anyone could think to stop him, before Ned could pull him back, before she could raise a hand in defense, before she could take a step back to brace.

For years, Robert had dreamed of doing exactly that to Tywin Lannister. Dreamed of knocking the old man back down where he belonged. Dreamed of standing with the Lord of Casterly Rock at his feet. Dreamed of watching the arrogant man bleed the same red as his banners.

This girl, (Y/n), she wasn’t Tywin Lannister. She sounded like her father. She acted like her father. But when Robert looked down at her, he only saw a girl. He had punched a young girl for nothing more than speaking to him.

If he had punched the real Tywin Lannister, he would have lost the offending hand by now. Instead, in his fury, he’d punched the Lannister’s young daughter. He still might lose his hand. The girl was a lion, through and through. She had claws, and one of them was standing right outside.

Another was, apparently, behind him.

Robb Stark pushed the King’s shoulder in his hurry to check the girl. “(Y/n), are you hurt?” The Stark boy took both of her hands in his, helping her as gently as he could, to her feet.

“I will be fine,” (Y/n) slowly brushed down her skirts and gave a smile clearly only meant for Robb. “Thank you.”

“I should take you to the Maester.” Robb clearly meant it to be an offer, but it came out more as an order.

(Y/n)’s shoulder had caught her as she fell, keeping her head from the floor; but the crack as she hit the stone was still a sickening sound. It would echo in the room for years.

Every time Robb saw his mate, he would see the King throwing her to the floor, and remember that he didn’t stop Robert in time. Ned would never be able to speak of Robert as an honorable man again; down in the crypts, he would thank the gods Lyanna hadn’t lived to be his. Catelyn would pause every time she made to speak ill of a Lannister; she would remember Robb helping (Y/n) to her feet. She would remember (Y/n)’s response.

“Thank you, Robb, but I think I’d like my brother.” (Y/n) turned to the door and called out, loud enough to be heard on the other side, “Jaime!”

The door swung open in a second. Jaime had been waiting, ear close to the door, for any word that he could enter the room. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and his eyes darted around the room for what had made the earlier noise.

A bruise was already flowering on (Y/n)’s face, and her dress was pulled askew off her shoulder.

“Would you be so kind as to escort me to the Maester’s?”

Jaime marched forward and caught his sister’s chin, tilting it up and away that he might examine the mark. “Is your maester a good healer, Lord Stark?” Rage dripped from Jaime’s every word, but he did not dare to ask how his sister was hurt. He already knew the answer, and it was one he could not stand to think on for long.

“That won’t be necessary, Jaime.” (Y/n) brushed his hand away and met his gaze. “I’m quite fine. I only need to send a raven.”

“For what purpose?”

How Robert Baratheon had worked up the nerve to question the woman he’d just injured was a mystery to even his oldest friend, but (Y/n) seemed unphased.

She turned to the King, smirking through her pain, “The North truly is beautiful, and I really do think father would appreciate seeing it before winter comes.”

“You-You will do no such thing.” It wasn’t fear in Robert’s voice. Ned was sure of that, but he thought it might have been defeat.

“Oh, I assure you I will.” (Y/n) grabbed her brother’s free hand, leaving the other in a death grip on his sword. The Kingslayer followed her without complaint, walking backwards to keep his eye on the King until they reached the door. “It’s high time Tywin Lannister sees Winterfell. Or do I need to remind you what truly unites the Seven Kingdoms, Robert Baratheon? Because we both know, it’s not your throne.”

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Next Time On... Part Two

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incorrectsmashbrosquotes · 5 years

Text

Reflections of the Demon King

*A bit of a character study of our favorite Demon King. Please enjoy!

This was submitted by @ganondorfthedarklord and we worked together on it. Thanks bro!

Within his personal quarters did the infamous demon king spare glance at tapestry and relic, art and artifact. The Gerudo who stood an immortal king had lived millennia, his memory stretched far and vast, and pieces of himself could be drawn to a time before time itself existed. He was draped in soft scholarly robes over metal boots, black etched over with gold as he allowed himself a moment outside his conflict. As fingers slid across the stitching of textiles from his own time, preserved through extensive magics of his own making, he began to settle into contemplating that long past, back to his youth, considering how he came to be as he was now.

Fingers drifted from art that depicted his home to things far more personal, a wooden mug, roughly carved from a solid chunk. It was not something fit for a king, it was rugged, uneven, but fit for his enormous fingers and shaped comfortably. Even now he recalled the day he received it…

One year. Only one year had passed since he had been crowned King of the Gerudo, and already dozens of the desert tribes had fallen to his might. Some called him the Witch King, others the Dark Master. In the end it didn’t matter to Ganondorf what he was called, so long as they fools knelt before him.

On this day, the one year anniversary of his kingship, the leaders of the tribes he conquered presented him with gifts. Some were extravagant works of gold and silver, others were wickedly sharp weapons. He had received little else, save for a few scrolls containing spells of which he already had mastered. He was mentally dividing up the gifts, intending to use them for more useful pursuits than gathering dust on his shelves, when he was interrupted from his thoughts.

“Your Majesty?” came a shy voice. Ganondorf turned to see a little girl, no older than eleven summers, standing near him, nervously shifting about. She was of the Jabari Tribe, one of his conquests, but there was clearly Gerudo ancestry in her features.

“What?” he questioned, dutifully keeping his voice neutral.

“I… I know that… that I have nothing worthy of you… but I wished to give you a gift anyway.” she said. Without another word she presented a simple wooden cup to him. The Dark King took up the offering, examining it critically. The rough hewn wood was nothing to show off about, but it had obviously been carved with care.

Ganondorf turned to the nervous girl and spoke with clarity something he had never said before.

“Thank you.”

As Ganondorf drank from the cup he inwardly chuckled at the memories of the odd looks he’d received from nobles due to his use of this cup. He never bothered to share the story of it, they had been unworthy to hear it anyway. Simple yes, but it was his. He shook himself from such thoughts and returned his attention to the tapestry before him.

His time before his ascension was a mystery to many, but he remembered it well. He had been born to a young she-warrior whose name he had never learned. It had never truly seemed important really, she had died birthing him after all. Nor did he know his father, save that he was a wandering Hylian Knight who had been taken by the Gerudo for a short time. In truth he had been a child of the Gerudo Tribe, rather than any individual. They had forged him into what he was. They had taught him to stand, to strive, to slay. What need of traditional parents had he then?

Upon his thirteenth summer the wisest and strongest of the Tribal Elders, Koume and Kotake, had taken him into their hands. He knew that they had loved him, but it was not a gentle love. It was a cruel love, hard and sharp like a sword. They had turned him into a weapon of magic and steel. No mistakes had been tolerated, and any he made were punished harshly…

“Fool of pup!” screamed Koume at the prostate child before her. “You are to be King of our people! A savior! And yet you continue to make mistakes that a brain-envenomed Goron wouldn’t make!” she shrieked in Gerudo tongue.

“I… I am sorry, Elder Koume.” he ground out.

For that she blasted him with dark fire that etched into his skin. He took it silently, malice building in his gut. “Never apologize you weak pup! Kings do not apologize! They simply are!” Ganondorf stood, feeling the aches in his muscles. Something was building inside him. Something ancient. Something terrible.

Something very, very, angry.

“Perhaps then, it is your fault.” he said, not fully conscious of his actions. He only knew that what was inside him NEEDED to be free. “Perhaps I make mistakes because my teacher is a wretched, ugly, weak, PATHETIC BAG OF DUST!” he thundered. The world seemed to fade around him, his nose picked up the faint burn of ozone in the air.

“You- you wretched-” Koume never got the chance to finish her sentence as Ganondorf loosed a beast’s roar, and with it a bolt of solid black energy from his mouth. It smashed Koume through solid stone.

With that he fell to the ground. The last thing his senses could grasp before losing consciousness was Kotake walking up and standing over him, a broad smile on her wizened face.

“Finally.” she said.

After that his strength grew in leaps and bounds. He learned every spell his teachers knew, practiced every martial skill his tribe could offer. His nights were consumed by scrolls and books, filled with the sciences and philosophies of the wise and powerful alike. He became voracious, seeking every scrap of knowledge and power he could find. Soon he towered tall above all his peers in both body and mind. The many scars of his pursuits were left untouched, he took pride in the growth drawn from each cut.

The path forward had become clear to him. To be free one must have power, to have power one must be intelligent, one must be strong, one must be cunning, one must be willing to utilize that which was necessary. To be a true sovereign one must be able to overcome all that could question him, and in later ages which he had not yet reached he would come to include the gods among those who must be overtaken. He would learn self-reliance as the only reliance. For then he still prayed to the gods to better his lands and strengthen his might.

Perhaps the only person who ever truly knew him beside himself was his second, a young Gerudo girl who had managed to sneak into his training sessions during that age. For a time, she had been a trusted and wonderful companion a few years younger than himself, sharp of tongue and mind with strength that could hold longer than any other of his kin against him. Such trust was misplaced, he would later learn, as she was not as loyal to him as her own ideas of the Gerudo, and over time their visions of the future would irreconcilably divide. She hid her betrayal well, and it had been wrenching to learn of this treachery.

It was first with hope that he approached Hyrule, while he had long studied the history he was yet young and naive in all practical sense. War had long existed, but there was perhaps some potential for a more peaceful progress. He soon learned the truth of the Hylians.

They were a soft people. A people made weak by wealth and plenty. Their King was nothing like what a king should be. He was like his people, soft and weak. A sorry excuse for a monarch. And slowly,steadily, Ganondorf became angry. These weak creatures hoarded and hoarded all they could, unwilling to share with his own. The so-called blessed races which infested the mountains, fields, forests and hills shared in the plenty, but his own were outcasts in the desert wastes.

His fury could not truly be described. Soon he realized that the only way forward was domination. Control. Conquest.

Ganondorf began with his native home. He turned the Gerudo people from warriors to soldiers. He forged them as they had forged him. An army was born. And one by one, the tribes of the great Southern Desert fell to his rule.

His rule was not as stable as he had anticipated. He was far more young and ignorant than he had believed of himself, his older self understood. That passion, that fury, had not yet been as under control as he had believed and in frustration he made many mistakes which further destabilized his rule. He may be proud and unrelenting, lacking in regret, but one did not grow so powerful without correcting where one faulted or erred.

He had tried a measured hand, but the pride of the tribes he conquered refused to be denied. He was plagued by little rebellions, internal conflicts, and assassination attempts. Slowly he applied more and more pressure upon his conquered peoples. Blood and steel became the law of his rule, but he never went further than what he deemed necessary. For every ten rebels he executed with a swift and brutal hand, another thirty were cowed into submission. He came to realize an important truth: Men do not fear swords. They fear Monsters. And so a monster he became.

It was that philosophy that finally led him to the Triforce, and to Hyrule’s conquest.

But it was in his seventh year of rule and conquest that his greatest failure came. His confidant and friend had betrayed him. Only through his mothers did he even allow suspicion of her, allow himself to question her. It should have been obvious, but he had been blinded by the trust he had placed. Such a mistake he would not make again, and he swiftly discovered another most trusted servant had never been on his side at all. It was rare any saw what he did not, such mistakes boiled in his veins and he cursed and spat. Steadily, rather than the support he had intended, he had lost ground.

Defeat was long and it was attrition combat which finally wore his powers from him. He had total confidence in himself all throughout that fight, he needed to, for he was to conquer the heavens themselves, he had brought Hyrule to heel, he had taken their most sacred relics and children were all that faced him. He did not see the gods behind them, and he fell into his hatred, let it control him in ways he would not allow again so easily.

Many foes had claimed he did not feel as man did, could not see as a person, but something almost all failed to realize is he empathized greatly with those he slew. To manipulate as he has one must truly understand those they are using, and he did not ever act without reason when he had sound mind, but he was ruthless and ceaseless, endless, eternal in his conquest. It was not without consideration that he would end a life, rather he considered each greatly, but of comparison to his goals there was little to decide. Zelda herself had done similar such things in her battles to bring down his reign.

Ganondorf set his sentiments from the ancient past aside and beheld the present as he rose, though the mug never left his hand, to the bright stained windows which peered into the realm beyond. He saw out into the era as it was. Here he stood outside of his time and realm among countless beings of differing origins beyond his own. Such ripe pickings, such choice pawns and pieces, and the most loyal of servants of all time did follow him again. There was much that had happened here. He deliberated on it as he drank deep of his liquid caffeine.

Ironic, that one of the beings who most spent her attention upon him was a goddess of light in her world while the other a powerful witch, one of not insignificant strength and deeply wrapped in darkness herself. He had hesitated to call the bonds shared with them love at first, despite the deliciously debauched acts they participated in, but competition as the two challenged him deeper into the embrace was ever driving, as was his passion. As tightly controlled as it may be, upon release his passion was consuming and he was one to fight in every battle before him, even ones of affection. Those bonds developed much further than he had ever anticipated.

This established, none of the trio possessed the same beliefs, the same ideals, and he well knew they would often come against him no matter how pleasing their time together. It was refreshingly pleasant, though, to take this occasional escape from his constant war. In a way it reminded him of his youth, rejuvenated him. Such bright passion was not as common in him these days, the flare of heat was appreciated. The joining of flesh also produced something he had wanted but not anticipated finding before his final victory — children.

An heir was something Ganondorf long sought despite his immortality. While there had always been many who sought him it was difficult to find one capable enough, enticing enough, powerful enough for him to even lightly consider the idea of truly bedding. He had first come to have a biological one, and he managed two such children with the first of his mates, the witch, but they had not joined him in his cause. The first had become a beacon of justice in his own world, making himself a symbol not unlike Ganondorf himself. The second had trodden a path similar to his own, rebellion against authority and the divine. Although his actions were far more… altruistic in their motivations.

But despite their difference in goals he was still proud of both of them. However, no matter his pride, neither could be his heir.

Then whispers had reached his ears of another child. One so like him yet so very different. A child filled with rage and darkness. A devil in the making, soaked in the blood of genocide and betrayal. He had sought out this child, and the little demon had been everything he had hoped. And so he had his heir. From this child he would forge a scourge upon the Sacred Realm itself. All of creation would one day tremble before this creature… this Angel Fallen Underground.

Ganondorf once more returned attention to the ancient mug as he considered his relations and reflected upon the state of his kin. He would never admit it, but it had been gutting to see what had become of them.

The last and yet living king of the Gerudo was a man well out of time, he had long recognized. Life changed around him, the Gerudo were long dead; while others might question him of the statement they had died millennia ago. What remained of them was a corpse mutilated into something he cared nothing for. Gone was their savage strength, their terrible will. They had been… domesticated by that wretched scourge that was Hyrule.

Independence had died, rebellion gone, their leadership had been gorged out and replaced with one far too similar to that of the Hylians. Worse still they now served under the family of Hyrule. It disgusted him to see such proud resistance fall into line beneath the kingdom he fought. The only value of it was the idea of resurrection, he had forged it once, he could forge it again in the crucible of blood and steel. The world had indeed changed, but never was it to benefit him lest he force it.

Ganondorf contemplated the future, turning from the window toward his maps and plots where much was yet to be subjected and subjugated to his influence.

What still stood before him was Hyrule, and with it the Triforce. It remained difficult, but to him there had never been such a thing as the impossible, merely heightened and difficult obstacles to overcome. Even fate was one to be taken and conquered. Once he finally wretched these things from the gods and their champions he would have all in hand. From there he could forge all existence as he desired. From there he could remove the thrice damned gods from their thrones. They were his truest of enemies, and such cowards they were to hide from him in the heavens behind their champions.

Though he rarely spoke such words he truly respected those two ceaseless opponents, both nearly as stubborn as himself. The princess could meet him in wits, the boy in swords, and though separate they could never defeat him they could gather quite the remarkable forces to lead against him together. Each piece of the pair impressed him. He would have to overcome them alone one day, and he would not have it otherwise. For him his victory must be complete and then he shall be able to end all who would stop him. It must be total, eclipsing, and it shall be, no matter how long it takes. He has lived countless centuries, he can take countless more. Existence will cease before he would do so.

The mug disappeared from his fingers in a mix of black and purple flames, off to a safe location, as did the soft cloth which had cloaked him during this time alone. Donning armor of war made of dark metal detailed in gold and cloaked with crimson beneath fiery hair, the time for contemplation had ended. The time to act neared, he was to convene his forces and prepare for it. Nothing would ever stop his march, only delay, only slow. Fierce fangs glinted in a smirk formed from devious designs taking shape. The giant pair of metal boots moved ever onward to a faint, almost silent, rhythmic click. Always forward.

Because for Ganondorf, forward was the only possibility.

#incorrect super smash bros #super smash bros #incorrect quotes #submission #Smash Bros #Ganondorf #Nabooru #Bayonetta #Palutena #Joker #Captain Falcon #Chara #Legend of Zelda #Kid Icarus #Persona #F-Zero #Undertale

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bae-leth · 5 years

Text

FE3H x LoZ

Hey, I saw that you enjoyed my Zelda AU so I decided to expand upon it! This includes eight students for each house, and even strengths based on the Three Houses weapon types. Also for convenience all of the students are Hylian/Gerudo/basically human.

To set the scene, the Gerudo Empire is in the desert to the west, the Kingdom of Hyrule is in the north and east, and the Ordon Alliance is in the forests to the south. The main religion is the Church of Hylia, and the Officer’s Academy is still in the center of the continent because the name sounds generic enough. The curse of Demise exists, but records of it have been lost to time and none of the students are aware of it (cue emotional revelations and plot twists).

CRIMSON BOARS

Since there are so few Gerudo characters of actual plot relevance, I decided to include Ganon’s other allies from across the series, plus a few wild cards.

Ganondorf - house leader. Heir to the Gerudo Empire. Strong and very physically capable, as well as a firm leader. Strengths: Lance, Brawl, Reason, Authority

Ghirahim - Ganondorf’s cunning retainer. Only really ever thinks about himself and his master. Strengths: Sword, Reason

Cia - used to be a warm, angelic girl when she was little, but has become the opposite since then. She idolizes Ganondorf, but also admires Link from afar. Strengths: Faith, Authority, Flying

Lorenz Zant - a foreign exchange student from Twili, a faraway archipelago. Only friends with the people in his class, and hates everyone else. Especially despises Midna. Strengths: Brawl, Reason, Flying

Urbosa - probably the nicest person in the class. Has a motherly attitude. Very strong and protective of her allies. Strengths: Sword, Bow

Astrid - a quiet girl who is almost always studying. Also has an obsession with fortune telling. Strengths: Faith, Reason

Onox - son of an imperial general. Large and built, and loves training. Always agrees with Ganondorf. Strengths: Axe, Brawl, Heavy Armor

Ruto - daughter of a wealthy noble from Hyrule who became close to the emperor, but she does not always approve of the Empire’s methods. Very flirty, and has many admirers. Strengths: Lance, Riding

AZURE OWLS

These characters are all either Sages, Champions, or Resistance members.

Zelda - house leader. Crown princess of the Kingdom of Hyrule. Extremely smart, and though usually kind, can be cold and relentless on the battlefield. Strengths: Bow, Reason, Riding, Authority

Impa - rescued by Zelda during the Tragedy of Sheikah and has become her faithful retainer since then. Often found accompanying Zelda or praying. Strengths: Sword, Lance, Faith

Revali - son of a renowned warrior in the Kingdom. Thinks very highly of himself and looks down on those who are physically weaker than him. Often trains to the point of intense fatigue. Strengths: Bow, Flying

Mipha - a shy, quiet girl who mostly keeps to her room. Dotes on those who are injured despite her introverted nature. Strengths: Lance, Brawl, Faith

Medli - daughter of a famous musician. Incredibly skilled at playing the harp and dreams of becoming a star as well. Kind to everyone she meets, but has a reputation for being clumsy. Strengths: Axe, Flying, Authority

Byrne - A quiet student who often goes unnoticed. However, he is immensely skilled in battle, which tends to surprise people given how often he disappears during training. Strengths: Sword, Brawl, Heavy Armor

Shad - a scholarly student who is extremely interested in history. Will approach any random student to help him with his research. Unlikely friend to Ashei. Strengths: Faith, Reason

Ashei - the daughter of a noble, but she would rather be a knight than an heiress. Blunt and sometimes downright undignified. Unlikely friend to Shad. Strengths: Sword, Axe, Riding

VERDANT WOLVES

These characters are Link’s friends and companions from throughout the series.

Link - house leader. Future leader of the Ordon Alliance, though born a commoner. Kind and genuine, as well as very charismatic, but hides insecurities. Strengths: Sword, Faith, Riding, Authority

Ravio - son of a merchant family. Very close to Link, almost like a brother. Quite lazy, and would rather scam people than study. Strengths: Axe, Bow, Flying

Midna - the princess of Twili, who came to the Academy as a foreign exchange student. Admired by many for her beauty and charm. Incredibly snarky and mischievous, and often gets into trouble. Strengths: Lance, Reason, Flying

Saria - the youngest student at the Academy. A sweet and charitable girl who loves animals and feels at home around nature. Strengths: Bow, Faith

Daruk - a noble who dreams of becoming an accomplished knight. Very friendly and outgoing, but has a fear of dogs. Strengths: Brawl, Heavy Armor, Authority

Fi - a girl who is very religious and is usually found praying. Very analytical and excels in her studies. Often responds to her peers without emotion, and many have never seen her smile. Strengths: Sword, Flying

Groose - Link’s self-proclaimed rival. Always trying to one-up Link, much to Link’s exasperation. Has a massive crush on Zelda, and is willing to join the Azure Owls for free. Strengths: Axe, Lance, Brawl

Malon - a farmer girl from the Ordonian countryside. Works extremely hard, as it took a lot for her father to send her to the Academy. Known for her distinct singing voice. Strengths: Bow, Reason, Riding

OTHER NOTES

Despite moving some things around, such as their locations on the map and certain events like the Tragedy of Sheikah (Duscur), the nations here are loosely based on those in Three Houses: Hyrule = Adrestia, Gerudo = Faerghus, and Ordon = Leicester. (oh and Twili = Brigid)

Though Hyrule is a KINGDOM and Gerudo is an EMPIRE, Hyrule is larger because Gerudo is still growing and expanding. However by the timeskip Gerudo won’t have grown much because of Hyrule’s declaration of war.

The Tragedy of Sheikah basically went as follows: the people of the Sheikah region were close allies of the royal family, but were then blamed for the mass assassination of several nobles, including the queen. In retaliation, Hyrule massacred the people of Sheikah.

Since elements were pulled from many LoZ games, the three house leaders aren’t based on any specific incarnation. However, if I had to pick, Ganondorf would be from Ocarina of Time, Zelda would be from Breath of the Wild, and Link would be from Twilight Princess.

I haven’t really thought of who would be the leader of the church, or the faculty, or the equivalent of Byleth, but then again it’s not like this has to be an exact copy of Three Houses anyway. However I do think that Telma would make a wonderful stand-in for Manuela.

There are still cats in the Monastery (speaking of the monastery, I don’t have a name for it). Link and Saria give them the most attention.

I hope you enjoyed this!

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notes from bae: OK ROUND TWO.... LET’S TRY SUBMITTING THIS AGAIN....

in short: HJHGDSFGFSGJDFSHD??? JDGFSHGFHS??? I LOVE THIS??? I LOVE THIS??

this is so well thought out im going to cry. instead, I am just going to go through everything in order (prob not ) and scream at things i want to point out

'no one knows about the curse of Demise until later' IM BWUBWUWBWUBBWUB NOO.... NOOO..... THIS IS GOING TO TEAR APART FRIENDSHIPS..... i NEED to see the confrontations after this, because.... that's so heartbreaking and I don't want to imagine it... but i Need to see it :((

i AdOre how you incorporate characters from across the games, too. seeing chars like Byrne, Onox and Astrid make my lil Zelda heart happy...

and speaking of the characters, I love the strengths you gavce them!!! and the backstories... because this REALLy makes me want to see their supports. can you imagine.... Midna and Zant, Ravio and Revali, Groose and Zelda, Groose and everyone, Link and Ghirahim trying to hold a friendly conversation (which. oh dear. doesn’t work)... there is SO MUCH POTENTIAL and i can only IMAGINE!!

if you have any story details sketched out, I NEED to know!! i esp liked how you adapted the tragedy of Duscur to the tragedy of Sheikah, since there’s already hints of hostility towards the Sheikah in 10,000yrs ago-BotW, so it’s definitely not remiss that they wouldn’t be blamed ;; and this also makes me intrigued about Zelda’s motives!! Why does Hyrule declare war? because of her own personal reasons pertaining to the tragedy? in response to the Empire? something else entirely??

same with Ganondorf.... WHAT makes him declare war.... because I don’t think it’s just a case of conquer n conquer..... eyes emoji....

(and ofc our boy Lonk. with the best team, imo.... I Love the Verdant Wolves. would join them ASAP. they look like the house with the most Chaos but ALSO a lot of POWER...)

ESSENTIALLY I JUST NEED STORY DETAILS and house leader interactions!!! because, pre-timeskip, the triforce trio are friendly?? Yes??? And then it all falls apart??? Yes???????

TELMA AS MANUELA. PLEASE. PLEEEEEEAAASE..... she’d be absolutely fantastic!!! I also think we could have Kaepora Gaebora in replace of the white owl at the bulletin boards. Just for some friendly little advice...

and of course!! Link and Saria give the cats the most attention!! Saria plays the ocarina for them, and Link canonically picks them and runs around while giving them cuddles.... EXCELLENT....

I also think Ravio would be a very good replacement for Anna. y’know, just to get the best bargains for the Wolves.... maybe steal for them a house, too.....

LORENZ LOOKING LIKE ZANT I SDJHHDSFH WHY HAVENT I NOTICED THIS BEFORE IM GOING TO CRY. IC ANT LOOK AT LORENZ ANYMORE WITHOUT SEEING ZANT P L E A S E SAVE ME I DIDNT WANT THIIIIS

also? Groose joining the Owls without any recruitment requirements??? I. Groose ily but shUT UP STOP THAT!!! LINK Probably just facepalms mournfully.... who else is going to play around with the Groosenator with him :((

IN SHORT: I LOVE THIS. SO MUCH. IT HAS MADE MY DAY AND I AM GOING TO NEVER STOP THINKING ABOUT IT

#submission #anon #fire emblem three houses #fe16 #loz #legend of zelda #I LOVE THIIS HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #fave #zelda au

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traveller-lover-dreamer · 6 years

Text

Daughter of the Sea, Chapter 8

Pairing: Royal!Tom Holland X Royal/Mermaid!Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: Killing, death, blood, nearly drowning, lots of curses too

This was the fifth inn they went to ever since arriving in Meryndel. Harrison had hoped to find the princess here but the group of Northerners that were left at the Red Apple told them that they had missed the prince and princess’s departure by a single day. A single day and he would have had the chance to see her again. Now he would have to wait for the war to end before seeing her. If he didn’t die before…

Words had apparently reached Meryndel late last night about the war. It was now on everybody’s lips whether it was on the docks or in the market. Everybody was talking about this war. King Faylios had called for his banners in Meryndel and the knights were getting ready. The Garelns, rulers of the city and distant cousins of the Daams, had already asked for every men of age that could wield a sword to assemble at the city’s western gate by the end of the week.

Harrison sat down at the table where the other Northerners were currently eating a mutton stew, a rare meal in the South. Ha had gotten used to eating fish during all the years he had spent in Azkapoor and to eat something else was still a bit weird to him. At the same time, it reminded him of his childhood and each day he grew more restless at the thought of getting back to where he belonged. Right now he didn’t know if that was by your side or in the North… but the North was getting more appealing every day.

“I say we join the army”, Lord Pettyfer suggested for the third time that day. “We’d be of more use on the inside.”

“What if somebody recognises us?” Lord Joysner replied. “We’d be of no use dead.”

“We’ll be of no use here anyway”, Lord Pettyfer insisted. “The North needs us and if we can help them from this side of the Gate…”

“They know Harrison a tad too well”, Lady Ollister said. “This won’t work. And the Southerners won’t accept a woman in their ranks.”

“You two can stay here then”, Lord Pettyfer said. “I don’t want to wait for death to come get me here, I’m going.”

Most of the other Northerners agreed with him. They wanted to fight and infiltrating the Southerner’s army would give them an advantage that could be useful in this war. Harrison wanted to go too. He knew it was dangerous and probably a lot more for him but if they pretended to be common people he didn’t have to worry about a thing. They’d be put on the first line if a battle ever came and they’d just have to turn around and fight the true enemy instead.

This could also be a way to prove to everyone that he was a true Northerner and not a Southerner’s puppet. He was sick of his own people thinking he was just some kind of traitor awaiting the moment to stab them in the back. If this could prove where his true allegiance was, then he was going to do it.

“I’d like to come with you too”, Harrison said. “And before you say you don’t need me, let me tell you this: I know the weaknesses of every men that ever was at court. I’m really observant and sometimes it pays.”

“Is that really useful?” Lord Pettyfer asked.

“You tell me”, Harrison answered. “I can tell you for sure that Lord Talenta’s obsessed with killing and that he should be your first target if you were to murder someone. Lord Blackfyre should be a close second target. He’s always with the king and he’s his most important counsellor.”

“King Faylios would be mad to bring his right hand with him”, Lady Ollister said. “He needs someone to rule the South while he’s off to conquer the North…”

“Or die trying”, interjected Lord Joysner.

“Or die trying”, Lady Ollister repeated. “I don’t think we have to fear his presence with the king.”

“You may be right”, Harrison admitted. “I’m just saying I know where to hit and who to hit first if that ever may be of use.”

“It could be”, Lord Pettyfer said. “But what tells us you wouldn’t just betray us?”

“I’m a Northerner”, Harrison said. “I was born a Northerner and I want to die a Northerner. My family is an old family in Londir…”

“The Osterfields lost all credibility when your father…” started Lord Joysner.

“I was talking about my mother’s house”, Harrison said. “Not my father’s. My father wasn’t an Osterfield. And that’s the point. I want to bring my family’s honour back.”

Lord Pettyfer chuckled. “You’re the last Osterfield. I can see why you would want to do that. You can come if you want to but be aware that we’ll watch you. First sign of treachery and you’ll be six feet under.”

“Fair”, Harrison agreed. “But you don’t have to worry about this, I’m the sword that came from ice.”

Lady Ollister whistled. “I see someone still know his family’s saying.”

“I didn’t come from water”, Harrison said, “but from ice.”

“Down here the sun’s probably melted you”, Lord Joysner jested.

Harrison shook his head, chuckling lightly with the other Northerners. It felt great to have said that. Although his thoughts tended to get back to you, his heart was somewhere else. He wanted to be a Northerner, he wanted to be the sword that came from ice.

Perhaps if you would have been there, he wouldn’t have been thinking this. He would have been too caught up in your eyes to even remember his origins but now he did and they were calling for him.

Harrison wasn’t prepared for what was to come. He wanted to be a hero but common people weren’t heroes. Since they were pretending to be some, the Northerners always ate their meal last as they made the journey from Meryndel to Lylas. They didn’t have tents to sleep in and they were always far from the head of the column, where their targets were.

There were three of them. Lord Talenta, Lord Krysko and the king himself. Harrison didn’t believe that killing the king was a good idea but killing the head of the army could be a good idea. Both of the men were far from here though, already in Lylas.

Lord Krysko was the envoy sent by the king to bring words of the war to Meryndel. The king had been wise enough not to send a bird and the man had been slow enough not to get caught by the Northerners. This was a problem though: the Garelns knew that the Northerners had gone to Meryndel.

They were long gone from the city when they had heard this. Harrison had been worried about Lady Ollister, who had stayed behind when they had left, but he knew that the woman could protect herself. He was more worried about the third group, which contained the rest of the noblewomen, all of whom couldn’t defend themselves. Lady Ollister had promised to take care of them though, so really there was no reason to worry.

Traveling with a whole army was much longer than with a smaller group, Harrison realized on the third week of walking. The men were starting to get tired and there were more quarrels each day. He tried to stay away from them though and at the same time tried to gain the officers’ trust. If he wanted to get close enough to murder Krysko, he had to be invited to his tent at some point.

He had decided to do the deed himself on the second week. There was no other way to gain the Northerners’ trust. So every day Harrison tried to be the perfect little soldier, offering to help whenever he could.

That gained him a great reputation amongst the commoners and soon enough he was named second to Officer Kravinzhy, who was at the head of the commoners. But right now, Harrison was sitting next to the fire with a group of Southerners.

“We all wish to accomplish great things in this war”, was saying Jamesh, a seasoned warrior.

Seasoned because this wasn’t his first war. He had been part of the first conquest of King Faylios a decade ago.

“All I want to do is to be able to fuck someone else than my wife for a little while”, he jested and the men around the fire erupted with laughter.

That Harrison couldn’t get used to. The commoners had a way of acting that seemed completely vulgar to him. It made him feel uneasy, especially when they made jests about killing the Northerners’ prince and then fucking the princess in front of his dead eyes. At least, Harrison knew you were safe somewhere on the Mermaid Sea, if that could actually be called safe.

“Only the nobles can fuck the camp followers, Jamesh, keep dreaming”, another man replied.

“That’s what I do at night, when the redhead is sucking me”, Jamesh replied which again caused an eruption of laughter around the fire.

Harrison shook his head, getting up from his place.

“Where you goin’, pretty boy?” Jamesh asked.

“Takin’ a piss”, Harrison answered as he walked away.

He walked aimlessly for a moment, until he heard a scream somewhere on his left. He ran to the sound only to see none other than Lord Krysko dragging a redheaded camp follower by the hair.

“Excuse me, m’lord”, Harrison said. “What are you doing?”

“Shut the fuck up, you commoner”, Krysko spatted, his words slurred by his visibly drunken state. “I’m going to fuck that bitch back in my tent. Wanna join?”

Harrison just stood there for a moment, trying to figure what was going on.

“An handsome lad like should know better than to say no to a lord”, Krysko added as the silence got longer.

“M’lord, I don’t…” Harrison started.

“You don’t bed men?” Krysko asked. “When I was your age I didn’t either but then I realized that sex is much more than fucking a cunt.”

The girl tried to get out of his grip and he slapped her roughly.

“You coming or not?” Krysko repeated.

Harrison had two choices: kill the man right now or kill him when they’ll be in the tent. The first option seemed better but there would be witnesses.

At the same time, Harrison couldn’t believe that Krysko didn’t recognise him. Especially since they had been at court together more than once.

“Let go of me”, the redhead cried as she hit Krysko in the crotch.

The man let go of her and she crawled away from him as he fell to the ground, his hands on his crotch.

“You fucking cunt, I’ll have your head for this”, he spat.

“You won’t”, Harrison interjected. “You should know better than to put your hands on a lady.”

“She’s no lady, she’s a whore”, Lord Krysko said as Harrison walked closer to him. “Who are you to tell me this?”

Harrison put his hand on the hilt of his sword as he scanned his surroundings. Apart from the girl, there was no one around.

“I’m the ice come to tear your heart apart”, he said as he unsheathed his sword.

Lord Krysko didn’t have the time to react or was way too drunk to do something about it. Harrison thrusted his sword in the man’s heart and he died without having done a thing to defend himself. Adrenaline streamed in Harrison’s system and for a moment he felt powerful.

“You killed him”, the girl shrieked.

Harrison quickly took his sword out of Lord Krysko’s heart. He wiped the blade clean on Lord Krysko’s linen shirt, which was quickly turning a darker shade of brown before putting it back in its scabbard.

“Shhh”, he said to the girl.

He walked to her and grabbed her by the arm.

“Let’s get away from here before someone sees us”, he whispered.

The girl didn’t resist as he pulled her as far from the body as possible. They crossed half the camp before Harrison felt safe enough to stop.

“I saved you from getting raped”, he told the girl.

“Why did you do this?” she asked with a shaky voice.

Harrison realized that she was about to cry and suddenly the adrenaline left his system. He felt extremely tired all of a sudden and especially horrified about what he had just done. He had killed a man without even hesitating.

“To save you from getting raped”, he answered, matter-of-factly. “You should be thanking me.”

“Lord Krysko was an important man”, the girl said as tears started streaming down her face. “You shouldn’t have killed him.”

“You’ll need to stay silent about this”, Harrison whisper-shouted. “We wouldn’t want me getting caught.”

“Why’s that?” she asked. “You’re a murderer.”

“Because I’ll tell them that you told me to do it because you didn’t want Krysko’s dirty little hands on you again”, Harrison said. “They’ll hang you for this.”

“They won’t believe you”, she said, but she seemed defeated. “You’re just a commoner.”

“More than that I’m a man”, Harrison said. “My words would weigh more than yours.”

The girl lowered her head as a couple of tears slipped on her cheeks.

“I saved you from getting raped”, Harrison repeated as he was trying to convince himself that he had done the right thing. “Now, you should get as far from here as possible.”

With his free hand he reached for the hidden pocket inside of his shirt. He took a gold coin from it and then put it in the girl’s hand.

“This will pay for whatever you need as you make your way back to Meryndel”, he said. “If people ask you question, say that you met a rich man who asked you to wait for him at the Red Apple Inn.”

The girl’s eyes were round as she looked at the gold coin in her hands as if it was the first time she had seen one. It took Harrison a moment to realize it probably was.

“Thank you”, the girl said. “Don’t you want anything from me?”

Harrison looked up and down her frame. He could see her curves through her stained silk dress, but he looked away. He didn’t sleep with whores. Hell, he didn’t sleep with anybody, a whore wouldn’t be his first.

“Only your silence, my lady”, he replied politely.

“Then my silence you’ll have”, she said before kissing him on the cheek and running away.

Harrison just stared at her until she disappeared out of view. He hesitated to walk back to the fire where the other men were. He looked around him, noticing a few men nodding approvingly to him. That’s when he realized that they thought he probably slept with the girl before sending her away. An alibi. Great. He hadn’t thought about this at first.

Murder. Murderer. Harrison had never thought he had it in him to kill someone. Especially not so easily. Without a single doubt, he had thrusted his sword in the man’s heart. Whether he had done it for the North or for the sake of the girl, he didn’t know, but the result was the same. A man had died tonight and he had died because of him.

Harrison knew of a million ways that this could have gone wrong. Somebody could have seen him killing Krysko, somebody could have connected the dots between him being with Krysko’s personal whore and the lord dying, but nobody did. Nobody thought a commoner would murder Lord Krysko.

When they found the body the next morning, Harrison expected someone to come to him, but nobody did. Quarrels happened a lot lately and everybody said it only was another one of those that resulted into Lord Krysko’s death. That’s when Harrison realized the man wasn’t actually liked. People called him a man fucker and they spat on his corpse instead of giving his body back to water, of burning it or of burying it.

It didn’t make it easier. The first few days Harrison felt like a monster and more than once he looked at his reflection on his blade, wondering if he should just thrust it into his own stomach and be done with it.

That’s when Lord Pettyfer found him and patted him on the shoulder.

“I never expected you had it in you, son”, he said.

“What?” Harrison asked. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve talked to everybody else”, Lord Pettyfer explained. “Are you telling me a Southerner killed Lord Krysko?”

Harrison shook his head. “I didn’t know I had it in me either, if I’m being honest”, he whispered.

“Son, you’ve proven yourself”, Lord Pettyfer said. “I swear it to the gods that I’m going to make sure you are recognised for what you have done when we’ll be back in Londir.”

“Recognised as a murderer?” Harrison muttered.

“No”, Lord Pettyfer shook his head. “As someone who knew what to do in times of crisis to help his people.”

The lord walked away from Harrison then and Harrison wondered if he was supposed to feel better. Maybe. Probably. Had murder really brought back the honor of his family so easily?

For the first time in weeks his thoughts went back to you. He imagined the look of horror on your face if you were ever to learn about what he had done and he felt sick. In a matter of weeks he had turned into a monster.

Someone patted him on the shoulder, which startled him. Harrison spun around, his hand on the hilt of his sword. It was only Lord Joysner.

“Good job”, the man said. “I would have been more subtle if I had been you, but the result would have been the same.”

“What would you have done?” Harrison asked.

“Poison”, Lord Joysner said. “A small blade between the ribs or poison in one of his meals.”

“You’re an Assassin”, Harrison realized.

The Assassins were a secret order up North. They were at the service of the crown and they eliminated the enemies of the crown when they were asked to. There were always two Assassins training at the same time and never more than two real Assassins alive. At the top of the order was the Master Assassin.

Lord Joysner chuckled. “King Dominic figured it was a good idea to send his Master Assassin with his son. To protect him or to help him if ever came the need to. And it did. But you were quicker.”

“Does it ever become easier?” Harrison asked.

“Killing people?” Lord Joysner asked. “Thrusting a sword into one’s heart never get easier. Poisoning a meal and disappearing in the night is easier. Cleaner, if I’m being honest.”

Harrison sighed deeply. “I did what had to be done.”

“Indeed, you did”, Lord Joysner approved. “You could learn how to give the gift of death if ever you would want to.”

“Me?” Harrison asked. “Why would you choose me as an apprentice?”

Lord Joysner chuckled. “You’re nobody. You’re a hostage, half of the North doesn’t know who you are, the other half despises you. Being an Assassin would give you the opportunity to be whoever you want. Right now, I’m Lord Joysner but back in Londir I’m nobody. The true Lord Joysner is still in his castle in the Snow Valley. I was born a commoner and I climbed the ladder up to being the Master Assassin. You could do too.”

Harrison stayed silent as his mind ran a mile per hour in his head. Would being an Assassin be a good idea?

“The Assassins are the most respected order in the North”, Lord Joysner added. “I’ll let you think about it.”

The man turned around and started walking in the other direction.

“Wait!” Harrison exclaimed. Lord Joysner turned around. “I’m in.”

A small smile formed on Lord Joysner’s lips.

“Tomorrow, at dawn”, he said. “You know where to find me.”

Tom stared at the wall of the cabin. The lights were flickering, but not as much as during the storm. The storm had come and gone in a few hours and now all that was left to do was to watch the cabin wall, hoping that nothing had happened during the storm. Hoping that you would walk right back in as if nothing had happened.

You were gone, most certainly dead. They had thrown you overboard in the middle of the storm and you had been swallowed by the waves. Tom had tried to run after you, but then two pirates had stopped him. He had tried fighting them but all his strength had left him the moment he had seen you dying.

He didn’t know how long it had been since the storm. He was just watching the same wooden wall, hoping things would change. How could the gods be so cruel as to take you from him already? And how could he stop the war now that you were gone?

There was a noise at the cabin’s door and the captain walked in. Tom glanced at him.

“Storm coming back”, the captain said. “Gods mad. Who are you?”

Tom’s eyes trailed back to the cabin wall. So sacrificing you had been useless.

“Who are you?” repeated the captain as Tom stayed silent.

“You know who I am already,” Tom eventually exploded. “And you’ve killed the only person who could have stopped the war.”

“War?” asked the man.

“Between the North and the South”, Tom explained.

“You trouble”, the captain growled.

At the same moment there was a loud bang outside of the cabin. Men screamed and then the ship was shaken as if a giant was playing with it. The captain ran out of the cabin and Tom followed. Nothing could have prepared him to the sight.

A sea serpent was currently on the deck of the cog, which was sinking quickly. Tom figured that there was a hole in the hull of the ship probably caused by the loud noise earlier.

Before he could do something, the sea serpent moved and Tom was jerked forward. His head hit the ship’s rail and his body went limp. He lied there for a moment, trying to clear his mind from the fog that was slowly creeping in.

The sea serpent tightened its grip around the cog and suddenly it broke in two. Tom couldn’t do nothing to stop himself from rolling towards the beast. He tried to hold on to the rail but he couldn’t get a hold of it and soon enough he dove into the water.

There was a flash of green and blue as the sea serpent swam away. Tom swam to the surface only to see a couple of men holding on to the fragments of the ship. He swam towards them but then one of the men disappeared under water. As if something had pulled him down.

Tom frantically tried to reach some debris, but then another men disappeared. He looked underneath himself and could see something moving quickly in the water. Tom felt something gripping his ankle and suddenly he was pulled underwater too.

He tried to fight and swim back to the surface but it was impossible. The thing holding him was stronger and was going deeper and deeper into the water.

The pressure was getting awful and Tom felt his lungs burning. He looked down to the thing, which was looking back at him. His heart stopped in his chest at the sight of the ghost under him.

There was blood in the water. And meat. Your fangs were already secreting poison. You swam around, holding your trident tight. You would have to fight to get your food.

You saw two of your sisters right beneath the surface. They were pulling their food under the water. You decided to do as they did, since they had been born long before you.

Father, give me the food I need, you prayed.

You saw some legs over your head. An easy target. You swished your silvery tail and swam toward the surface.

You had been born a few hours before, maybe a day or two. You didn’t remember much before the Kiss. Only some eyes. They were haunting you when you closed your own eyes but apart from that everything was gone.

Your sisters were singing all around you and you joined them. A few hours ago they had told you a feast was going to be held, when Jhyscarios would be ready. The sea serpent had guided you out of the palace and to the oval overhead, which apparently was full of food.

You were glad for it: the fish you had killed earlier had tasted vaguely like something else, something disgusting. You had barely been able to keep it down, but your sisters had claimed you one of theirs and it was time to celebrate.

Men. They said men had killed your first incarnation. But now you were reborn and seeking vengeance.

You grabbed the ankle of the man swimming over your head and then pulled him under the water. You had to let him drown before you ate him, they said the meat tasted better.

Your fangs ached in your mouth. You couldn’t wait to bite into the flesh. You were hungry, so hungry you wondered if you should drown another man too. One of your sister swam towards you.

Mine.

You held your trident in front of you, protecting your meal. She tried to attack you and before you even thought about it you threw your trident in her direction. She hissed and swam out of its trajectory and then she swam away.

You followed your trident and caught it before stopping. You were deep enough. You raised your head. The man was surrounded by a white halo caused by the light over the water. You noticed he was looking down on you. You could tell he was slowly losing strength. But then your gaze met his gaze and there was a flash in your mind. The sound of some breathing, some words whispered against your skin, the taste of a kiss, a kiss before the Kiss.

His brown eyes were looking down on you and he seemed scared. And suddenly you realized he was going to die and it would be because of you. How could you eat someone if they were looking at you like that?

A swish of your tail and you were swimming back to the surface. One of your sisters looked at you curiously but you didn’t stop. The man needed oxygen, that’s why they never went under water. If you gave him oxygen maybe he wouldn’t die.

Your head pierced the surface of the water and it burned you. You screamed but then you heard him breathing and it was all you needed to hear. You plunged your head in the water again and noticed your sisters swimming in your direction.

Not this one, you told them.

He’s a man, Laylavia said. Men are food.

Not. This. One, you repeated.

You noticed the sea serpent swimming towards you and you let go of the man’s ankle. He swam a little with his useless legs and you noticed him looking in the water.

You gripped your trident with both of your hands as your sisters formed a circle underneath you.

Fight Jhyscarios, then, Laylavia said.

She was the leader of the shoal. She was the only one who could give the Kiss. You were alive because of her.

You knew the laws. When you had gotten born, all five of the laws had been imprinted in your mind.

Number one: never defy the leader of the shoal.

Number two: only the leader of the shoal can give the Kiss.

Number three: the shoal is the only family.

Number four: only the leader of the shoal can control the sea serpents.

Number five: man are food. Only food.

There were ways to go around the rules. If you broke the first one and won, you became the shoal’s leader. Every sister could technically give the kiss. Some sisters remembered their old life and decided to get back to their true family. Every sister could speak to the serpents, it was up to them to listen if they wanted to. Last but not least, some men were kept. For amusement. But to be able to keep a man you had to defeat a serpent. Few dared to defeat a serpent and fewer got out of it alive.

You swam around the sea serpent as it created a cloak of poison around its head. You had to be careful not to swim in the contaminated water. The serpent plunged forward and with a strong swish of your tail you got out of the way. You avoided the cloak of poison and then turned around to see the serpent moving down. You followed it carefully, waiting for it to turn around. When it did, your trident was ready.

Help me, you told the serpent as it swam towards you.

The serpent opened its jaws and you saw the rows of fangs in its mouth. A single bite and you would die. You didn’t move and waited for it. Once the serpent was close enough you put your trident in front of you and thrusted it in the upper jaw of the serpent.

The momentum of the creature sent you swimming back a few meters, but eventually it stopped. You let go of the trident and swam around to look at your sisters.

They were shocked. You could tell by the looks on their face. Nobody had ever killed a serpent so fast, especially not a new born. You knew because of the memories of Laylavia. They had been transferred to you when you had been born.

I’m keeping him, you told your sisters.

Laylavia swam towards you.

Men can’t survive the kiss for more than a day, she told you. He will die eventually and then we’ll feast on his body.

At least you could keep him for a day. You swam to him, careful not to put your head out of the water. You gently grabbed his hand. It was shaking, that you could tell. You pulled him under the water and he tried to fight it. You were way stronger than him though. You grabbed his face and closed your eyes. You put your lips on his and kissed him softly. He melted into you but then your poison filled his mouth and he started to fight. His body eventually went limp.

You looked at him curiously.

Is he dead? you asked.

He’ll be sleeping for the first few hours, Laylavia said. Then he’ll wake for the rest and he’ll eventually drown.

Somehow this scared you. More than that, it terrified you. The thought of that man dying terrified you more than anything. You carefully grabbed his hand as your sisters started to swim toward the bottom of the sea, towards Klyapolis.

The swim wasn’t long, not even an hour. The hardest part was the dark space between the surface and the city, where there wasn’t any light. You could barely see anything, you had to rely on the sixth sense that had come when you had been born. You just had to close your eyes and sing. When you sang, you could see all around you. You could feel where there were obstacles and the general direction of the city.

When you reached the city, you directly went to the palace, to find the room they had given to you. There were crystals in the walls and they were lighting up the whole palace.

You put the man in your room and then swam around him for a moment. It was weird: he didn’t have a tail, only two useless legs. As you looked at him, you remembered why he had legs. To walk. In the upper world people didn’t swim around, they walked.

You had only been born for a day or two and here you were being intrigued by the upper world. It was something that had been taken from you. That world. And a part of you belonged up there. You knew it now that you were swimming with the man.

You stopped swimming around for a moment, sinking to the sandy floor. You cleaned your silver and purple scales with the brush your sisters had given you as you thought.

Why was the man on the oval? And why had you been on it? You felt as if it was important, but you couldn’t quite remember why. Were 24 hours enough for you to remember it?

You swam back to the man and put a hand on his cheek. He didn’t move but his skin was warm underneath your touch. You pulled him toward you and then let gravity pull you to the ground. You laid him on the ground and then brushed your hand through his hair. It was soft under your fingertips and suddenly another memory came back. You were dancing underneath the moonlight.

Who was that man? He was something to you, now you were slowly remembering. But what? What was he?

You sighed deeply. As long as he didn’t open his eyes you wouldn’t know what was going on. And who he was. So you stayed next to him, waiting for him to wake. You ate some oysters as you waited, along with a variety of algae growing in the greenhouse under the castle.

Klyapolis had been built a thousand of years before men even walked the earth. Back then, mermaids and mermen swam the Mermaid Sea and the Emerald Sea all the way up to the Ice Ocean. Mermaids and mermen cohabited in harmony and they leaded the world. The Storm came then and a few mermaids and mermen, curious about what was in the world above, had disappeared.

It took years and years for them to reappear but when they did they didn’t have a tail anymore. They were on boats and they walked and you called them the Walkers. Humans they were actually. Nobody knew if they actually were the lost mermaids and mermen.

Years of tension started. The War started eventually, when the mermen started to blame to mermaids for the disappearance of the lost mermaids and mermen. They said the mermaids knew they could transform into Humans and they had tricked the mermen into following them so they could conquer the ground.

The mermen had a disadvantage in the war: the sea serpents couldn’t hear their singing. So when the mermaids came with the sea serpents, the mermen couldn’t nothing. They were exterminated up to the last one. The Dark Age started.

The mermaids had a long life expectancy. The oldest ones were over five hundred years old and they were called the Ancients. They had been young when the war had happened and they were the ones who made the laws. The shoal’s leaders had to obey to them.

Eventually, the mermaids started attacking ships with the help of their loyal sea serpents. They started to feast on Human’s flesh, on man’s flesh as a consequence of the war. Shark attacks began around that time because the beasts were attracted by the smell of blood. Soon enough the mermaids realized their numbers were lower as mermaids died of old age or of shark attacks.

That’s when a woman fell into the waters of the Mermaid Sea. The first shoal leader, Klya, gave the kiss to the woman and the transformation began. The mermaids realized that women could be transformed into mermaids again and that’s when the sisters appeared.

Klya was killed by a shark when she was entering her fourth century. The sisters of her shoal built Klyapolis in her honour and the Ancients declared domicile in the palace, where most of the sisters lived too.

Nowadays, most of the mermaids were sisters. Some of them had been born in the waves though, after a mermaid had used a man to have a child. If the child was a boy, he never lived long enough to see Klyapolis but if it was a girl, the baby had a tail and it was a mermaid.

Men could receive the Kiss too. But the Kiss never induced the Transformation onto a man, which meant the mermen were a lost specie. But as you swam around the man in your room, you wondered if there was a way to induce the Transformation onto a man.

The water around you started to smell like fear. The man was waking up. You put your hand on his chest, to stop him from moving. When his eyes opened you noticed they were covered by some kind of film, to protect his eyes from the salt of the water. He also had something like bubbles underneath his nose, something to help him breathe under the water. When the bubbles were going to pop, he would drown. You didn’t want that happening, not until you knew who he was and what he meant to you before you were reborn.

The man’s eyes found yours and he tried to get away from you. It took him a couple of seconds to realize he was under the water. And not drowning. You noticed that he was moving his mouth. A curious sight.

You don’t have to be afraid, I won’t hurt you, you told him.

He stopped fighting your grip and just stared at you blankly.

I’m Salia, you said. I was born two days ago.

The man shook his head and you turned yours on the side curiously.

You can talk to me, you gently said. Use your mind.

You didn’t actually know if he could. There was a reason why the mermen had never been able to speak to the serpents and that reason was because their mind’s voice was silent. Or so you thought.

What’s happening? asked a male voice in your head.

So they could talk. You smiled gently, feeling your fangs piercing the skin of your lips.

I’ve given you the Kiss, you explained. You can be in Klyapolis for the next 24 hours. Probably more 22 now.

Y/N, the man said.

You looked at him, wondering what he had just said.

Y/N, I don’t know what happened to you, he said. I thought you were dead.

I wasn’t, you answered. I was given birth.

You’re a mermaid now, the man stated.

I’m a sister, actually, you corrected him. I wasn’t born in the waves first. I was a Human but then I was giving birth and now I’m a sister.

No, the man refused. You’re Y/N, daughter to King Faylios. We were on our way to stop the war between the North and the South when there was a storm.

Half of the words he had just said made no sense. You let go of him and swam around for a moment.

I don’t understand, you said. I’m Salia and I was born two days ago.

And before that you were Y/N, the man insisted.

Who are you? you asked him.

You don’t remember me? he inquired, seemingly hurt.

I don’t remember anything from before my Transformation, you admitted.

The man sat and brushed a hand in his hair.

We need to go to the North, the man insisted. We were supposed to get wed to stop the war.

Something in the corner of your mind told you he was right. It told you to listen to him, to remember who you were. But you were Salia now and nothing made sense.

You’re going to drown, you told him. And then we’ll feast on you. That’s what’s going to happen.

With a swish of your tail, you swam away from the man. He tried to follow you but his legs were useless. You got out of your room and closed the door behind you. The man wasn’t strong enough to open it, so you knew he wouldn’t get out.

You had to speak to the Ancients.

Read part nine here!

Don’t be afraid to leave some feedback, it motivates me to keep writing!

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kryptaria00q · 6 years

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tanouska replied to your post

“Teaser Tuesday”

How essential is it to have watched Merlin before reading the final fic? Or is some knowledge about it (gained through Tumblr osmosis) enough?

It’s really, REALLY not essential.

Merlin was visually lovely, full of the most absurd anachronisms, and riddled with plot holes to the point where I wonder if they let a bunch of cats write it. On catnip. The good stuff, not the cheap supermarket brand.

I’m hopefully filling in all the blanks so readers can enjoy the fic without watching the show, especially since it’s a modern AU. One of my betas, @catscraftsandcommentary, hasn’t watched the show, and @leavesdancing has only watched a few episodes.

Also, @leavesdancing has done an AMAZING genealogy/history of the Pendragon Royal Family, which has held the UK throne since before any reliable recorded history.

But if you’re interested, there’s info under the cut, along with some pics and links...

In the show, Arthur starts out as an entitled, spoiled, bullying asshole (forgive the quality, but https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AQXEqfKU5jQ is his first encounter with Merlin). He develops a conscience, learns to trust Merlin... and then reverts to being 10x worse. This has led to some truly glorious, epic fix-it fics.

Arthur and Morgana are half-sisters. Arthur’s mother is Ygraine, who died giving birth to him, and Morgana’s mother is Vivienne, who also had another child, Morgause, leading to a complicated line of half-siblings. Here’s Arthur, Merlin, Morgana, and Morgause, in order from left to right (note that Arthur, Merlin, and Morgana are all around the same age):

In the fic, Morgause is from the Netherlands.

The dragon, Kilgharrah ships Merlin and Arthur something fierce. ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BKL7q6yb8ME )

Kilgharrah is also played by John Hurt, who played the War Doctor in Doctor Who. This is the inspiration for Kilgharrah’s eccentric wardrobe in the fic (minus the sonic screwdriver).

Gaius is Merlin’s uncle and the Court Physician. In the fic, he’s also Q’s father and the Royal Apothecary, which is a legit position in the British Royal Household. In both, he has magic, though in the show, he doesn’t dare use it without great need.

By the way, when someone uses magic, their eyes usually (but not always) change color. For Merlin and Druids in general (I think?) it’s gold.

In the show, Nimueh is a High Priestess of the Old Religion who does some fairly erratic things, and then Merlin kills her. ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_rhViLkTKbY )

Guinevere is awesome. In the show, she’s not noble -- she’s Morgana’s servant. The more Guinevere and Arthur fall in love, the more revealing her dresses get. Again, NO LOVE TRIANGLE IN MY FIC. She ends up with Lance, and any crush she and Arthur may or may not have doesn’t turn to angst and misery.

The show introduces knights who are prominent in mythology, only to kill them off ten minutes later. The core of Arthur’s knights pictured below, from left to right (and note that everyone but the two guys on the ends are standing on boards or boxes to make them taller, HA):

Percival: In the show, he kind of wanders in out of nowhere, as Lance’s huge pal, and helps Arthur reclaim the throne after Morgana conquers Camelot. He’s huge. Like, mountain huge. This is why he gets the short sleeved mail shirt.

Gwaine: Spelled Gwaine, not Gawaine, he’s absolutely awesome. He loves drinking, tavern brawls, and women (and Merlin - LOTS of Gwaine/Merlin shippers out there), and while he verges on being That Creepy Guy around a woman he likes, he also can (eventually) take no for an answer. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KRe5vj3VIcg He’s like the puppy who you take home from the shelter only to find out he’s a purebred, and even though he ate your sofa, you still let him sleep on your bed because he’s just that cute. The show turns him into comic relief in later episodes, which is really a disservice. If you watch one episode of the show, watch Gwaine (season 3 episode 4).

Lancelot: Not of noble birth, actually ends up being a cage fighter at one point (season 2 episode 4). The show includes a love triangle. I don’t, because I hate love triangles when polyamory is right there as a perfectly good solution. He’s played by Venezuelan actor Santiago Cabrera.

Arthur: The royal prat. Merlin really wants to turn him into a sheep. This isn’t specified in the show, but he does suggest that if someone wants to kill Arthur, he’d be delighted to help them.

Elyan: Guinevere’s brother, son of a blacksmith. He really didn’t get as much of a spotlight as he deserved.

Leon: The oldest of the knights, who served Uther before serving Arthur.

In the show, Mordred starts out as a Druid child who’s caught up in Uther’s anti-sorcery vendetta. Merlin, Morgana, and Arthur help him escape, but it all goes wrong.

In the fic, Mordred shows up a bit older, affiliated with Nimueh, but still looking like a sulky teen/twenty-something.

There’s also the Blood Guard, an order of warrior-priests skilled in magic and combat, sworn to protect the High Priests/High Priestesses of the Old Religion.

In the show, Cenred is a king who Morgause uses to get her hands on his army before she kills him. He’s played by Tom Ellis, who also plays Lucifer, which amuses me to no end. In my fic, he’s Morgause’s brand new husband.

The only other thing the fic really references is the Great Purge, which is the period in Uther’s reign when he went mad and ordered the execution of anyone even suspected of association with sorcery. In the fic, the Great Purge happened so long ago, it’s been forgotten by history -- but not by the Druids, who’ve kept the memory alive in their stories and warnings. They are, in fact, prepared to never let it happen again.

The fic (sadly not the show) also features two borzoi.

And references to sheep, including Merlin’s favorite, the Lincoln Longwool.

#tanouska #31-3

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twinfanfics · 6 years

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The tale of the three head beast: The chosen children

Chapter 6 is here! two days late but here...

The tournament begins and Taichi learn about his rivals and fight against his first opponent, will his ability be enough to conquer the throne?

You can read this DIgimon GoT au since the beginning in Fanfiction and AO3. The new chapter after the jump:

Chapter six: The first round

The combats had started. Taichi could hear the hits of the swords and the screams of the battle happening outside the antechamber.

Shadows around him and the little windows lightings just the necessary, it is a space for meditating before the combat, as soon as his pupil Takuya ends his battle he could go for the gold and defiant his own opponent, Motomiya Davis, a subordinated of the Sea King . If the subordinate was as skilled as his king Taichi would had no problem triumphing.

The meditation was suppose to focus the inner strength, but Taichi couldn't stop thinking about the past night.

The giggles of the next battle didn't let him sleep, and he had leave his bed to walk around the arena, then he had listened familiar sounds from the backup area. Maybe someone was training, maybe someone was fighting. He walked with caution already regretting didn't bright his sword with him.

The Sea King was fighting against the Wolf Knight. It wasn't a furious combat, they were doing everything in slow mode.

"Come on" had said the knight "it has to look like a real battle"

"I know, I know; thank you Yamato, I don't deserve your patient" The King laughed.

"You are just so lucky that I am going to be your first opponent Joe" the relaxing expression making look even more endearing than usually

Taichi get surprised by the familiarity of the calls. It didn't look like a King and his Knight, it looked like two old friends playing at war, it was almost childish.

Taichi forced himself to come back at the reality, he must clear his mind and get ready for the battle. But at the same time he had get so impressed with what he had seen. Not only the moves of the wolf knight were elegant and accurate, but the kindness between the two men made him feel something, he had prepared pupils, but this was something else.

The Sea King, was a clumsy man, he knows, he had known him since childhood, his strength was his diplomacy, his honesty and his ability to call the people on his side. How was the old light proverb? The right King wasn't the one who made the people fight for him, but the one who made the people live under his wings. Joe Kido had inspired at the son of a merchant to become one of the bravest warriors, Taichi knows that there was a story that he didn't know. He wish he could skip all this preliminary fights and jump until the final, if all goes well he will confront the Wolf Knight.

He closes his eyes against and try to concentrate, the next fight, his wishes to become a king, to take the hand of the princess on holy married. Yes, the princess. once again the remember of the past night haunted him.

"It's good, you just need to do it faster" The wolf knight had said at his old pal,

"you said it easy" the King answered

"Come on Kido, I had seen you survive worst things".

Yamato had not finished laughing when a hooded figure suddenly appear. The knight hight his thin and sharpy sword just in time to collide with the firm blade of his mysterious opponent. The figure attacked with firmness, a sword in one hand and the other making the shadow of a shield; Taichi thought on intervene but the Wolf Knight was handle it. In one move of his foot send at the Sea King at the floor, the sword on the left hand and his right on his back, he moved with grace around the place, desesperement at his opponent. The swords were every second more closed of the flesh, finally the Sea King recovered himself and scream "Princess, what an honor"

Yamato stopped immediately and the heavy sword gets an inch of his face. The princess get off the hood and revealed herself, proud eyes and red hair.

"Your highness" Yamato incline in confuse "What the hell… " he got interrupted by Joe polite cough "I mean what an honor to know you, is this a tradition by this lands?"

"It is not" Responded the princess "I had to said that I would be on a big trouble if anyone know I'm here, but I'm going to trust that you wouldn't said nothing" she share an accomplice glace with Joe Kido, and then come back at the knight " You all are fighting for my hand, the least I could do was know what kind of men could be my husband"

"I'm assure you that I hope the best for the kingdom" Said Yamato shyly still on his kneels.

"Me too" answered the princess smiling.

The bells of the clock tower ring on the midnight and the princess get aware of the time and place.

"I had to go, but if it not to much to ask I would like to see you, all of you" she said in a louder voice "tomorrow, at the banquet, maybe i would be able to talk to a future King"

The princess get in disguise again a run away for the passages where Taichi was hidden. A last look back and Taichi could see the smile of the princess, maybe for him, maybe for the Wolf Knight.

"She, she is really… " Yamato said to Joe once the princess has gone.

"I know, I'm bet you two would be so happy together" Joe said like it was nothing as he shaking the sand for all over himself.

"Don't said that!" His friend yelled as his face get all red. "What are you talking about?

"For what you think you are fighting?" Joe asked

"To be king, it's not about a princess, I mean, it is, but…"

That has been when Taichi stopped listening.

Of course the princess had going to see at the Wolf Knight, he was handsome and has a story of real battles, on real wars. All that Taichi has was a high noble position and the biggest record of winning combats. The story of the peasant that could be king was so much seductive than the one noble who was educated by the light until what? the six, seven years old, it was hard to remember with clarity.

He has to prove himself. Prove that he was more than the highest noble, he was a warrior, a leader, he was the Knight of the Light! he was the best one to become a King.

Takuya finally come back. His right hand over his own shoulder and shame on his eyes.

"I'm so sorry master, I lost" said the young apprentice.

"Do you know at who you was confronted?" Taichi asked him with a smile "Your opponent was Iori Hida, son of the Cold King"

"What? The one at who The Sea King defeated… but what he is doing on the tournament?"

"Because Joe Kido is a benevolent man, who forgive at who must be forgiven. At the end of the war of the Islands he offered the title of knight in return of loyalty, at him and at the rest of the high children under the protection of the Cold King"

" And he accepted? Live with the murder of his own father? A man like him, becoming King of all the lands, he could be dangerous, I must had defined him."

"You fight bravely and for more time than any one with your time training would do; Iori Hida is famous for his use of the traditional style of sword fighting of the Honest islands. Now that you confront him you can answer one important question, son"

"What is it master?"

"Is he stronger than me?"

Takuya smiled at his teacher "absolutely no, master. You would defiant him in a blink"

"Good, because right know I must confront at his adopted brother"

Taichi went out at the arena. The people whistled and acclaimed him, the past fights must be boring. The Wolf Knight against the Sea King, on a battle that was more than compromised, and the young apprentice of the Light against the Forgotten Prince, an unbalanced battle, maybe good at the eyes of swords lovers, but by the common eye both fights must be so quiet.

The Knight of Light looks at his opponent, a young man of vivid eyes and magnetic aura, The adopted brother of the Forgotten Prince, trained by the Cold King himself, a man who grow up from the tragedy of his own family and the biggest one of the family who gather him.

The princess Ritsuko, widow of the king brother, ring the bell and the fights began.

Taichi drew his sword first, attacking frontal. Davis jump just when he felt the strong of the oldest man against him. An elusive tactic. Taichi didn't stop, the swords collided on loudly timing. The both circle the arena, Taichi on the advanced, always attacking, always walking forward.

The princess must looking at him winning, the knights must to see him dominating and the people must to see him competent and straightforward. But his opponent, that small child was see him through a big smile, much bigger that one that someone with his back story must ever had, that was the face of a man with a plan.

And then, Taichi realized, the little bastard was trying to tired him. He stopped his attack as breathing heavily, Davis raised himself, much more composed, at by first time, he attacked. Taichi throws his shield losing pound, goes for the direct confront of the swords, Davis was stronger than he looks. Taichi lose balance and Davis goes for his feet.

A welt calculated move, but not against Taichi.

The Knight of Light went at the floor with all and his opponent and before Davis could tell Taichi was over him, with his sword on his throat and his sweat dripping all over Davis' face.

The bell rang and Taichi won.

And somehow the young man under him laughs. A bright and honest laugh.

They both raise and before Taichi could think Davis extended his hand.

"Great fight, I learn so much, I hope we would fight again"

Taichi doubt for a moment, the hand of Davis was warm, and his heart was clean. For a moment Taichi could look at himself on Davis, a few years ago, when he was hungry for learning and opportunities. The same brown eyes and messy hair.

When things started to be so complicated?

He inclined in front of the princess, who conceded him a smile, and walked toward the sits of the winners. The Wolf Knight and The Forgotten Prince were there, as far as possible one to each other.

Taichi took the sit next to Yamato ishida. Who has his hands over his old sword, maybe it was the only one that he had. Maybe it was the same that he used to cut the head of the Cold King. Yamato became a Knight on the war gains Iori father. Maybe that was all the reason behind all the knights of the island on the tournament, for a oportunity to slide a sword across the neck of the wolf Knight

Yamato was tense, Taichi wasn't sure if he had noticed that he sat next to him, if had even saw his combat, why he would been? with the intense look of the Forgotten Prince over him all that he can do was take care of his own life. But his face change all sudden, the blue on his eyes get brighter and a small attempt of smile try to appear.

The next battle was starting.

The last knight of the Honest Island, Ken Ichijouji agains Prince Takeru, son of the king's brother and the only one on that tournament that wouldn't really need to marry the princess.

All the air get tense, the heiress princess herself get to ring the bell, but before, the Prince Takeru put out a flower, walked at the crowd and dropped in front of the entourage of The Lord of The Light.

Taichi looked confusing as his own sister blushed at the impertinent act, which without doubt was for her. Childhood friends on his dreams, for sure. The Knight of Light has never wish luck for the knights of the Honest Island until that moment.

Ken Ichihouyi was a slender man, tall for his age and with delicade traits, whose eyes goes from Davis on the crown to Iori on the winner sits. He was handsome, on a different way of Yamato, not that Yamato was his standar of handsomes. However, his toughts were all over the place.

The bell rung. And the combat started.

The two young men fight with strength since the beginning, his completion and height where almost the same, it will be a skill combat. The prince was fast and accurate, with an annoying smile plastered on his face; but the knight was even faster, attacked a little less but he moved for all over the place, forcing at price Takeru to move too.

A move of the slim sword cut a little of Ichijouji's hair forcing him to hit the ground, but the man was skilled and transformed his fall on a kick on Takeuchi's legs. The crown scream, and the battle became an acrobatic one, both men hit the ground and get up easily.

"Novices" thought Taichi for himself. As spectacular as it seems, it was a waste of energy.

The fighters ended tired and sweaty, having spent the best of their moves on nothing. Taichi get over his sit and get a glance at his fellow winners partners. The forgotten prince looked angry, almost as he can see the same mistake that Taichi, Yamato was at the corner of his sit, with his hand still on his sword, murmuring for himself.

On the arena, both fighters get at the last of their strength. Ken Hichijouji composed himself and get over Takeru on one final attack. By his surprised Takeru didn't evaded him, he raised his free hand and attached the sword with his flesh and armor.

Yamato get over his sit and Ichihouji scream at the presence of blood, but The Prince Takeru didn't go back an inch, throw his own sword and punch Ichihouji on the face throwing him until the ground, disarmed. Then, with a calm that he hasn't before, he pick up his sword and threat Ichijouji, the foot over his chest and the end of his sword over his throat.

The bell ring again. And there was a winner.

Taichi could see his sister screaming on the crowd, Maybe she could be a good queen.

#3t3hb #digimon #digimon got au #taichi yagami #yamato ishida #takeru takaishi #ken ichijouji #hikari yagami #sora takenouchi

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christabellanikolai · 7 years

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The Untitled: Chapter 12

Jon and Daenerys travel to Castle Black while Jaime does his best to make good on his promise.

Also available on [Wattpad] [AO3]

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-Note: Italics indicate characters speaking Dothraki-

Jon watched as the gates of the old castle opened. They still made the same sound as they pushed in toward the courtyard. A growling sound that still made him shiver. It was the first time he had been back to Castle Black since leaving to take back Winterfell. He didn’t even recognize the recruits who held the gates open for him and Daenerys. They had flown together on Drogon after supervising the first of the evacuations on the Eastern sections of The Gift. Jon had come make sure the castle had everything it needed to prepare for an attack, while Daenerys met with her Dothraki soldiers.

As Daenerys entered the courtyard she was taken aback by the condition of the Castle. The roofs had holes that been patched with old wood; one of the towers leans left stones falling into the courtyard. She couldn’t understand how this place had come to into such conditions, and how it was going to survive the long night.

“Welcome to Castle Black.” Said Jon as he noticed her staring. “Not what you expected?”

“How?” she asked, “The Nights Watch protects the realm and this is how they are to live?”

“As time went on the Wall was neglected.” Said Jon “Once it was a noble honor to serve the Night’s Watch, now it is often more akin to a prison sentence.”

“So why did you come here?” asked Daenerys

“I grew up the bastard of Winterfell.” Said Jon “I brought shame to the honorable House Stark, where else would I go?”

Jon was smirking, almost laughing but Daenerys wasn’t. It hurt her to hear stories of how awful Jon had been treated growing up, especially since Ned Stark had known who he truly was. She had to wonder if his upbringing was better than the alternative.

“Your Grace.” Said a young boy as he ran toward Jon. He looked at him with wide eyes as he approached. Jon assumed the new recruits now heard stories about him. Dramatic stories about the Lord Commander, who rose from the dead, so he could become a King. “The Lord Commander is waiting for you in the tower. Please let me escort you both.”

The two made their way to the Lord Commander’s Tower. There, Jon found Edd sitting behind a desk, he immediately stood up and the two men embraced. "It's good to see you in one piece again."

“Aye, I am glad to see you and the Wall are still standing.” Said Jon before heading behind the desk to review a list of the castle’s current resources. “Do you think you have enough food?”

“Yes, though the Dothraki often complain there isn’t enough meat.” Said Edd before turning toward Daenerys “Though they are much needed, thank you for sending them.”

“So they are adjusting to the North?” said Daenerys “I worried how some of them would fair in this cold.”

“They are doing as good as can be expected. No different than the recruits who come from Kings Landing. They spend a few nights fearing they will die from the cold before getting used to it. One is waiting for you in the dining hall.”

“Thank you, if your squire would be kind enough to show me the way. I will let you two get back to work.” She said turning to the boy who nodded her before taking her to the dining hall.

“I can’t believe you have a squire.” Said Jon “It doesn’t really suit you.”

“Neither does being the Lord Commander but here I am.” Said Edd “Though you are always welcome back. Sometimes I would rather shovel shit then deal with all of this.” He gestured to the pile of papers and scrolls on his desk.

“What do you mean some of them have refused ride North?” ask Daenerys in the native Dothraki tongue.

“Many are worried they are no longer serving you.” Said Qhono as he sat across from her in the dining hall, surrounded by 3 other Dothraki warriors. “They say you are now selling them off to the Ice-Khal.”

“The Ice-Khal?” asked Daenerys not amused by their nickname for Jon, even after Qhono explained why they called him that. “Did you tell them Jon has sworn an oath to me? Tell them that I made a promise to help him in exchange for him to help me take the iron throne.”

“Yes but many still do not feel they should come up here and fight his fight for him.” Said Qhono “They knelt for you at Vaes Dothrak. They will fight your battles, not his.”

“His battles are my battles!” snapped Daenerys “He is my ally!”

“The Dothraki have no allies. We follow only one leader, the one who conquers.”

“There will be nothing left to conquer if we do not defeat the Night King. Where are the ones who refused now?”

“Dragonstone, preparing to sail back to Essos.”

Daenerys felt herself begin to shake with anger. “They can not leave. They pledged their lives to me, they are not free to go until their death or mine. I was led to believe that was the way of the Dothraki.”

“They do not believe you will survive this far North. They say one cannot live where there is no sun or stars. They have not left Dragonstone, they only prepare to. If you should die they will return to Essos and a new Khal will be chosen.”

“I suppose you would like that new Khal to be you?”

“No, I serve you, Daenerys Targaryen is the blood of my blood.” Said Quono, the other warriors nodded in agreement. “The ones have ridden North, and the ones who currently ride North are your true blood riders.”

“When I am Queen of the Seven Kingdoms your loyalty will be rewarded greatly.” Said Daenerys “Those who have refused the call shall suffer painful deaths for their rebellion and betrayal. I will have ravens sent to Dragonstone, the Unsullied will fight in place of those who refuse to ride North. I will send for Grey Worm to aid in the command.”

“How are they?” Jon asked as he entered the Maesters quarters. There he found Sam tending to the wounds on Tormund. Jon watched as Sam’s skillful fingers stitched up a particularly nasty gash on the giants left flank.

“Holding up as well as can be expected.” Said Sam continuing his work. “It doesn’t appear they fell far, most of these injuries are from the debris falling on them.”

“They will make it though?” Jon asked sitting in a chair next to Tormund’s bed.

"Aye, I believe they will." Said Sam, Jon was relieved to hear it. He could not bear it to lose anyone close to him this early in the fight, especially two people who had seen first hand what the enemy could do. "If you could stay here for a moment. I have to find some clean cloth for bandages."

While sitting waiting for Sam, Jon saw the giant begin to stir, Jon was quick to make sure Tormund didn’t sit up, fearing he would tear his stitches. "Baby Crow, let go of me."

“Then lie back.” Ordered Jon. “You shouldn’t move.”

“Where am I?” asked Tormund looking around, obviously trying to get a sense of his surroundings. “This isn’t Eastwatch.”

“No, you’re at Castle Black.” Said Jon “Don’t you remember what happened at Eastwatch?”

“I remember…the dead… I saw them coming out from the trees.” Said Tormund “Then…there is nothing.”

“The wall fell. Can you remember how?” asked Jon; desperate to understand how it happened.

"No, I can't," said Tormund bringing his hand to his head. “Though the wall falling explains why my head feels like it is splitting in two.”

“I will have Sam bring you some Milk of the Poppy.” Said Jon

"Aye, and bring me some sour goats milk." Said Tormund “A good nights sleep should take care of this.”

“You have been sleeping for days.” Laughed Jon. He noticed that Sam had silently made his way back into the room, carrying fresh cloths and warm water. “Tormund, I believe you know Sam.”

“Aye, I remember seeing you run for your life during our invasion.” Laughed Tormund. Jon rolled his eyes but saw that Sam seemed to find the red head’s joke a bit funny. “How can I remember him but not how the wall fell?”

"Amnesia, it should be temporary." Said Sam, as he began to apply fresh dressings to Tormund’s wounds. “You should start to remember bits and pieces about what happened in a few days time.”

"Let's hope so." Said Jon, as he poured Tormund a small glass of Milk of the Poppy. “Now drink, trust me when I say it will help.”

It was before sunset when Jaime, Brienne, and a still captive Bronn arrived at Riverrun. Jaime had decided this would be the best place to possibly gather men for Jon. While on the road they were met by the Lannister soldiers Daenerys had taken into her service, they had been escorted by the unsullied to a camp outside the path leading to the river. Jaime was as surprised they had gone unnoticed, as they were to see him there. Now they all stood together at the bridge, waiting and hoping for the doors to drop down.

Jaime breathed a sigh of relief when the door opened, and when it wasn't followed by flying arrows or men charging to tear at his throat. Instead, there was nothing as the group headed inside the castle. Once inside they were met by Ser Harys Swyft who Jaime assumed now had command of Riverrun.

“Jaime Lannister, I thought my men were hallucinating from the cold when they said it was you.” He said as he approached the group, shaking Jaime’s hand. “What in seven hells are you doing in Riverrun. Come to bring me more men I see?”

“Not exactly.” Said Jaime, a little confused by the Knight’s actions. He wondered if the news of his desertion had not yet reached Riverrun. “Though it is quite obvious the crown is desperate for good ones, why do they have you at this dreary hell?”

“You were the one who signed the order stating this is where I would be stationed.” Said Harys before laughing, “Don’t worry though, I too never read all those.”

Jaime also laughed, doing his best to hide how nervous this whole situation made him. The two men made their way to the dining hall, located in front of the castle. Once inside Ser Harys ordered a kitchen maid to bring them black bread and fish, along with ale. “It is all we have to spare right now.” He said apologizing for the lack of a feast. “We don’t know how long this winter will last and it is better to prepare early.”

“I would agree.” Said Jaime “Though this winter is something I wanted to talk to you about. I have a strange request to make.”

“And what might that be?” asked Harys

“I need you and your men to leave Riverrun and ride North.” Said Jaime “I want you to aid myself and the King in the North in fighting the Army of the Dead.”

The older knight was silent, simply looking at Jaime with a confused look on his face. He then broke out in hysterics believing that Jaime was playing an elaborate trick on him. When Jaime didn’t respond, he knew this wasn’t and the Kingslayer had been serious. “This isn’t some joke, you really want us to abandon Riverrun to fight for a false King?”

“That is correct.” Said Jaime. “A promise was made to him at the recent parlay in Kings Landing and I intend to keep that promise.”

“If we were to go fight with you in the North, how do you suppose we protect Riverrun?”

“With all due respect if those…things…make it here, this castle won’t matter.” Said Jaime. “We need to fight in the North in order to continue to claim and hold castles like Riverrun.”

“I heard that this Jon Snow has pledged fealty to Daenerys Targaryen. She is not only a foreign invader but also the daughter of the Mad King. You are expecting us to fight with her?”

“She has dragons. Now I am sure I do not need to explain what she will do with them should they all survive the war with the dead. The South will pay for its betrayal and that includes you."

“A war with the dead, you can not possibly believe in this stuff Jaime?” snorted Harys. “Sure if we were children I would believe that but the most dangerous things in the North are the Wildlings. Though, I hear the young King sided with in order to take back Winterfell.”

“My Lord, those things, they do exist.” Said one of the guards who had surrounded Harys at the table. Both men turned to look at the young man, a little taken back that someone of such a low rank would speak out of turn. Jaime though was right now grateful for the man’s sudden words. “I was there my Lord…”

"What are you going on about, boy?" asked Harys trying to quiet the man. Jaime was quick to interject, letting him continue.

"I was there at the pits in Kings Landing." Continued the young man. "I saw it when it tried to attack the Queen but two of Jon Snow's men cut it down. Even after they stabbed it with their swords, it kept moving, screaming.”

“I was there as well.” Said the other young man. “So it’s true, there are really thousands of them in the North.”

“Jon Snow tells me they have breached the wall at Eastwatch by the sea.” Said Jaime turning to Harys. “Do you not understand that they are coming for us?”

Harys was quiet for a moment as he looked down at his hands. After a few moments, he abruptly stood walking over to a window, sighing before speaking. "You understand that Queen Cersei already notified us that she would not be sending any resources North. She has ordered all of us to remain in the South for the remainder of Winter.”

“Aye, I figured.” Jaime was surprised that Harys had not yet mentioned Cersei saying anything about him leaving Kings Landing. He wondered if she hadn't yet placed a bounty on his head.

Harys sighed before turning to toward Jaime. The Kingslayer noticed a change in the Knight’s demeanor before he spoke. “You also know that she killed both my grandson and son in law in the Sept of Baelor. My daughter has not been the same since.”

“I promise I had nothing to do with that.” Said Jaime. “I was in the Twins with Walder Frey just as you were when we got word of it.”

“If you swear to me that is the whole truth then I will go against the Crown's orders. I will order all of my men to abandon this castle and ride hard for the North, tonight." Said Harys.

Jaime rose to his feet, walking over to Harys. The two men shook hands, confirming their new alliance. Harys promised to also seek further help from other Lords to ride North. As Jaime returned to the grand entrance of the castle to inform Brienne and Bronn of what happened he felt prouder then he had felt in a long time. For the first time in a while, he was truly doing the right thing.

As another wave of walkers was cut down Arya ran toward a group of men, looking for Gendry. The two had been separated once he had alerted the rest of the camp that they had killed a walker. The sound of the horn blast had not only alerted their troops of their location but also the wights themselves. Now the camp was filled with chaos as the screeches of the dead rang loud as they attacked, and men fell around her like flies.

She used Needle to cut down another walker while someone behind her delivered the final blow using a sword made of Dragonglass. Across the way she made eye contact was Gendry who was using his hammer to fend off a group of wights. As she to rushed forward through the melee she was abruptly stopped as one who had been thought to be down grabbed her foot, sending her down to the ground. It crawled on top of her, pinning her arms down as it screeched. She tried to kick it off but found her legs had been grabbed by another wight.

She tried to twist her way out of their hold but found more wights closing in on her. She did her best to scream but one grabbed her by the throat. As the last of the air began to leave her lungs, so did her vision and awareness. The next she knew the bones of one of the wights now fell around her like salt. As her consciousness returned she found herself being lifted over someone’s shoulder. The familiar stench flooded her senses and she immediately smacked her fists into her captor's shoulder blades. “Put me down now!” she shouted.

“Aye, as the little lady asks.” Said The Hound almost throwing her to the ground. Gendry was able to run over to her, immediately inspecting to see if she was injured. “Young love, a waste of fucking time.”

“Shut up!” she said, pushing Gendry off of her as well. “Why are you here?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking about how I am here?” the Hound responded. The three were looked up to find another group of wight’s headed their way. “Though now is it not the time.” The Hound lifted his sword charging toward one of the wights. Arya reached for her dagger, slashing a second as Gendry fended off others with his hammer.

The group remained outnumbered until an arrow landed in the head of one of the Walkers sitting on top of a horse. A small group of wights collapsed as he went down. Arya looked and saw Drogon coming toward them, Jon bow in hand, and Daenerys guided the dragon. “Get down!” she ordered as the Dragon screeched.

As they took cover they watched as Drogon blew flame, burning the wights as they came toward them before circling the area again. As it the beast came back around they saw it land in a nearby clearing. Arya tried to run toward her older brother but was blocked by another group of charging wights. She began slashing and cutting them down with her sword. She could see Jon doing the same as he fought to get to her. The two finally met, Jon protectively wrapping his arm around her. “Are you alright?” he asked.

"Aye," she said trying to push him off. "I am not a child now let me loose. Where the hell have you been?"

“The Wall.” He said trying to get a sense of how many wights were around “How many?” he shouted toward the Hound and Gendry as they ran toward the siblings.

“Hundreds.” Said Gendry. “We took out as many Walkers as we could but they just all won’t fall.”

“He must be around here.” Said Jon. He looked up toward Daenerys who once again circled above, silently telling her to be careful. “When they keep coming like this it means he is here. Have you spotted him?”

“The Night King?” asked the Hound. “No, only his walkers and these bloody wights.” As another small group of wights came toward them both Jon and the Hound cut them down with their swords.

“Fall back!” yelled Jon “Head for the western road!” The four of them tried to head toward the western portion of The Gift but again came faced to face with wights. They began to cut them down. When one went toward Arya, Longclaw stopped it. Jon then grabbed his sister, running ahead to bring her to a horse. As the two prepared to mount up they heard the sound of hoofs pounding into the ground, the sound of screams. Jon recognized it to be from Dothraki riders, having heard them before when they arrived in Kings Landing.

“Are those…?” asked Arya, amazed by the charge of the warriors as they arrived on horseback. Immediately charging the wights with little to no fear or hesitation. They swung their Arakh’s, taking heads and limbs off the wights. Even as Drogon sent down another stream of fire, they continued through it.

Jon moved back toward fighting, joining the Dothraki as they continue to cut down wights. As he fought he ordered Gendry to get Arya to safety but even in all the fighting, he could hear her protests clear as day. All of the yelling and shouting suddenly stopped though as they all heard a hideous screech in the distance.

As they turned toward the sound a flash of blue light met them. It’s heat radiating just like fire as it cut through the tops of the trees, sending those on the ground ducking for cover. As Jon lifted his head he figured it out. The flash of blue flames, why the pieces of the wall felt both cold and hot when he inspected them. How the wall fell. Just as he had done to the corpses at Hardhome, the Night King had brought Viserion back from the dead.

He looked up just in time to see the corpse of Viserion and the Night King charge right into Drogon and Daenerys.

“Dany!”

#The Unititled #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfic #jonerys #jonerys fanfic #jonerys fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #jon snow #daenerys targaryen

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kexax · 7 years

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Faceclaim; No.

Appearance -

Gender: Male.

Race: Human. Krytan/Ascalonian mix.

Height: 6′5″ish.

Eye Color: Drained blue.

Hair Color: Earthy brown.

Age: 33

The Facts -

Name Day: The final day of Scion.

Occupation: Margrave of Ostenmarch, within the Harathi Hinterlands. Knight Errant.

Sexual identification: Heterosexual

Romantic identification: Monogamous

Alignment: Lawful Good pre-Revenenancy, Neutral Good post.

Criminal History: None that you could find, likely.

Relationship Status: Hi Josie.

Sweet on: His dog, likely.

Favorites –

Favorite Treat: Dried fruits.

Favorite Drink: Pinot Noir.

Favorite Artist: Some war-time poet, no doubt.

Favorite Scent: Lucas is partial to the mixed scents present on a war front.

Favorite Person: Tobias Becchid.

Deeper Knowledge –

Ten Details:

⚫ From around the age of ten, Lucas was raised in a monastery in Queensdale. He studied beneath religious scholars and warriors to become a Guardian of the Six, eventually squiring under a man who considered himself to be a Hedge Knight/Knight Errant, Kasharren Hethril. From then, he was a member of the Ministry Guard, and then went on to become a Warmaster of the Vigil. He has cut ties with both.

⚫ About a year ago, with the assistance of the Seraph, the Tyrian Accord, and the Roses, Lucas led a militia into the Harathi Hinterlands to conquer a spot of land that had once belonged to his family, but which was squatted upon by Centaur. Now, Lucas is the vassal of the recovered land, constantly besieged by the same foes he kicked out.

⚫ Elysian is a surname only adopted by Lucas a few years ago. His birth name is Lucas Dyne, a name he abandoned once he left for the monastery. For years he acted under only the name ‘Sir Lucas’, until he discovered the truth of who his father was.

⚫ Lucas met his wife, the Minister Katrina Lansing, when he was nineteen and she was twenty-five. He was assigned to her They were married two years later. She died eight years later.

⚫ Caden Lansing, son of Sir Lucas and Katrina Lansing, was Lucas’ only child. He was seven years old at the time of his death.

⚫ Lucas had his eye impaled during his service in a mercenary company known as the Noble Rogues. It has given him an eight-ball eye, which he used to hide with a glass eye constructed for him by his dear friend Rilsy. Within the past year, he’s taken to wearing an eyepatch instead.

⚫ After the death of his son, Lucas went on an excursion with a few acquaintances to a crumbling Inquest lab on behalf of a distraught Dr. Rilsy. The lab had prior been hers, and she wanted to send the group to go and destroy old research. While there, Lucas discovered old magical secrets that Rilsy’s krewe had been hiding, which would lead to his first connection with Spirits of the Mists. Lucas wouldn’t consider himself a Revenant until Rytlock’s return, but these were the seeds of his abilities.

⚫ Lucas currently has three Legends. Oridus, the Fire Legion Charr, Ohlen, the Elonian Merchant, and the Black Lake, an eldritch horror of the Mists. He prior had six, but trimmed them off for the good of his mental well-being after a few disastrous occurences. He’s still getting acclimated to the voices.

⚫ Lucas has four siblings. A brother and a sister on his mother’s side, neither of whom he speaks to, and two sisters on his father’s side, one of whom is dead. His remaining sister lives with him in Ostenmarch, but Lucas does his best to ignore her existence.

⚫ Lucas’ non-combat related skills include cooking and music. He’s probably willing to make you dinner, if you ask.

Five Things -

Things Preferred:

Finely crafted weapons and armor.

Being on a battlefield.

Poetry.

Being at a piano.

His dog.

Josephine. Hi Josie again.

Things Disliked:

Obnoxiousness.

Charr, in a suburban-mom-racist kind of way.

The Ministry.

Colocals.

His life, probably.

Habits (Good or Bad):

Stubbornness.

Fledgling alcoholism.

An innate habit of putting himself in danger.

Grinding his teeth.

Keeping a rigorous schedule.

Personalities Drawn To:

Confident.

Boisterous.

Extroverted.

Intelligent.

Someone who can crack him out of his shell.

Good-hearted.

Personality Repelled From:

Shallow tendencies.

Obnoxious.

Those who could be considered ‘over-bearing’.

Needless aggression.

Fears:

Not being strong enough.

Not being able to protect the ones he cares about.

Losing himself to the constant stir of voices in his head.

Dying.

Stopping.

Tagged by @luxelen (what the fuck is a tumblr) Tagging: @Mom @Dad @walgreens

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liiilyevans · 8 years

Text

King and Lionheart

JILY CHALLENGE | @mslilyevans vs @lamelylimes

A/N: So, I’ve head this idea for a while now and this prompt helped me put it down on paper. If you hadn’t guessed by the title, it’s based off of this song King and Lionheart by Monsters and Men. Hope you enjoy!

royalty + so you're the rebel knight who has decided to conquer my land and oh shit with your helmet off you're actually pretty hot au

Summary: Lily didn't like the fact that she had to serve the new prince. Word Count: 13,625 Rating: Explicit FF.net | AO3

The clash of swords greeted Lily's ears as she pulled on her armor. They were under attack. This city hadn't been attacked in over a thousand years, and some idiots had decided to attack when Lily was having a bad day. No matter. They would be deposed of quickly, and Lily's life would return to normal.

Quickly, she marched down the stairs of the keep and ran straight into Marlene and Dorcas.

"What are you two doing here?" Lily demanded to know. They had left before she had to join the fray in the courtyard.

"We're being overwhelmed," Marlene explained. "There's too many."

Lily snorted. "We'll figure something out. Now, let's get back down there and fight."

The other girls nodded, and Lily stepped in front of them, grabbed her helmet, and left the safety of the Keep.

Unfortunately, Marlene was right. They were vastly outnumbered. Lily didn't know if she'd ever seen an army this size before. No matter, they'd still defeat them. No one marched on this city and lived to tell the tale.

Drawling her sword from its sheath, she marched into the crowd of those fighting, dying, and fleeing. She came in contact with an enemy sword for a few moments before she delivered a death blow. These idiots had no idea how to guard themselves properly. Scanning the crowds, she searched for their leader. If she could take him out, then they'd stand a better chance at winning. Lily always found that quickest way to defeat your enemy was to break his spirit.

Just as she spotted the man fighting in the middle—the one who was no doubt their leader—a long blast sounded from the horns that signaled to Lily that she needed to put her sword away. She did so immediately. Looking around, she spotted McGonagall striding out of the castle and into the courtyard. Everyone went silent, no one daring to move at the sight of the old women walking through the courtyard. She made her way up to the man sitting atop his horse.

Lily watched quietly. Her leader spoke to the man softly and she couldn't hear a thing they were saying, even if the courtyard was dead silent. Finally, McGonagall turned around.

"We will surrender," the women announced. "Anyone who lifts sword against these men will find themselves in the dungeons."

Lily nearly dropped her sword. What was happening?

Just then she heard a whoop. Turning her head, she saw the knight she had been heading for pulling off his helmet. Why did the bastard have to be cute?

Lily stomped into McGonagall's office. She knew she was acting like a child, but she couldn't bring herself to care. They'd just given themselves over to the enemy and she was just supposed to go along with that? Hell no.

"Lily," McGonagall greeted her. "I see you're a bit put out."

Lily snorted. "That's putting it lightly."

A glare sliced through her. "It had to be done, Lily. We were outnumbered. It was either surrender or die."

"Then we should have gone down swinging," she hissed, leaning forward in her chair. "Instead, we're stuck with a life of servitude to them."

A gleaming darkness appeared in the older women's eyes. "Oh, if you think we're going to serve them blindly, my dear, you're mistaken. In fact, I already have a plan laid out. Tomorrow, you're going to begin guarding the prince and by doing so you'll set this plan in motion."

"Go on," Lily said, a gleam in her eye.

The new prince was the most yappy person she'd ever meant. He kept asking her questions, which she chose not to answer. If he heard her speak, he'd find out she was a girl; it would probably blow his piney little mind. Still, she hated to note that he had a nice voice.

"You know, it's kinda of hard to carry on a conversation by ones self," he commented.

Lily snorted. He seemed to be doing a fine job.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, jostling his glasses as he pointed at her. "I finally got a reaction out of you!"

Lily rolled her eyes. Then she realized a smile was sliding over her lips. Horror flung itself upon her. She would not like this boy. She refused to. So no matter what he said, for the rest of the day, Lily kept quiet and made sure nothing slipped onto her lips.

Lily was guarding the new prince as they received the nobles, who had decided to come and pay a visit to the new king, when she got the shock of her life.

"Lady Petunia of Cokesworth."

Lily's back went ramrod straight when she heard the name. The doors opened and her sister stepped inside the palace, blonde hair curled atop her head. The last time she had seen her sister, Lily had been in tears, and Petunia hadn't been a lady. No, their mother had won Petunia that title after Lily had left. She'd married the Lord of Cokesworth, it seemed.

Her sister was merely a girl when Lily left to join the Lionhearts, now though, she was a full grown women. Petunia would probably laugh at where she was now. She always thought that Lily was too much of a tomboy anyway. Unfortunately for Lily, she let her mind wander to a place it shouldn't.

Lily grinned as she ran through the wheat fields. Her sister was far behind her—so far that Lily wouldn't have to worry about Petunia catching her. Her sister wasn't the most athletic person in the world.

Giggling, Lily ran faster as her sister yelled for to slow down. When she reached the end of the field, Lily quickly made her way behind a tree. Once she saw that her sister was still far away, she began to climb. Another giggle slipped out of her as Petunia looked for her, but could not find her. That was when Lily heard the pounding of hooves.

A horse came into view and her sister screamed. The man on the horse slowed as he spotted Petunia, who was frozen in her place. The man stopped under Lily's tree.

"What are you doing here, little girl?" he asked.

Petunia's only reply was a sob. Cracked, yellow teeth made their appearance as the man grinned. Lily hated him for looking at her sister like that. Before she could think about it, she dropped from her tree and onto the man's back. Immediately, his horse spooked and bolted, throwing Lily and the man from its back.

A jolt went through Lily's body when she landed and she tasted blood in her mouth. Another scream sounded. Blinking rapidly, she sat up and saw that her sister had yet again screamed. However, it wasn't because of the man. A warrior in chainmail and a helmet stood over the man. A sword pointed down at his throat, and he was trembling. A grin slid over Lily's face.

The warrior nodded to the man's horse, and in a flash, he was up and stumbling toward it. A carriage stood behind them with an elegant old women taking in the scene. Suddenly, Lily was ashamed of her dirty clothes. Surely this women thought she was some kind of homeless person. Lily's attention was drawn away from the lady to the warrior again. The helmet was gone and a women stood before them.

Petunia's eyes were bugging out of her head in disbelief. The women grinned down at Lily.

"Did you get that idea all by yourself or did someone teach you to jump on horses like that?" she asked Lily.

Lily's chest puffed out. "I thought of it myself."

A laugh fell from the warrior's mouth. "Get in the carriage and we'll give you a ride home."

That night, Lily couldn't stop thinking about the woman who had saved them. She'd never seen a woman who was a warrior before. Petunia said that it was unladylike for woman to handle a sword; she had even turned her nose up at the beautiful warrior. Lily raced up to the room she shared with Petunia and climbed into bed.

"Do you think I could be like her one day, Tunny?" she asked, sliding under the covers.

"Why would you want to be like her?" Petunia replied.

"Because she's brave, and she probably goes on so many adventures!" Lily exclaimed.

Petunia snorted. "You can still go on adventures, Lily. You just don't have to put yourself in harm's way."

"Where's the fun in that?" she retorted.

Petunia laughed. "Go to sleep Lily."

Lily awoke the next day to the sound of voices. She looked over to her sister's bed, but Petunia was nowhere to be found. Just as Lily was climbing out of bed, the door opened and her mother appeared in the doorway. A small smile was on her face, but it wasn't the kind she normally gave her daughters.

"Come along, Lily," her mother said softly.

Lily hopped out of bed and skipped down the stairs. When she entered the kitchen, she found the warrior and the lady from the day before.

"Hello," the warrior greeted her. "I don't believe we were properly introduced yesterday. I'm Alice. And this is the Overseer, Minerva McGonagall." The older women nodded to her. "And you're Lily, aren't you?"

Lily could only nod.

Alice grinned at her. "What you did yesterday was very brave. Especially for so young a girl. And we've got a proposition for you, if you would like to hear it."

"Yes, I would, please," Lily whispered in response.

"Have you ever heard of the Lionhearts?" Alice asked. When Lily nodded her head, she continued. "I thought so. What you probably didn't know is that it's a band of women who protect and lead our country. We find girls just like you, Lily—girls who are brave, smart, and strong—and teach them them how to fight and how to lead. I think you've got the brave part down. I've also discussed it with the Overseer and she thinks that you would make a fine addition. So what do you say? Do you want to be a Lionheart?"

"Oh, yes!" Lily shouted as she jumped up and down.

Alice smiled. "Good. But, Lily, you must remember to never tell anyone who is a Lionheart or that the group is full of women. Men don't take well to the thought."

Lily giggled. "Alright."

Lily was to leave with the Lionhearts that evening. Before she left, she went in search of her sister. Finally, she located her under a tree in the field.

"There you are!" Lily exclaimed as she sat down next to her sister. "Did you hear? I'm going to be a Lionheart!"

Petunia didn't respond.

"Tunny, isn't it amazing?" she pushed. "I'm going to save the world and help other people and-"

"Don't you get it? She sold you!" Petunia burst out. "Mum sold you because you aren't good for anything! You weren't going to help us bring in money and those people wanted you, so she sold you! Honestly, did you really believe that you were special?"

"You're lying," Lily whispered.

"No. I'm not."

With that, Petunia stood up and marched toward their house. Lily could only watch her as she slammed the door closed. For a moment, she just sat there in shock. Then the tears began to fall. How could her mother do this it to her? How could she sell her? Ashamed, Lily buried her face in her knees.

The sound of armor meant her ears as someone sat down next to her.

"What's the matter, little one?" Alice asked. "I thought you wanted to go with us?"

"Tunny, s-said Mum sold m-me to y-you," she sobbed. "She said I wasn't s-special."

"Oh, dear, that's not true," Alice told her. "If you wanted to go with us, we were going to give you mother a sum of money because she wouldn't have you there to help her. It's not her selling you to us. It's more like a pension. If you want to stay here, you are more than welcome to. We just thought that you might have something more to offer the world one day."

Lily bit her lip as she glanced back to her small house. "I do have something to offer."

Suddenly, Lily couldn't breathe. She had to get out of this room. Her sister couldn't know she was here. Quickly, she turned on her heel and strode from the room. She had no idea where she was going, so when she found herself a secluded section of the garden, she pulled her helmet off, trying to get more air into her lungs.

Breathe, Lily, she thought. Breathe. In, out. Just like that. Good girl.

Then she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. Spinning around, sword in hand, Lily came face to face with the prince, who was staring at her with wide eyes.

"You're a girl," he whispered.

"Say another word and I'll rip you to shreds," Lily snarled at him.

"No, I believe you," he said with his hands in the air. "I just. . .are you ok? You seemed freaked out in there."

A moment passed, then Lily lowered her sword.

"I'm fine," she told him. "You should go back to receiving your new court."

He waved that off. "It's boring. Besides, I'd rather know more about you."

"What if I don't want to tell you about me?" Lily retorted. "Prince."

The prince gave her an annoyed look. "My name is James, not prince. I've given you a piece information about myself, now it's your turn to tell me something about yourself. Preferably your name."

She glared at him. "My name is Lily. Now will you shut up?"

"You know, being quiet was never one of my good strengths."

With a growl, Lily shoved the prince back toward the castle as she pulled her helmet on. She had a feeling that she was going to regret telling this boy her name.

"So, Lily-"

"Would you stop using my name," she muttered darkly as she and the prince walked down to the stables.

"Would you rather I call you something else? Ginger? Carrot-top? Or my favorite, Red?" he asked.

"First of all," she muttered. "My hair is not carrot red. It is dark red so you cannot call me carrot-top. And if you try to, you will find yourself on your arse before you can finish getting it out of your mouth. Second, I would rather you didn't call me anything at all and stop distracting me when I'm trying to do my job."

"No offense, but your job seems pretty boring," he told her.

"Well, why don't I run my sword through your stomach then? Would that make it fun?" she retorted.

"You have a very dark sense of humor," he observed. "I like it."

Lily prayed she wouldn't strangle him before she was let off duty.

"So what's your favorite color?" he asked.

Lily sighed. "It's yellow."

A grin split his face. "I finally got you to answer!"

"Don't celebrate just yet," she mumbled.

"So the king's chambers is right here," Dorcas said, pointing to the map. "And the prince's is right across from his. We can take the servants' entrance and bypass their guards, leaving us with an easy kill."

"You're forgetting on thing," Lily interrupted. "Once we off the king and his son, who's going to deal with their men that are swarming this castle like flies? Are they just going to bow to us so easily?"

Dorcas looked away and shook her head.

"Exactly," Lily continued. "We can't make a move until we're sure that the men who serve him will also serve us."

"I heard the prince is awfully chatty," Marlene put in. "You could be using that time to gain information that we could use against him."

Lily blushed. "I'm not going to do that."

"Why not?" Marlene replied.

"Because he's the most annoying person on earth," Lily told her. "And if I start talking to him, he'll think I'm interested in him."

"Are you?" Dorcas challenged.

"No!" Lily exclaimed as they other two girls laughed.

Lily made her way through the Keep until she reached McGonagall's office. Gently, she knocked on the door before pushing it open. After entering the Overseer's office, she sat in front of her desk.

"You wanted to see me," Lily said.

"Yes, I did," McGonagall replied, slightly paler than usual. "I wanted to ask you about how guarding the prince was coming."

"It's fine," Lily told her. "No one has tried to attack the prince, and I haven't heard any rumors that would suggest that he was in danger."

A small smirk fell over McGonagall's lips. "I wasn't talking about death threats or attacks. Marlene mentioned that the prince annoys you."

Lily rolled her eyes. "He talks too much, but it's nothing I can't handle."

"I'm glad to hear that," McGonagall said. "If he makes you uncomfortable or-"

"I'll tell you," Lily assured her.

"You're dismissed."

Lily stood up and exited the room. She sighed as she thought about how far she had come since arriving here.

"So if men wouldn't like the fact that women are in charge, why does the Overseer not where something to cover her face?" Lily asked as they bumped along the road to the Keep, the castle where all of the Lionhearts were trained.

Alice chuckled. "You sure ask a lot of questions, don't you? Well, she's the messenger for the 'Emperor'. In reality, there is no Emperor. We just tell everyone that so they won't know who really runs the country."

Lily nodded as the carriage jerked to a stop. "Are we here?"

Alice grinned. "We are."

Lily hopped out of the carriage and looked at the castle that would soon be her home. It was huge, but she saw no servants scurrying around. There wasn't even a stable boy to come and take care of their horses.

"Where is everyone?" Lily asked.

"There are no servants here," Alice explained. "We do everything ourselves. You'll learn that soon enough. Come on. I'll show you where you're meant to stay."

Lily followed Alice through the twisting corridors until they reached a hidden tunnel that lead below the castle.

"We're going down there?" she asked.

"Yep," Alice said. "We stay down here because no one knows these tunnels exist. We're safe and if we need to, we can go underground and hide."

They continued through the tunnels finally reaching a room with six beds in it.

"This is where you'll be staying," Alice told her. "Your bed is at the very end. That's Dorcas. The other girls you'll be staying with should be in shortly."

The girl named Dorcas looked up. "What's your name?"

"Lily," she answered.

"Welcome to the Lionhearts, Lily."

James and Lily were once again in the stables. James was petting a horse while Lily stood watch outside his stall.

"He's rather pretty," James said as he patted the horse.

"Are we just going to come out here every day so you can pet the horses and say how pretty they are?" Lily asked.

James shot her a look. "Why? Don't you like horses?"

"I like horses," she replied. "But most of the time, the reason a prince comes out to the stables is to ride a horse. Not pet them."

"Fine," James muttered. "We'll go for a ride."

Lily pushed off of the wall and signaled to one of the stable boys to saddle two horses. He did so rather quickly and soon James and Lily were on their way out of the barn. However, their ride wasn't as long as Lily thought it would be. After they were a few paces away from the barn, James promptly fell out of the saddle.

Lily jumped down from her horse. "Are you ok? I swear stable boys have no common sense these days. They can't even do their jobs right. I'll go have a word with him."

James grabbed her arm. "It's not his fault. It's mine."

"How is it your fault?" she asked. "Did you mess with the saddle?"

"No," he answered. "I just. . .um, can't ride a horse."

Lily blinked. "You can't ride? Well, how did you get here then?"

"I rode in the wagon?" James told her with as much dignity as he could.

Lily held in a laugh.

"It's not funny!" he exclaimed.

"Tomorrow," she said. "You and I are going to have our first riding lesson."

"Keep your heels down!" Lily called in a low pitched voice. Last night she'd worked on deepening her voice so she would sound more like man when she taught James to ride. Marlene and Dorcas had agreed that she'd gotten it perfect.

"They are down!" James shouted back.

"No, they're not!" she replied. She had picked out Thunder this morning. Despite his name, Thunder was the sweetest horse in the barn—not to mention the easiest horse to learn on. He didn't spook when Lily and James began they're shouting match.

"That better?" he asked.

"Much," she replied. "Now take him around again."

James glowered at her before riding to the edge of the circular pen and trotting around the ring. Lily watched him all the while, making sure he held his reins correctly and all the other fun stuff that came along with riding.

When they had finished the lesson, James handed Thunder over to a stable boy, and he and Lily headed back to the castle.

"If you didn't yell so much, you'd be a good teacher," James told her.

Lily pushed him into a puddle of water.

They were about two months into their riding lessons when James didn't show up for his evening lesson. Lily, thoroughly pissed off, set out to find him. She searched the castle high and low, but still found no trace of him. His room held no clues as to where he could be either. Finally, she searched the gardens, and there she found him, sitting by the fountain with his head in his hands.

Lily softened her gate and pulled her helmet off.

"James?" she called softly.

His head snapped up and a slight smile appeared on his face. "Hey. Sorry I missed our lesson. I wasn't feeling up to it."

"What's wrong?" Lily asked as she sat down next to him.

A shuddering sigh escapes his mouth. "It's my dad. He's sick."

"What do you mean? Sick how?" she questioned him.

"Sick like. . . .bad sick," he answered.

"Oh."

Gently, Lily slid her arm around his shoulders and rested her chin on the edge of his shoulder blade.

"I'm sure he'll get better," she said softly. "You've just got to make the best of it until then."

James nodded, but didn't say anything else.

They sat like that for a while, Lily with her arm around him and James leaning slightly forward his elbows on his knees. Lily knew she couldn't say anything to make it better, but she wished she could. This stupid, loud-mouthed boy had become dear to her in the months that he'd been here, she realized. So incredibly dear to her.

"I think I need to go inside now," James said softly, finally.

Lily nodded. "Alright."

Lily was guarding James when someone ran up from behind him and tackled him to the ground. Lily would have taken off the man's head had James not been laughing.

"Sirius! You weren't supposed to arrive for another two weeks!" James exclaimed.

"Change of plans," the other boy said as he stood up. Lily noted that he was ridiculously handsome. Shouldn't people like him be locked up for looking like that? "Who's this?"

"Oh, Sirius, this is my body guard," James explained.

"Pleasure," he replied. "What's with the helmet? Do you have warts under there?"

Lily slapped his hand away as he reached for her helmet.

"Ouch!"

"Haven't you learned by now, Sirius, that you shouldn't touch things that aren't yours?" a voice sounded from behind them. Two other boys were walking toward them. One was tall; the other was short. Lily didn't even want to know how these four came to know each other.

"Remus! Peter!" James shouted, rushing over and giving each one a hug.

"I know, your life has been supremely boring without us," the tall one said.

"It has," James replied with a smile. "Why didn't you send word you were coming?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Sirius asked. "Does the bodyguard have to follow you everywhere you go?"

"Oh, um, you can take a break," James told her. "I'll be fine."

With a roll of her eyes, Lily strode off.

"So he just told you to leave?" Marlene asked.

"Yes!" Lily exclaimed. "Can you believe that? What a prick. And I'm the one who makes sure that he's safe everyday. I'm going to laugh if he finds himself without a finger or two because I wasn't there."

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a bit?" Dorcas suggested.

"No!" she retorted. "I'm not."

"Lily. . .you know I won't suggest this unless I saw a reason to," Marlene began. "But do you, by any chance, have feelings for James?"

"What kind of feelings?"

"You know, feelings."

"Marlene!" Lily shouted. "How dare you suggest such a thing! Of course I don't! We're plotting to overthrow him remember? I would just like a little gratitude is all."

"Ok," Marlene muttered. "Well, as much as I love hearing you ranting and raving, I do need my beauty sleep so night."

With a sigh, Lily shook her head. "Night."

But no matter how hard she tried, Lily couldn't get Marlene's words out of her head.

Lily was quietly marching through the halls when she was thrown up against the wall with a knife to her throat. She thrust her elbow out to try and dislodge whoever was holding the knife, but they easily blocked her. Cursing herself, she continued to struggle. How could she be so stupid? So unfocused?

"Stop it," a voice hissed in her ear.

It took her a moment to place it, but finally she realized it was the boy who had jumped on James yesterday. Sirius was his name.

"Good," he muttered when she settled down. "Now listen up. I know what you are." Lily went rigged at that. "You're one of those Lionhearts who used to run this country. I also know that you're probably planning to overthrow the king and James, but I'm only going to warn you once. If you harm so much as one hair on James' head, you've find yourself with a knife through your throat before you can blink."

Lily didn't dare move. They stayed like that for a moment, then the boy was gone. He must have crawled back through whatever hole he came out of. One thing was for sure, when they overthrow the king, she'd just have to take him down first.

The next time someone crept up on Lily, she was prepared. Her elbow pressed into their back, and she pushed their arm toward the middle of their back. Then she noticed the messy black hair and stepped back. Before James could speak, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him into a hidden alcove.

"Don't you know better than to sneak up on people?" Lily snapped as she pulled her helmet off.

"I didn't know this was here," James muttered as he gazed around the alcove.

Lily snapped her fingers in front his face. "Why were you looking for me?"

"Oh," he sighed, seeming to remember she was there. "I just, um, wanted to talk to you about my dad."

She softened. "How is he?"

"Not good," he answered. "Worse. I don't know what to do. We've had the doctors here, but they can't stop his lungs from filling with fluid. It's getting harder and harder for him to breathe everyday and it's taking such a toll on my mum."

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I wish there was something I could do to make it better."

"I don't even know why I'm bothering you with this," he said. "I know you have better things to do. Like go out and kick bad guys' arses."

Lily chuckled. "I don't mind listening. Just don't sneak up on me next time. I could have broken your arm."

"Sorry," he mumbled. They stayed in that alcove for the next hour as Lily listened to James talk about his parents and what could be done about his father. After she left, Lily couldn't help but feel a little helpless. Nothing could be done to save James' father and he was trying to fight that fact as hard as he could. Lily couldn't help but want to ease the pain.

She knew she shouldn't be eavesdropping, but Lily couldn't help it. Especially since the conversation was about her. Currently, she was standing outside McGonagall's office as Marlene spoke to the Overseer.

". . .and I think she'd make the perfect second," Marlene was saying. "Everyone looks up to her. Not only that, she's the most loyal person ever. She'd keep whatever secrets you needed her to without complaint. Lily is honestly the best person you could pick as a second."

Lily heard movement inside the room so she rushed off. When she was a good ways off, she let Marlene's words sink in. McGonagall was looking for a second, and she was considering Lily for the job. That alone was an honor in and of itself. A smile bloomed on Lily's face.

This was the best news ever! Even if she wasn't chosen, she was still excited to be considered for the position. Her wildest dreams had never held this grand of a position. Most of all though, Lily wanted this position—enough to kill for it. If McGonagall asked her to climb the highest mountain or swim across the largest sea for this position, she would do it.

With a smile on her face, she made her way back to her room.

Lily stood next to James as his father's casket was lowered into the ground. Even Lily, who didn't know the king, had to admit it was bittersweet. In the short time that the new king had been here, he had been nothing but kind to those around him. A few times, when she had to guard James as he was eating dinner, she had witnessed the king tease his wife and son. It was. . . .odd. Most kings didn't care too much about their family life as long as they produced an heir.

"Lily," James whispered with a bit of annoyance in his voice.

Lily jolted from her thoughts. "Yes?"

"Can you please take my mum up to the castle?" James asked. "I want need a few moments."

"Of course," she said. He didn't have to tell her that he was going to say goodbye.

So Lily escorted the sniffling queen up to the castle without complaint. Still she couldn't stop herself from looking over her shoulder at the boy who would soon become king.

For the first time in a long time, Lily was wearing a dress. It wasn't because she wanted to or even because she liked dresses. Her sister was still at court and Lily was off duty. If she had to see her sister, she wasn't going to give her anymore reason to argue with her.

Lily was backing away from the fountain when she rammed into someone's shoulder. Turning around, she came face to face with the queen, who smiled softly at her.

"Don't look so frightened, dear," she said. "I'm not going to have you beheaded for bumping into me. What's your name? I don't remember seeing you around court."

"Lily," she managed to croak out.

"That's a lovely name," the queen sighed. "Much better than that other girl from Cokesworth. She keeps trying to corner James so she can bother him. Of course, while James may be oblivious to what she wants, I am not. That girl wants to sit on the throne, but I won't allow that. Oh, I'm sorry. You probably don't want to hear about my problems. What brings you to court?"

So that was why Petunia was still hear. She wanted to marry James. Lily almost gagged at the thought.

She remembered the queen's question. "Um. . .business."

The queen nodded. "I see. And what does your father deal in?"

"Spices," Lily answered, trying not to get too nervous.

"And you, dear? You must be bored while your father deals with his business."

"I can entertain myself."

The queen laughed. "How about I get James to show you around?"

"No!" Lily exclaimed. "I mean I like exploring thing myself."

Her eyebrows raised, the queen nodded. "Alright, but if you ever want that tour do let me know."

James was pacing the floor of his room, and Lily was about to slap them.

"Will you sit down?" she snapped. "I'm getting tired of watching you pace the floor like a caged animal."

"But what if something goes wrong?" James retorted. "What if someone tries to kill me? What if I trip?"

"Well, I'm here because someone might try to kill you," Lily said. "As for your clumsy feet, well, there's nothing I can do about that."

James glared at her as the door opened. It was his mother.

"Darling, it's time."

Taking a deep breath, James stepped out of the room and headed for the Throne Room, with Lily in tow. She couldn't help but feel fidgety as they walked down the hallways. She was sure that the queen would notice her, even though she was in armor. Sweat pooled on her brow.

"Alright," the queen said, stopping outside the door. "I'm going to go in first and then the doors will open. It's rather simple, James. You walk down the aisle and when you reach the stairs you kneel before the priest. After he has said a few words, you rise and sit on your throne. That's all there is to it."

"I know, Mum," he replied. "We've been over it a thousand times."

His mother smiled before stepping into the large room.

When she was gone, the unease that had settled in Lily's stomach vanished. A sigh escaped her lips. Not long after though, the doors opened and a flood of people were staring at them. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Immediately, her training kicked in. She was aware of everyone in the room and what they were doing. She had to be. James' life was on the line.

Lily didn't remember walking down the aisle. She certainly didn't hear the words the priest was saying. She was too busy monitoring everyone in the room. Although there were a few unhappy faces, no one looked suspicious or seemed to be planning anything. Good; she'd cut them down if they tried.

Finally, James took his seat on the throne. For a moment, Lily took her gaze off of the crowd to look at him. Yes, he did look like a king.

The message had been simple: Come to my office now. We need to talk. And yes, Lily knew what it was about.

McGonagall was probably pissed at her. Lily wasn't sure how she found out, but that wasn't the point. She had found out. Maybe James had gone blabbing to his friends about who she was and that was how McGonagall found out that she had let James know she was. She broke the number one rule.

The Lionhearts had survived as long as they had because of their Statute of Secrecy. Lily had broken that statute by panicking and letting James see her face. She should have killed him right then and there. However, she let him live and now she was going to pay the price.

"Lily, have a seat," McGonagall instructed her. Lily did as she was directed. "I've spoken to some of the other girls about you, Lily." One of her friends had ratted her out? How could they? "I must say I've heard some very delightful things. Not that I'm surprised, of course. You always were a hard worker, very loyal. Well, all of that hard work is going to pay off. I promise."

This wasn't about her being removed from Lionhearts?

"Miss, I'm not sure what you're saying," Lily told her.

The older women chuckled. "Of course, you don't. Lily, I want you to be my Second in Command. I've searched far and wide for a girl to take my place when I'm gone, but I have found none better than you. All of the others look up to you, and you inspire them. If you want it, the position is yours."

Lily was breathless. "Yes. The answer is yes."

Lily was right about one thing though. James had told his friends about her. She'd found out when Sirius had looked at her with a devilish smirk and said, 'so you're a girl'. She'd nearly killed James then and there, but he promised that none of them would tell.

In all honesty, his friends weren't that bad. Or Remus and Peter weren't that bad. Sirius was a terror. Not to mention, he still didn't trust her, even if he did tolerate her. So on her days off, Lily occasionally spent some time with James and his friends. Today was one of those days.

She was out in the garden when Remus showed up. He was alone and he offered her a smile.

"You know, I like you better in dresses than your armor," he told her as he sat down next to her. "You look less intimidating."

"I'm supposed to be intimidating," she responded. "It keeps people from attacking the king."

"Well, I assure you, it works," Remus told her.

A smile fell across Lily's face. Occasionally, you found people in this life who were too good for this terrible world. People who were kind and sweet and always tried their best to help others. Remus Lupin was one of those people and Lily was proud to know him.

"Lily," a voice rang through the garden.

Looking up, she saw that James had entered the garden and was walking toward them with a gleam in his eyes. Even though she tried, Lily couldn't place his look.

"I didn't know you were out here," James greeted her.

"Yes, Remus was just telling me I look better in a dress than I do in armor," she replied.

"Well, he's right," James agreed. Lily's stomach flipped.

"What are you doing out here?" Sirius asked as he strolled up behind James. "I thought you'd melt in the sun."

Lily glared at him. "No, I don't if you must know."

Then that smirked appeared and Lily wanted to smack it off his face.

"Take a joke, Evans," Sirius said. "You take things too seriously."

"Well, people who don't take things seriously usually end up dying before they reach thirty," she retorted. "And yes, I was talking about you."

Sirius spared her a glare while Remus and James both laughed. Then Peter came striding up with an annoyed look on his face.

"You know, telling the guards that someone else knocked over the suit of armor in the castle was not fun for me," Peter said with a glare at Sirius.

"Where you the one who had to tell them?" Lily asked.

"No," Peter replied. "I was the one who he blamed it on."

Lily bit her lip to keep from laughing. Even if she didn't like the rat, she had to admit Sirius was a good time.

As the hours wore on, Lily noticed a change in James' behavior. Of course, he was still very upbeat and humorous, but he sat a bit closer to her—watched Remus more than usual. And though, Lily hated to admit it, she was more than happy to have his attention focused on her, even though she knew what that focus meant. It meant he felt something for her and Lily really didn't care to think about what that feeling was. If she did think about it, she'd start down a road she where she could not travel—one that would leave her scared beyond repair. So for that reason, Lily stood up, turned toward little Peter Pettigrew, and kissed him right on the mouth. When she pulled away, she could see the anger brewing on James' face, but before it could erupt she turned and marched from the garden.

"So you just kissed him and left?" Dorcas said when she could stop laughing.

"Yes," Lily answered with a smile.

"So have you spoken to James since the incident?" Marlene asked.

"Since this evening?" Lily responded. "No. I don't think he'll want to speak to me."

Dorcas laughed again. "I doubt that. He's obviously smitten."

"How do you resist?" Marlene asked as she sat down on her bed.

"What? James?" Lily replied. "It's not that hard." A lie. "He's a king, but he has his faults and I see them everyday. Trust me, they're not flattering." True.

But perhaps that was why she liked him, even if it was just a little bit. He was strong and loyal and brave, but he was also human and he made mistakes and got upset. He never tried to hide that fact—never tried to be perfect. So in the end, maybe it wasn't his perfections that attracted Lily, but his imperfections.

McGonagall was suggesting the most outrageous thing Lily had ever heard of. James couldn't tour the country if half the country still wanted him did. On the other hand, it wasn't so outrageous. The people needed to see James as good leader who cared about them. Lily didn't know what to say. Not that she could say anything in this council meeting. She was just here to guard the king.

"No!" the queen said as she pushed her chair back and stood up. "My son will not leave this castle. Not so soon after Fleamont's death. It's not safe and I won't allow him to be harmed."

"He won't be harmed," McGonagall told the enraged queen. "He'll be with his guard at all times. Nothing bad will happen to him."

"A guard you control!" she snapped. "A guard who could kill him at your command!"

"Mother, please," James sighed as he laid a hand over the queen's. "McGonagall is right. I need to tour the country. I know you don't want me to, but it has to be done. Besides, I'm tired of dealing with the nobles at court anyway. And I trust my guard."

With that, the meeting was over and Lily and James started back to his room. Only they didn't make it there before they were interceded.

"Hello, Your Majesty," Petunia said as Lily went stiff. "How was your meeting?"

"Fine," James answered coldly.

It didn't seem to bother Petunia. "That's wonderful. I was hoping we could take a walk through the gardens this evening, and you could show me what your favorite part is."

"I'm sorry I can't," he answered. "I've got my whole evening planned." Lily knew that was a lie.

"Perhaps another time then," Petunia suggested. That was when Lily saw the gleam in her sister's eyes. James had turned her down one too many times, and she was starting to get annoyed.

"Perhaps," James said as he headed down the corridor to his chambers. Lily followed silent as the dead.

James still wasn't speaking to her, and frankly Lily was fed up with having to tip toe around him. They had been on tour for over a week now and the whole time she had been ignored. Even she didn't hold a grudge against someone for this long, especially over something as silly as a kiss. Then again, she wasn't the one with hurt pride either.

She remembered Sirius grabbing her before she and James left and making her swear that she would keep him safe. Of course, she had, but now with James ignoring her, she might just kill him herself and do them all a favor.

She was coming up with a place to hide his body when she stepped into his tent. And stopped dead in her tracks.

James had paused in pulling on his shirt while the woman who he was with finished lacing up her dress. She didn't spare Lily even a glance as she skirted around her. And why should she? Lily was only a guard after all. By now, James had finished putting his shirt on and was leaning back in his bed with his eyes closed.

Anger flooded Lily's veins. She pulled off her helmet and chucked it at his chest causing the breath to fly from his lungs. Now his eyes were open and those hazel orbs were glaring at her.

"Really?" she snapped. "You won't even speak to me, but you'll have sex with her?"

"I don't see how it's any of your concern," he responded.

"Oh really," she replied sarcasm heavy in her voice. "Well did you ever think that she might have had a knife hidden in a secret pocket in her dress?" James blanched at that and Lily knew she had won. "That's right, James. We women are more capable than you give us credit for."

This earned her another glare. "I know that. I just wasn't thinking about it at the time."

"No, you weren't thinking at all," she snapped. "You were letting your cock think for you."

"Shut up!" he shouted, standing up.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do!" Lily exclaimed, stepping up to him.

For a moment, satisfaction gleamed in James' eyes then that light was gone, and he was stomping away from her.

Lily sighed. "Can we please stop doing this? I'm tired of fighting. I don't want to anymore. Please, let's just go on."

James' shoulders sagged. "Why? It's not like we'll ever really be on the same side anyway."

It hurt that he would use her loyalty to the Lionhearts against her, but it didn't surprise her—mainly because it was true.

"Because it's easier," she replied. "And I don't like fighting with you."

James turned to face her. "I don't like fighting with you either."

"So that settles it," Lily responded. "We're done fighting."

"We're done fighting."

They were in the town of Appleby, riding through their muddy streets, when Lily heard it. The sound of an arrow being released from a bow. She almost wasn't fast enough, but James was on the ground seconds before the arrow could find lodging any place in his body. She was up again before James could catch his breath. Her trained eyes spotted the man running toward the edge of town before anyone else.

"Guard the king," she called in her disguised voice.

James whispered her name softly, but she ignored him and jumped on her white stallion again. The horse jumped then broke into a gallop. Lily urged him faster. If that man reached the edge of town, he could have a horse waiting. Lily wasn't about to let him escape.

As she rode closer, Lily leapt from her horse and onto the man's back. Before she could stop herself, she pulled her knife from its sheath and stabbed him in the neck. Blood gushed out and he started to choke on it. Good. He deserved to die slowly.

As she rolled off of him, she realized what she had done. She had just killed a man for the new king.

Lily didn't come back to the king's camp until late that night. She didn't want to face James knowing what she had done. It wasn't because she was ashamed. In fact, she was quite the opposite. But she should have let them kill James. That would have put a stop to his rule and the Lionhearts would have gained power again. Yet, she had saved his life and didn't feel one twinge of regret.

"There you are!" James exclaimed as she entered his tent and pulled off her helmet.

"We're going back to the castle," she told him. "We leave tomorrow."

"No, we're not," James responded. "We have to finish the tour. We're already half way through."

"I don't care," Lily said. "We're going back."

"I'm not going back," James repeated as he glared at her. "Is this because of what happened today?"

"Yes!" she burst out. "You could have been killed! I'm not putting your life in any more danger than what it already is."

"I can take care of my own life," he snapped. "We should continue."

"We're not continuing," she said. "That's final."

"You think you know what's best for everyone, but you don't. I am the king and I am in charge. Not you. If I say we're going on, then we're going on. With or without you."

The thought of him leaving this place without her spurred her into action. She grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him to her. Her lips met his without hesitation, moving harshly against his. She wanted him to know that she couldn't stand the thought of him with an arrow through his heart. She didn't want to say it, which is why she was moving her lips against his. James didn't respond to her kiss, though. In fact, he didn't even touch her at all.

Finally, Lily pulled back and stepped away from him to see his shocked face.

"I'm sorry," she muttered.

Then James' arm was around her waist, and he was pulling her to him, saying 'don't be', and kissing her lips with such a bruising gentleness so that Lily thought she might die. His other hand came up to cup her cheek as she gripped his shirt again. This had to be heaven. There was no other way to describe what she was feeling in this moment.

Gently, his hands tugged at the latches holding her armor together. The chainmail was sliding off of her body in seconds. She was left in her pants and the strip of cloth binding her breasts to her chest. James let his hands fall to her waist so he could run his fingers over her hip bones. Her own hands seemed to be incapable of doing anything but clinging to him.

His tongue found its way inside her mouth before she could regain control of herself. Her knees went weak. His hands found her bum cheeks, then he was lifting her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. For a moment, they remained as they were—Lily with her legs wrapped around his waist and James with one had on her thigh and the other across her back, their mouths sewed together. Then James started walking, but he wasn't heading for the bed, Lily realized. No, he sat her down on the table that they had been able to haul in the wagon for the journey. And, oh, at this height, Lily was able to feel just how much he was affected by her. It was a glorious feeling.

"James," she gasped as his mouth finally left hers to travel down her throat. A small smile appeared on his lips at the sound of his name and he whispered hers back. His hands pulled at the knot in her bindings and the strip of cloth was unwound from her chest. Her hips pressed against his. A hiss fell from James' lip before he attached them to the side of her neck. The nip from him surprised her, but it pleased her all the same.

Finally, she was able to regain control of her body again and started to undue his shirt. The laces gave way to her fingers very easily, and she had the shirt on the floor in an instant. Her hands ran down the length of his chest, feeling the toned muscles there and the trail of hair leading into his pants that made her groan.

A grin slipped onto James' lips. "Now, Lily, you mustn't be too loud. The men will think I'm entertaining another lady friend."

She growled under her breath before reaching down and running a hand over his pronounced member.

"Say that again," she muttered against his ear. "And I might cut this off in your sleep."

He paid no attention to her threat, knowing it was an empty one, and let his hand find her breasts as her fingers ran over him through his pants. She arched into him, thinking she was going to die as his mouth descended upon her peaked nipples. His tongue lashed out at them, swirling around the tops before he lightly nipped at them, causing heat to shoot right to Lily's core. This man was torturing her on purpose.

He moved out of reach of her hands as he went down to his knees. The sight of him there—between her legs—was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. His hands found the tie of her pants and hesitated.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, not a lick of humor in his tone.

"Yes," she breathed, equally serious. Gently, she leaned down to kiss him. He met her half way, and their lips moved slowly. Honestly, Lily didn't think he would get to go down on her. He had her ready to strip down to nothing and have a go on the floor. But he pulled away and gave her the softest smile she had ever seen so she leaned back on her hands and lifted her hips up as he pulled her pants down her legs.

Once the offending garment was removed, James kissed the inside of her thigh as he gazed up at her through his glasses, which were crooked. Shaking her head, she pulled them off and sat them on the table. James continued his journey up her thigh until his lips rested just above her bare mound. His breath fanned against her center as Lily closed her eyes and waited for him to do something.

His tongue finally swept out of his mouth and kissed her clit. Lily saw stars. Her hands gripped the edge of the table. Her toes curled.

"You taste so good," he mumbled. Then his tongue found her center and swept up to her clit again before sliding back down in a teasing motion. A strangled moan flew from her mouth before she could stop it, and her hips arched off the table, trying to get closer to James. His hand found her hip and pushed it back against the table. Lily wanted to yell in frustration. She wanted him inside her, but at the same time, she never wanted him to get off of his knees either.

His finger found its way to her entrance, teasing her as it remained there, but did not enter her. A whimper worked its way up her throat and she was powerless to stop it from falling from her lips. Never before had any lover—male or female—made her feel this good. There was something about James—something about his very being that drove her wild—drove her to the point of insanity. And she loved every minute of it.

As his finger slid inside her, Lily moaned in relief. Her hips tried to buck off of the table, but his other hand clenched around her hip, and he was able to keep her down. Annoyed, she flopped back on the table so she wouldn't have to look at his face, however, this just made everything worse because she could spy his messy hair between her legs, which caused her to moan in pleasure. One thing was for sure, James wanted to take his time with her.

Gently, he rubbed his finger against that one spot that always made her scream in the heat of the moment, so she jerked upward—back into her sitting position—and tangled her fingers in his messy black locks.

"James, please," she begged as she watched him. Those seemed to the words he was looking for because his tongue started to press roughly against her clit, and he pushed another finger inside of her. Closing her eyes, she let him ring every inch of pleasure she could ever feel out of her. She had no idea that anyone could make her feel as much as the man who was kneeling before her.

Her end came swiftly, but it wasn't over quickly. It came in waves and just when she thought it over another wave would hit her. Her moans rose as his fingers worked her. As she started to come from her high, James slowed his pace, but kept his fingers and tongue on her. Finally, when Lily was completely spent, he stood up with a grin on his face.

"You're a horrible person," she mumbled as she leaned her head against his chest.

"Hmm, that wasn't what you were saying a few seconds ago," he replied, as he stroked her back. That comment earned him a smack to the chest.

James kissed her forehead before pulling away from her. Lily's fingers wound into his belt loops and yanked him back to her.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

"I was going to put my clothes on," he responded, sounding confused.

"Oh, you think we're done," she laughed. "That's cute."

James smiled. "We don't have to do that if you don't want to."

"Oh, I do," she told him with a smirk as she slid an arm around his neck.

So his mouth found hers again and Lily once again returned to heaven.

Lily awoke to an empty cot and the smell of bacon and eggs. Groggy and slightly annoyed, she rose onto her elbows to find James setting plates of food on the table—the table they had sex on last night. A smirk slid across Lily's face before she sat up and stretched. James heard the cot groan and flashed her a grin.

"What? You're not going to serve me breakfast in bed?" she asked.

"Did you want breakfast in bed?" he responded.

She shook her head as she rose to her feet. James was leaning against the table, watching her while she made her way over to him. His eyes were fixed on the piece of clothing that she had donned. In her opinion, his shirt fit her rather nicely. When she reached him, Lily pushed herself onto her tip toes and kissed him softly. James' hands found their way to her waist and held her there. Pulling away, she leaned her head against his chest.

"Thank you," she muttered. "For breakfast."

After untangling herself from him, Lily grabbed a fork and took a bite of her eggs.

"What does this mean for your job?" he asked her.

"What do you mean?" she replied, turning to face him.

"When you tell the Overseer about what we did—don't deny it, I know you will—will they send someone else to guard me?" he inquired.

"No," she told him. "This doesn't affect my job. I know how to keep those things separate. Our professional relationship won't change."

"Alright," he said. "Do you have something for pregnancy?"

"Yeah," she answered. "It's in my bags."

"What if you're already pregnant?"

"James, sperm doesn't work that way. It takes more than just a few hours to get pregnant."

"But what if your protection doesn't work?"

"Then we'll figure it out if it comes to that."

James nodded and Lily was finally able to eat her breakfast in peace.

The castle gates never looked so welcoming. Grim and dirt covered Lily, and she was more than ready for a bath. Maybe James would even join her. After they dismounted, they handed their horses to the stable hands. James turned to grin at her before heading up to the castle. Despite herself, Lily smiled.

That smile was wiped off of her face though when they entered the front door. The queen was waiting for them. When she saw them, she launched herself at Lily with a screech. Too surprised to respond, Lily was forced back a few steps as the queen clawed at her.

"It's your fault!" she shouted. "My son almost died and it's your fault!"

"Mother, calm down," James demanded as he held her back. "My guard is the reason I'm alive."

"No! It's his fault!" she screamed. "It's his fault!" Finally, her screams turned to sobs as she clung to James. Lily watched mortified that something she had done had upset this women so greatly. Then James caught her eye. He nodded to the hallway that lead to her chambers as he held his crying mother. Lily quickly scurried away.

When she reached her chambers, she found that there was no one there. That was odd. Usually one of the girls were in their chambers by now. Shrugging, Lily plopped down on her bed and started to pull off her armor. Then she heard running footsteps. Turning around, she saw Marlene standing in the doorway, wide eyed and tears running down her face.

"You need to come with me now," she said quietly.

Lily grabbed a white shirt and pulled it over her head. Then she and Marlene were heading down the hall. Lily knew where they were going. Something was wrong with McGonagall. When they reached her room, Alice was standing at the doorway.

"She wants to see you," she told Lily.

Nodding, Lily stepped through the doorway and found the Overseer on her bed with a stew of bloody rags along her bedside table. As quietly as she could, Lily pulled a chair over to her bed and sat down next to her.

"How long have you been sick?" she asked.

"For over a year," the older women told her.

"How did you hide it from us?"

"Cosmetics, my dear, and padding in my clothes. It wasn't something any of you needed to know about until it was time. I did not want your pity."

"No, but you could have used our help. We could have taken on more of your duties and you would have been able to live longer."

A snort sounded from her mouth. "Lily, everyone is going to die someday. There is no use delaying that."

"It's why you wanted a second, isn't it? So there wouldn't be chaos among us when you were gone."

"You're too smart for your own good."

Looking down, Lily tried to hide the tears in her eyes. She wanted McGonagall here with her. There wasn't a time when she didn't need the older women's advice or when she just wanted to talk to her. McGonagall had been like a mother to her in so many ways and now she was leaving this world forever. Lily didn't want to accept that.

"Lily, listen to me," McGonagall commanded, her voice ragged. "Lead the girls to safety. Don't let them do anything foolish and make sure you keep finding new recruits. We need to continue with our mission."

Lily nodded. There was silence for a long while. Lily didn't know what to do. Should she hold her hand? Should she offer to get a minister to say words over her when she was gone? When she looked up, none of that mattered, McGonagall was already gone.

Lily's room was moved. She now had a whole room to herself. It was new and she wasn't sure she liked it. After McGonagall had passed away, Lily was immediately promoted to Overseer. Now that she had the position, she wasn't sure she wanted it. A knock sounded at her door and Lily asked them to come in.

Marlene and Mary stepped into the room, neither of them uttering a word. Mary sat on Lily's new bed as Marlene took a seat in one of her chairs.

"Where's Doe?" Lily asked.

"Back in our room," Mary answered her. "She said she wanted to be alone."

Lily nodded. "What are you doing here?"

Marlene looked at Mary. "James is asking for you. He heard about McGonagall."

"Does he knew that I'm in charge now?" she inquired.

"Yes," Mary told her. "Marlene explained what happened."

"I'll go talk to him then," Lily muttered.

"Wait, Lily," Marlene protested. "Well, Mary and I just wanted to ask you about James. I noticed when I was talking to him that he was started to act a bit differently when I mentioned you. Did. . .did something happen between you two?"

Lily nodded. She had no intention of lying to her friends. "We had sex."

"You. . .you did?" Mary gasped.

"Yeah," she said. "We had sex. Now, unless you have anymore questions about what happened between us, I'm going to go and see what he wants."

Neither of the girls said anything as Lily turned and left her new room.

Not even bothering to knock, Lily opened the door to James' room and walked inside. Immediately, he stood up and pulled her into a hug.

"Lily, I'm so sorry," he muttered into her hair. "I know she meant a lot to you."

Lily just nodded and let James' scent surround her—sandalwood and lavender. She buried her face in the crook of his neck as he muttered soothing words in her ear. Try as she might, Lily couldn't feel anything right now.

"Do you want to talk about it?" James asked.

"No," she answered, pulling away to look at him. "No, I don't want to talk about it."

"Alright. If you want to, you can stay here tonight," he offered.

"Thank you."

James nodded and kissed her collar bone before she pulled away and went over to his dresser. She heard the bed creak behind her as she stripped out of her pants and shirt only to put James' on. She could feel James' eyes on her as she finished buttoning up his shirt.

As Lily started to climb into bed, James opened his arms. A sad smile fell across her face as she climbed into his lap and rested her forehead against chest.

"It's going to get better," James told her. "Maybe not right now, but someday it's going to get better."

Lily didn't believe him though, so she just kissed him instead.

Lily wasn't used to sitting in on council meetings—at least not in the way she had to now. She was sitting in McGonagall's seat, and she was actually aloud to express her opinion now.

". . .Riddle's armies," James was saying. "They're already advancing on our borders. We've sent out our forces to meet them, but I don't think that will be enough."

"Send out a notice," Lily suggested. "Tell all the people to be prepared to leave on a moment's notice. Have the best guards on duty. Don't take any chances."

Lily tuned out what the rest of the council was saying. She was just filling a position, she reminded herself. There was no way McGonagall could really be gone. She was going to come back because Lily wasn't ready for this job. Not yet.

"Lily?" James muttered as she placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up and realized everyone was gone.

"I'm fine," she said before he could ask.

"No, you're not," he responded, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. His hand found the curve of her cheek, and Lily let him kiss her. She was happy for the distraction. However, it didn't last long. A gasp came from the door.

Pulling away from James, Lily saw her sister standing in the doorway with a hand over her mouth. Before anyone could say anything, Petunia was gone. Lily slipped out of James' grasp and ran after her. Thanks to her training, she was able to catch her fairly easily.

"Petunia, wait," Lily said as she grabbed her arm.

"Why?" her sister demanded as she spun to face her. "Why should I do anything that you ask?"

"It's not what you think."

"Oh, so you weren't kissing the king? I don't know how but you knew I was here and you knew I was planning to court him. You knew and you kissed him anyway. Explain that away."

"Tunny, I-"

Before Lily could finish her sentence, Petunia had yanked her arm from her grasp and was striding down the hall. As hard as she tried, Lily couldn't stop her tears from falling.

Lily couldn't stand to be in the tunnels where the Lionhearts were now. There were to many memories there and all that did was make her angry. Besides, why would she stay there where she couldn't find any peace, when she could stay with James and fuck her anger away? The latter seemed like a much better idea to her. So that was why a good majority of her things were now in James' room.

"Lily," James whined as he leaned over to kiss her shoulder. "You've been working on that all day."

"Your point being?" she said as she flipped through another report that a Lionheart had given her.

"I would like to have some time with you when you're not invested in your work?"

"Well, we don't always get what we want."

That response earned her a snort. She was so consumed in her work, she didn't even notice James kneeling down before her. He had lifted her over his shoulder before she could blink.

"Put me down!" she screeched as she tried to keep from laughing.

"Nope," he said. Despite her protests, he carried her back into the bedroom, then dropped her on the bed. With a smile on his face, he crawled on top of her. "Now isn't this much better than work?"

"Yeah," she answered as she grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him.

Anger seeped through Lily's veins. He'd gone through her things. She'd been foolish enough to trust him and he'd gone through her things. With loud footsteps, she marched into his bedroom.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" she snapped. "You don't just go through other people's things."

James glared at her. "I didn't go through any of your stuff. Not until I saw this lying on the top of your desk."

He launched a paper onto the table, which she quickly snatched up. It was a letter from Marlene. Written on it were ideas on how to overthrow James. Shit.

"You want to explain that?" he asked. "Or do you want to know what else I found?"

"I don't want to know anything," she replied, anger returning. "I know what's in my desk. You, however, should not."

"Oh, so I should just let you go on and plan my downfall? Is that what I should do?"

"I'm not plotting anything! I just need more time to convince the others that overthrowing you isn't a good idea!"

James deflated. "Why'd you do it in the first place?"

"I didn't know you and you'd just come into my land and taken over. What was I supposed to do? Welcome you with open arms?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For. . .I don't know. I'm just sorry."

Lily sighed and leaned her head on his chest. "You need to do what's best for both of our peoples—not just yours."

"Lily, I wouldn't exclude a certain people," James told her. "Especially not one who had been here first."

"You're cheating!" Lily exclaimed as she threw her cards down.

Sirius smirked. "Not at all. I'm just that good."

Lily glared at him and turned to James. "How do you stand him?"

James just grinned at her in response.

She hadn't meant to end up playing cards with the four boys. In fact, she'd come up here to get into bed early. When Remus had asked to join them, though, she hadn't been able to resist. None of them had asked her about the stunt she pulled when she kissed Peter, so she supposed she was forgiven, if any of them were ever mad at her.

"Darling, Lily, as you can see, I'm the best at this game," Sirius told her with a smirk.

"You're a dirty cheater is what you are," she spat.

Sirius threw back his head and laughed as she got up and marched away from the table. James caught her around the waist as she reached him. She smiled up at him even though she had lost. His answering grin was enough to light a fire in her belly.

"If you two are going to get all mushy, go in the bedroom!" Sirius cried.

"Shut up, Sirius!" they both called.

There was another annoyingly stuffy ceremony that she and James had to attend. Since Lily had taken over as Overseer, she didn't guard James very often anymore. Marlene or Dorcas were usually on duty in her place. Today, though, Dorcas was positioned on the west side of the castle and Marlene wasn't feeling well, so Lily took her place.

It felt funny, though. She wasn't sure why, but something felt off. Looking around, everything appeared to be normal and there was no food to poison either. She wondered why she was so on edge.

Glancing to the right, she saw the queen. She had been shocked to find out that Lily was a part of the Lionhearts, but she hadn't been anything but kind to her in the council meetings. Lily wondered if the queen had some secret agenda that she was working towards. Even if she did, she was a nice women.

Her distraction with the queen cost her. A man with a mask drawled his sword. He was far too close to James. Lily interceded him before he could reach the king though. However, he was ready for her. His sword met hers without any effort. Lily knew before he even swung his sword again that she was outmatched. This man was older than she was and had more experience. He probably knew every trick that she planned to use.

Still, that didn't stop her from trying to fight him. She swung left then backpedaled and swung right aiming for his exposed side. He was onto her though and moved too swiftly for her to catch him. Before she knew it, Lily was being run through with a sword.

"Where is she?" James demanded to know.

"We can't tell you that," Dorcas said, stone faced.

"I want to see her!" he raged. "I need to know if she's alright!"

"She got stabbed with a poisoned sword!" Marlene exclaimed. "Do you think she's alright?!"

"I just want to see her," he begged. "That's all I'm asking for."

"If she hadn't been guarding you, she wouldn't be lying in a bed trying to recover from poison on the tip of a sword that was meant for you," Marlene spat. "It's your fault that she's lying in that bed right now, so no, I'm not going to tell you where she is."

With that, Marlene stormed from the room. Dorcas watched him for a moment before leaving as well. James didn't bother to have them followed as he sat down on his bed.

It had been ten days. Ten days and still no word on how Lily was fairing. All of the Lionhearts had managed to disappear in this time so James had no one to question. He had to settle for pacing his room constantly.

"Would you stop that," Sirius demanded. "You're making me nervous."

James glared at him. "I can't help it. I can't do anything else."

"I don't know why you're bothering," Sirius sighed.

"Because I care about her," James snapped. "I don't know why you're questioning me."

"Because you're being an idiot?" Sirius suggested. "It's not like you were supposed to be with her." When James gave him an indignant look, he elaborated. "She was your guard—one that didn't particularly care for your father's rule and probably didn't want you to rule either. To let her get as close as she did was—and I'm sorry to say this, James—rather stupid."

Sirius wasn't far from the truth, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"What Sirius means is that maybe it's for the best," Remus cut in. "I know you liked her a lot, but, in the end, she would have only brought you pain."

James had no reply to this.

As hard as he tried, James couldn't find out anymore about Lily. No matter what he did, none of the Lionhearts ever surfaced. He didn't know how they were hiding themselves so well. He shouldn't be thinking about this right now. Not when they were being attacked, but he couldn't get Lily out of his mind.

Riddle's forces had come closer and closer to the castle and James had been unable to do anything to stop them. The forces he sent out were cut down like chattel. The only option he had was to fight them on home soil. So he let them get closer and closer to the castle. Now the battle was raging outside their gates. He didn't care if he was king, James was not going to let his people fight this battle on his own.

Despite the protests from his men, he ran out into the thick of the battle. He cut down men in a blind haze, taking his frustration from not seeing Lily out on them. Something caught his eye then. It was Marlene—dressed for battle—marching toward the battle field and unleashing herself on those poor helpless men. James had never seen anything so magnificent. Dorcas was not far behind her.

His distraction cost him. A man elbowed his side and sent him staggering to the left. James lost his footing and fell to the ground. The man raised his sword above his head and started to bring it down. Before the blade met his flesh, a knife slammed into the man's throat. Surprise overtook James. Turning his head sharply, he saw Lily striding toward him—completely healthy, red hair flowing in a braid behind her, and furious.

"What the hell," she growled as she pulled him to his feet. "Are you insane? You could have been killed."

"You're supposed to be sick," he managed to chock out.

"I recovered fully three days ago," she said, her tone softening. "Marlene and Dorcas wouldn't let me tell you."

Before he could say anything else, Lily slammed her sword into the side of a soldier, hitting a vital organ and sending him to the ground crying out in pain. James followed her lead and entered back into the battle. They didn't have time to talk. That would come later.

Despite having the Lionhearts on their side, they were still losing. Riddle outnumbered them ten to one. There was no coming out of this battle, James realized. They were both going to die.

He glanced over at Lily only to see her looking back at the castle. She was nodding at someone who was on top of the castle wall. James watched in amazement as huge balls of wood were rolled onto catapults and launched at Riddle's men. It took out a good number of their forces.

"You're a genius," he muttered to Lily.

"Nah," she replied with a grin. "Those have been underground for years."

With that, the battle resumed. The catapults gave them the edge they needed. As Riddle's forces dwindled, they drew back. Eventually, there were riding away in a hurry. Good, James thought. Let them try and come back for his country.

Turning, he grabbed Lily by the waist and kissed her. Her response was eager as she pushed herself up against him.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again," he muttered as they broke apart.

"I'll try," was her response.

Seven years later

Lily watched her son play from the balcony above the garden. He was chasing after a frog—trying to cage the poor creature. She took pity on it. What she found hilarious, though, was redhead that was sneaking up on him without his notice. That was Ginny Weasley. The newest recruit to the Lionhearts. The girl showed great promise. She was also a bit of a troublemaker.

"Please, tell me you're not spying on Harry again."

Lily turned around to settle her husband with a look. He just raised an eyebrow in response. Seven years of marriage and she still never tired of seeing him look like that.

"I'm not spying," she told him. "I'm just making sure that he's ok."

Just as she finished her sentence, cries of 'gotcha', 'get off', and 'that's not fair' rose from the garden. Lily spun around to see that Ginny had tackled Harry to the ground much to his dismay.

"Is he alright?" James asked.

Lily smiled. "He's fine."

"You're horrible to him," he said, shaking his head.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm the horrible one."

James grinned as he crossed the room and took her into his arms. Lily allowed him to kiss her before she pulling back and looked him in the eye.

"I have something to tell you," she said.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I'm pregnant."

James glanced down at her stomach before moving his eyes back to her face. "Really?"

"Yes."

Another grin broke out on his face and he picked her up and spun her around. Lily laughed until he put her down.

"I love you," he muttered as he rested her forehead against hers.

"I love you, too."

#jilychallenge #thejilynet #fyeahjamesandlily #jily #James Potter #Lily Evans #hp #My writing

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possiblyhereticalultramarine · 8 years

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Twin Stars of Ultramar- Cato, Chapter 2: Pride

Well folks, if you think you’ve hated Cato Sicarius before, prepare to despise him with a fury that puts Khorne to shame

“You’re shorter than I thought, Master Cato” said an elegant, female voice behind him.

Cato Sicarius turned from the view of the night city that the balcony provided him. At the entrance to his personal room was a noticeably young and, if he was being honest, very attractive girl in a turquoise dress, seemingly designed to both show off the lithe figure of the wearer as well as her regal status. Her copper colored hair was held in place above her shoulders by expensive fasteners that doubled as elaborate jewelry. Cherry-red lips pursed into a smile that carried all the way up her aquiline face to her hazel eyes.

“You must be Miss Genevieve” Cato said, his typically arrogant expression meeting her eyes as he stepped back into the interior of his room, slightly annoyed that one of the guests had followed him to his room where he had escaped to after growing tired of the vapid praise they were lavishing onto him at the celebration.

However, he was curious why a girl would chase after him today of all days. Cato was no stranger to women. Growing up as a son of one of the most respected aristocratic houses on Talassar, nearly all of the noble girls at his schola had relentlessly attempted to win his favor, either because their parents forced them to seek out a powerful future husband or they simply wanted one of their own accord. Also, even without his noble status, Cato did cut quite a handsome figure. He outgrew their annoying attempts at seduction rather quickly, however, viewing them as craven weaklings that could only succeed by hanging onto the coattails of their betters. Still…they had their uses to him.

When he was selected for his ascension into the Adeptus Astartes however, they immediately gave him a wide berth. He was effectively eliminated as a potential suitor to carry on their families’ legacy and it was considered scandalous to fraternize with those chosen to become initiates. Therefore, he was interested in why Genevieve Hafner would try to interact with him. He knew her by her family. She was the daughter of Gregor Hafner, one of the patriarchs of the lower noble houses and Master of Commerce for their city. He remembered her name as she was one of the very few women that made no attempts to seduce him during his years at the schola.

“Mistress Genevieve” she corrected, and for a moment, a flash of irritation crossed her eyes causing Cato to smile. “With the death of my father, I am the rightful heir to the Hafner consortium and I would prefer it if you used my official title, honored Cato”

“Ah my apologies, with all my duties as an Ultramarine initiate…I must have forgotten to keep up to date with the happenings of the lower houses” he replied, making sure to give his words a trace of mockery that put his counterpart on edge. He was very good at doing that.

She bristled at the comment but stepped into his room, her pale hand running over a marble bust of Konor. She looked around the room, her eyes settling on a decently sized golden symbol of the Ultramarines that was fastened onto the wall opposite his bedside. “I suppose your parents put that there to be a motivation to you” she said, gesturing at the icon. “You were raised solely for the purpose of being one of the Emperor’s finest after all”

“I ordered that put there myself” Cato replied, his eyes challenging hers as he took a step forwards. “As a portent of my future role as one of the defenders of Ultramar”. And one of its masters, he added to himself.

“Such confidence!” she gave a short, bubbly laugh before meeting his gaze with an intensity that surprised him. “Is that why you came here?” she asked, a slight edge in her voice. “To get away from all us…normal people?”. She was quite daring, he had to give her that. No other person in the palace, no on the entire planet would dare to challenge one chosen for ascension like that. Especially one from a lower house than him.

“Quite frankly, yes” Cato replied, his smile deepening. If she wanted a challenge, she can have one, he thought. “I was getting tired of my name being used in such shallow praise. If I am to be congratulated, I’d rather it be from people that have a modicum of my respect”.

“Oh? And will any of us be worthy of that respect?” she countered in a more relaxed tone this time. “I’ve seen the way you look at us, Cato. Not just here but in the schola. We’re nothing but stepping stones for you to trod upon in your path to glory”. He could detect a hint of sarcasm in her voice. It really does seem like she was one of the adventurous types, he thought.

“And you took it upon yourself to come up here and lecture me on my worldview” he said with a derisive laugh. “Oh, how very noble. I’m sure Lord Guilliman is looking down upon such acts of selfless morality”.

“Do not take his name in vain” she said sharply, fixing him with a cold glare. “You have the honor, no, the privilege of becoming one of the most holy protectors of Ultramar and its time you learned to respect those below you. If I had-” she stopped herself before she could complete the sentence.

“If you had been chosen instead of me?” Cato could not hold back a burst of hoarse, mocking laughter. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and it brought Sicarius great pleasure to see the mixture of shame and anger in her face

“Yes” she said between gritted teeth. She could never become an Ultramarine. Never carry out the teachings of Lord Guilliman in earnest no matter how much effort she devoted into such an endeavor. She hated herself for that. She hated herself and he knew it.

He stepped close to her, a dark grin spreading across his face as his hand went up to her face, his knuckles gently caressing her cheek. “There are…other ways to serve the warriors of Ultramar” he said, his voice both condescending and malicious. “More indirect ways” his hand went to the side of her hip, tugging on one of the bindings of the dress.

Her eyes widened and for a microsecond, she was frozen in place as she looked into his eyes. The power and ambition that radiated from them was immense and she could see what he was after. What he was always after. He never wanted to be a mere protector. He wanted to conquer, to dominate and to rule. Cato Sicarius wanted power in its purest form…and he would never have enough of it to satiate his needs.

She pushed herself away with a jolt and slammed her fist into the side of his head. She was no defenseless court lady. She had been tutored in martial arts from a young age as her father insisted she be able to hold her own in a fight. A sentiment she wholeheartedly agreed with. Therefore, she was satisfied when she heard a crack as Cato’s head snapped to a side.

Cato smiled as he felt the copper taste of blood welling in his mouth. She was a tough girl, this one, he thought. “I take it your pointless moralizing is over now?” he sneered at her.

“Bastard!” she shouted at him and stormed outside his room, her hand slightly trembling as her mind reeled from what had just happened.

The son of house Sicarius spat out a gobbet of blood and returned to the balcony. Oddly enough, he felt himself in rather high spirits. Her visit had brought out his more…honest self and it was not often that he had the opportunity to put that on display. So often did he have to hide his ambition behind pretty words. So often did he have to pay lip service to those weaklings, promising to be their selfless hero who would gladly give his life for them. The thought sickened him.

He was no mere protector. He was more than that. He would not die on some backwater world giving his life to defend those too weak to defend themselves. He would be a glorious leader, a knight-champion with uncountable victories. His name would become synonymous with power and majesty, the entirety of Ultramar calling out praises to him. As he stared out into the starry night sky, he let these visions of grandeur blossom inside him, keeping him warm in the cold night air. He would be the burning star of Ultramar…and no one would stop him.

#ultramarines #warhammer #warhamemr 40k #space marines

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quietya · 8 years

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If You Like...Sarah J. Maas

At the end of 2016, I asked if there was anything you guys wanted to see on the blog. A couple of you mentioned posts that linked popular books with underrated books. I’ve been sitting on this for a while, trying to come up with matches, and right now my easiest match? Is Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas. One, because a lot of you love it, and two, because I’ve actually read it.

So, without further delay, here are some books you probably haven’t heard of but you might like if you love Throne of Glass.

Death Sworn by Leah Cypress

When Ileni lost her magic, she lost everything: her place in society, her purpose in life, and the man she had expected to spend her life with. So when the Elders sent her to be magic tutor to a secret sect of assassins, she went willingly, even though the last two tutors had died under mysterious circumstances. But beneath the assassins’ caves, Ileni will discover a new place and a new purpose… and a new and dangerous love. She will struggle to keep her lost magic a secret while teaching it to her deadly students, and to find out what happened to the two tutors who preceded her. But what she discovers will change not only her future, but the future of her people, the assassins… and possibly the entire world.

Grave Mercy by Robin LaFevers

Seventeen-year-old Ismae escapes from the brutality of an arranged marriage into the sanctuary of the convent of St. Mortain, where the sisters still serve the gods of old. Here she learns that the god of Death Himself has blessed her with dangerous gifts—and a violent destiny. If she chooses to stay at the convent, she will be trained as an assassin and serve as a handmaiden to Death. To claim her new life, she must destroy the lives of others. Ismae’s most important assignment takes her straight into the high court of Brittany—where she finds herself woefully under prepared—not only for the deadly games of intrigue and treason, but for the impossible choices she must make. For how can she deliver Death’s vengeance upon a target who, against her will, has stolen her heart?

Scarlet by A.C. Gaughen

Will Scarlet is good at two things: stealing from the rich and keeping secrets - skills that are in high demand in Robin Hood’s band of thieves, who protect the people of Nottingham from the evil sheriff. Scarlet’s biggest secret of all is one only Robin and his men know…that she is posing as a thief; that the slip of a boy who is fast with sharp knives is really a girl.

The terrible events in her past that led Scarlet to hide her real identity are in danger of being exposed when the thief taker Lord Gisbourne arrives in town to rid Nottingham of the Hood and his men once and for all. As Gisbourne closes in a put innocent lives at risk, Scarlet must decide how much the people of Nottingham mean to her, especially John Little, a flirtatious fellow outlaw, and Robin, whose quick smiles have the rare power to unsettle her. There is real honor among these thieves and so much more - making this a fight worth dying for.

Mask of Shadows by Linsey Miller (coming September 5, 2017)

Sallot Leon is a thief, and a good one at that. But gender fluid Sal wants nothing more than to escape the drudgery of life as a highway robber and get closer to the upper-class―and the nobles who destroyed their home. When Sal steals a flyer for an audition to become a member of The Left Hand―the Queen’s personal assassins, named after the rings she wears―Sal jumps at the chance to infiltrate the court and get revenge. But the audition is a fight to the death filled with clever circus acrobats, lethal apothecaries, and vicious ex-soldiers. A childhood as a common criminal hardly prepared Sal for the trials. And as Sal succeeds in the competition, and wins the heart of Elise, an intriguing scribe at court, they start to dream of a new life and a different future, but one that Sal can have only if they survive.

Shadowfell by Juliet Marillier

Sixteen-year-old Neryn is alone in the land of Alban, where the oppressive king has ordered anyone with magical strengths captured and brought before him. Eager to hide her own canny skill–a uniquely powerful ability to communicate with the fairy-like Good Folk–Neryn sets out for the legendary Shadowfell, a home and training ground for a secret rebel group determined to overthrow the evil King Keldec. During her dangerous journey, she receives aid from the Good Folk, who tell her she must pass a series of tests in order to recognize her full potential. She also finds help from a handsome young man, Flint, who rescues her from certain death–but whose motives in doing so remain unclear. Neryn struggles to trust her only allies. They both hint that she alone may be the key to Alban’s release from Keldec’s rule. Homeless, unsure of who to trust, and trapped in an empire determined to crush her, Neryn must make it to Shadowfell not only to save herself, but to save Alban.

Midnight Thief by Livia Blackburne

Growing up on Forge’s streets has taught Kyra how to stretch a coin. And when that’s not enough, her uncanny ability to scale walls and bypass guards helps her take what she needs. But when the leader of the Assassins Guild offers Kyra a lucrative job, she hesitates. She knows how to get by on her own, and she’s not sure she wants to play by his rules. But he’s persistent—and darkly attractive—and Kyra can’t quite resist his pull. Tristam of Brancel is a young Palace knight on a mission. After his best friend is brutally murdered by Demon Riders, a clan of vicious warriors who ride bloodthirsty wildcats, Tristam vows to take them down. But as his investigation deepens, he finds his efforts thwarted by a talented thief, one who sneaks past Palace defenses with uncanny ease. When a fateful raid throws Kyra and Tristam together, the two enemies realize that their best chance at survival—and vengeance—might be to join forces. And as their loyalties are tested to the breaking point, they learn a startling secret about Kyra’s past that threatens to reshape both their lives.

StarCrossed by Elizabeth C. Bunce

Digger thrives as a spy and sneak-thief among the feuding religious factions of Gerse, dodging the Greenmen who have banned all magic. But when a routine job goes horribly wrong and her partner and lover Tegen is killed, she has to get out of the city, fast, and hides herself in a merry group of nobles to do so. Accepted as a lady’s maid to shy young Merista Nemair, Digger finds new peace and friendship at the Nemair stronghold–as well as plenty of jewels for the taking. But after the devious Lord Daul catches her in the act of thievery, he blackmails her into becoming his personal spy in the castle, and Digger soon realizes that her noble hosts aren’t as apolitical as she thought… that indeed, she may be at the heart of a magical rebellion.

The Orphan Queen by Jodi Meadows

Wilhelmina has a hundred identities. She is a princess. When the Indigo Kingdom conquered her homeland, Wilhelmina and other orphaned children of nobility were taken to Skyvale, the Indigo Kingdom’s capital. Ten years later, they are the Ospreys, experts at stealth and theft. With them, Wilhelmina means to take back her throne. She is a spy. Wil and her best friend, Melanie, infiltrate Skyvale Palace to study their foes. They assume the identities of nobles from a wraith-fallen kingdom, but enemies fill the palace, and Melanie’s behavior grows suspicious. With Osprey missions becoming increasingly dangerous and their leader more unstable, Wil can’t trust anyone. She is a threat. Wraith is the toxic by-product of magic, and for a century using magic has been forbidden. Still the wraith pours across the continent, reshaping the land and animals into fresh horrors. Soon it will reach the Indigo Kingdom. Wilhelmina’s magic might be the key to stopping the wraith, but if the vigilante Black Knife discovers Wil’s magic, she will vanish like all the others.

The Falconer by Elizabeth May

She’s a stunner. Edinburgh, 1844. Eighteen-year-old Lady Aileana Kameron, the only daughter of the Marquess of Douglas, has everything a girl could dream of: brains, charm, wealth, a title—and drop-dead beauty. She’s a liar. But Aileana only looks the part of an aristocratic young lady. she’s leading a double life: She has a rare ability to sense the sìthíchean—the faery race obsessed with slaughtering humans—and, with the aid of a mysterious mentor, has spent the year since her mother died learning how to kill them. She’s a murderer. Now Aileana is dedicated to slaying the fae before they take innocent lives. With her knack for inventing ingenious tools and weapons—from flying machines to detonators to lightning pistols—ruthless Aileana has one goal: Destroy the faery who destroyed her mother. She’s a Falconer. The last in a line of female warriors born with a gift for hunting and killing the fae, Aileana is the sole hope of preventing a powerful faery population from massacring all of humanity. Suddenly, her quest is a lot more complicated. She still longs to avenge her mother’s murder—but she’ll have to save the world first.

Daughters of Ruin by K.D. Castner

Rhea, Cadis, Suki, and Iren have lived together since they were children. They are called sisters. They are not. They are called equals. They are not. They are princesses. And they are enemies. A brutal war ravaged their kingdoms, and Rhea’s father was the victor. As a gesture of peace, King Declan brought the daughters of his rivals to live under his protection—and his ever-watchful eye. For ten years they have trained together as diplomats and warriors, raised to accept their thrones and unite their kingdoms in peace. But there is no peace among sisters, and all plans shatter when the palace is attacked. As their intended future lies in ashes, Rhea, Cadis, Suki, and Iren must decide where their loyalties lie: to their nations, or to each other.

The Storyteller by Becky Wallace

In a world where dukes plot their way to the throne, a Performer’s life can get tricky. And in Johanna Von Arlo’s case, it can be fatal. Expelled from her troupe after her father’s death, Johanna is forced to work for the handsome Lord Rafael DeSilva. Too bad they don’t get along. But while Johanna’s father’s death was deemed an accident, the Keepers aren’t so sure. The Keepers, a race of people with magical abilities, are on a quest to find the princess—the same princess who is supposed to be dead and whose throne the dukes are fighting over. But they aren’t the only ones looking for her. And in the wake of their search, murdered girls keep turning up—girls who look exactly like the princess, and exactly like Johanna. With dukes, Keepers, and a killer all after the princess, Johanna finds herself caught up in political machinations for the throne, threats on her life, and an unexpected romance that could change everything.

The Shadow Queen by C.J. Redwine

Lorelai Diederich, crown princess and fugitive at large, has one mission: kill the wicked queen who took both the Ravenspire throne and the life of her father. To do that, Lorelai needs to use the one weapon she and Queen Irina have in common—magic. She’ll have to be stronger, faster, and more powerful than Irina, the most dangerous sorceress Ravenspire has ever seen. In the neighboring kingdom of Eldr, when Prince Kol’s father and older brother are killed by an invading army of magic-wielding ogres, the second-born prince is suddenly given the responsibility of saving his kingdom. To do that, Kol needs magic—and the only way to get it is to make a deal with the queen of Ravenspire, promise to become her personal huntsman…and bring her Lorelai’s heart. But Lorelai is nothing like Kol expected—beautiful, fierce, and unstoppable—and despite dark magic, Lorelai is drawn in by the passionate and troubled king. Fighting to stay one step ahead of the dragon huntsman—who she likes far more than she should—Lorelai does everything in her power to ruin the wicked queen. But Irina isn’t going down without a fight, and her final move may cost the princess the one thing she still has left to lose.

Assassin’s Heart by Sarah Ahiers

In the kingdom of Lovero, nine rival Families of assassins lawfully kill people for a price. As a highly skilled member of one of these powerful clans, seventeen-year-old Lea Saldana has always trusted in the strength of her Family. Until she awakens to find them murdered and her home in flames. The Da Vias, the Saldanas’ biggest enemy, must be responsible—and Lea should have seen it coming. But her secret relationship with the Da Vias’ son, Val, has clouded her otherwise killer instinct—and given the Da Vias more reason than ever to take her Family down. Racked with guilt and shattered over Val’s probable betrayal, Lea sets out to even the score, with her heart set on retaliation and only one thought clear in her mind: make the Da Vias pay.

Sword and Verse by Kathy MacMillan

Raisa was only a child when she was kidnapped and enslaved in Qilara. Forced to serve in the palace of the King, she’s endured hunger, abuse, and the harrowing fear of discovery. Everyone knows that Raisa is Arnath, but not that she is a Learned One, a part of an Arnath group educated in higher order symbols. In Qilara, this language is so fiercely protected that only the King, the Prince, and Tutors are allowed to know it. So when the current Tutor-in-training is executed for sharing the guarded language with slaves and Raisa is chosen to replace her, Raisa knows that, although she may have a privileged position among slaves, any slipup could mean death. That would be challenging enough, but training alongside Prince Mati could be her real undoing. And when a romance blossoms between them, she’s suddenly filled with a dangerous hope for something she never before thought possible: more. Then she’s approached by the Resistance—an underground army of slaves—to help liberate the Arnath people. Joining the Resistance could mean freeing her people…but she’d also be aiding in the war against her beloved, an honorable man she knows wants to help the slaves. Working against the one she loves—and a palace full of deadly political renegades—has some heady consequences. As Raisa struggles with what’s right, she unwittingly uncovers a secret that the Qilarites have long since buried…one that, unlocked, could bring the current world order to its knees. And Raisa is the one holding the key.

Cruel Beauty by Rosamund Hodge

Since birth, Nyx has been betrothed to the evil ruler of her kingdom-all because of a foolish bargain struck by her father. And since birth, she has been in training to kill him. With no choice but to fulfill her duty, Nyx resents her family for never trying to save her and hates herself for wanting to escape her fate. Still, on her seventeenth birthday, Nyx abandons everything she's ever known to marry the all-powerful, immortal Ignifex. Her plan? Seduce him, destroy his enchanted castle, and break the nine-hundred-year-old curse he put on her people. But Ignifex is not at all what Nyx expected. The strangely charming lord beguiles her, and his castle—a shifting maze of magical rooms—enthralls her. As Nyx searches for a way to free her homeland by uncovering Ignifex's secrets, she finds herself unwillingly drawn to him. Even if she could bring herself to love her sworn enemy, how can she refuse her duty to kill him? With time running out, Nyx must decide what is more important: the future of her kingdom, or the man she was never supposed to love.

The Kingdom of Little Wounds by Susann Cokal

On the eve of Princess Sophia’s wedding, the Scandinavian city of Skyggehavn prepares to fete the occasion with a sumptuous display of riches. Yet beneath the veneer of celebration, a shiver of darkness creeps through the palace halls. A mysterious illness plagues the royal family, threatening the lives of the throne’s heirs, and a courtier’s wolfish hunger for the king’s favors sets a devious plot in motion. Here in the palace at Skyggehavn, things are seldom as they seem—and when a single errant prick of a needle sets off a series of events that will alter the course of history, the fates of seamstress Ava Bingen and mute nursemaid Midi Sorte become irrevocably intertwined. As they navigate a tangled web of palace intrigue, power-lust, and deception, Ava and Midi must carve out their own survival any way they can.

The Great Hunt by Wendy Higgins

When a strange beast terrorizes the kingdom of Lochlanach, fear stirs revolt. In an act of desperation, a proclamation is sent to all of Eurona—kill the creature and win the ultimate prize: the daughter of King Lochson’s hand in marriage. Princess Aerity knows her duty to the kingdom but cannot bear the idea of marrying a stranger... until a brooding local hunter, Paxton Seabolt, catches her attention. There’s no denying the unspoken lure between them... or his mysterious resentment. Paxton is not the marrying type. Nor does he care much for spoiled royals and their arcane laws. He’s determined to keep his focus on the task at hand—ridding the kingdom of the beast—but the princess continues to surprise him, and the perilous secrets he’s buried begin to surface.

Hunted by Meagan Spooner (coming March 14, 2017)

Beauty knows the Beast’s forest in her bones—and in her blood. Though she grew up with the city’s highest aristocrats, far from her father’s old lodge, she knows that the forest holds secrets and that her father is the only hunter who’s ever come close to discovering them. So when her father loses his fortune and moves Yeva and her sisters back to the outskirts of town, Yeva is secretly relieved. Out in the wilderness, there’s no pressure to make idle chatter with vapid baronessas…or to submit to marrying a wealthy gentleman. But Yeva’s father’s misfortune may have cost him his mind, and when he goes missing in the woods, Yeva sets her sights on one prey: the creature he’d been obsessively tracking just before his disappearance. Deaf to her sisters’ protests, Yeva hunts this strange Beast back into his own territory—a cursed valley, a ruined castle, and a world of creatures that Yeva’s only heard about in fairy tales. A world that can bring her ruin or salvation. Who will survive: the Beauty, or the Beast?

Poison by Bridget Zinn

Sixteen-year-old Kyra, a highly-skilled potions master, is the only one who knows her kingdom is on the verge of destruction—which means she’s the only one who can save it. Faced with no other choice, Kyra decides to do what she does best: poison the kingdom’s future ruler, who also happens to be her former best friend. But, for the first time ever, her poisoned dart . . . misses. Now a fugitive instead of a hero, Kyra is caught in a game of hide-and-seek with the king’s army and her potioner ex-boyfriend, Hal. At least she’s not alone. She’s armed with her vital potions, a too-cute pig, and Fred, the charming adventurer she can’t stop thinking about. Kyra is determined to get herself a second chance (at murder), but will she be able to find and defeat the princess before Hal and the army find her? Kyra is not your typical murderer, and she’s certainly no damsel-in-distress—she’s the lovable and quick-witted hero of this romantic novel that has all the right ingredients to make teen girls swoon.

Frostblood by Elly Blake

Seventeen-year-old Ruby is a Fireblood who has concealed her powers of heat and flame from the cruel Frostblood ruling class her entire life. But when her mother is killed trying to protect her, and rebel Frostbloods demand her help to overthrow their bloodthirsty king, she agrees to come out of hiding, desperate to have her revenge. Despite her unpredictable abilities, Ruby trains with the rebels and the infuriating—yet irresistible—Arcus, who seems to think of her as nothing more than a weapon. But before they can take action, Ruby is captured and forced to compete in the king’s tournaments that pit Fireblood prisoners against Frostblood champions. Now she has only one chance to destroy the maniacal ruler who has taken everything from her—and from the icy young man she has come to love.

I wish this list was more diverse, but that’s what I can think of/find at the moment that I know aren’t super popular. If there’s something YOU think should be on this list, definitely let me know! And if you want more posts like this, I want to know that too! I have a bunch of drafts along these lines, but it’ll help to know what you want to see most.

#this is your mod speaking #book lists #throne of glass #sarah maas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #crown of midnight #heir of fire #empire of storms #queen of shadows #fantasy #ya books #quietYA

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