#she's fighting off the knight king's army in westeros to this

[graunblida]

so this is the theme song for lexa's demigod verse ( norse leaning obvi ) and i'm cackling because it works for all her others too

[baelontargaryen]

Daenerys Targaryen Appreciation Month 2022

Day 26 → The Key Five: Arya Stark

“As you command.” The knight gave her a curious look. “You are your brother’s sister, in truth.”

“Viserys?” She did not understand.

“No,” he answered. “Rhaegar.” He galloped off.

—AGOT, Daenerys VI

“I think you are Rhaegar Targaryen’s sister,” Ser Jorah said with a rueful half smile.

— ASOS, Daenerys IV

“No,” said Alleras. “It was Prince Rhaegar’s young son Aegon whose head was dashed against the wall by the Lion of Lannister’s brave men. We speak of Rhaegar’s sister, born on Dragonstone before its fall. The one they called Daenerys.”

— AFFC, Prologue

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

“Two,” said the old fellow. “One was Rhaegar’s daughter, t’other was his sister.”

[...] “Daenerys,” Davos said. “She was named for the Daenerys who wed the Prince of Dorne during the reign of Daeron the Second. I don’t know what became of her.”

— ADWD, Davos II

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

— ADWD, Daenerys III

And then Prince Aegon spoke. “Then put your hopes on me,” he said. “Daenerys is Prince Rhaegar’s sister, but I am Rhaegar’s son. I am the only dragon that you need.”

...

“Some,” allowed Homeless Harry, “not many. Rhaegar’s sister has dragons. Rhaegar’s son does not. We do not have the strength to take the realm without Daenerys and her army. Her Unsullied.”

— ADWD, The Lost Lord

~

So it was. “I was seven when Elia died. They say I held her daughter Rhaenys once, when I was too young to remember. Aegon will be a stranger to me, whether true or false.” The princess paused. “We looked for Rhaegar’s sister, not his son.” Her father had confided in Ser Daemon when he chose him as his daughter's shield; with him at least she could speak freely. “I would sooner it were Quentyn who’d returned.”

— TWOW, Arianne I

—

“Was ever snow so black?” asked Lord Wyman. “Ramsay took Lord Hornwood’s lands by forcibly wedding his widow, then locked her in a tower and forgot her. It is said she ate her own fingers in her extremity … and the Lannister notion of king’s justice is to reward her killer with Ned Stark’s little girl.”

—ADWD, Davos IV

“And do you imagine the Hornwood men have forgotten the Bastard’s last marriage, and how his lady wife was left to starve, chewing her own fingers? What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned’s precious little girl.”

— ADWD, The Turncloak

But the wolves insisted; Roose Bolton could not be suffered to hold Winterfell, and the Ned’s girl must be rescued from the clutches of his bastard. So said Morgan Liddle, Brandon Norrey, Big Bucket Wull, the Flints, even the She-Bear.

...

“Ned’s girl,” said Morgan Liddle. He was the second of three sons, so the other wolves called him Middle Liddle, though not often in his hearing.

...

“Ned’s girl,” echoed Big Bucket Wull. “And we should have had her and the castle both if you prancing southron jackanapes didn’t piss your satin breeches at a little snow.”

...

“Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks.”...

— ADWD, The King’s Prize

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt.11

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: none, changing povs, Selmy POV

Words: 1779

Summary: Barristan Selmy finds the most unlikely companion.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 3.5  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21  Part 22 Part 23  Part 24  Part 25  Part 26 Part 27  Part 28  Part 29  Part 30  Part 31  Part 32  Part 33  Part 34

Barristan Selmy had to be careful as he made his way to Starfall. He knew that he would have to evade Rhaegar’s army on the way since he had to pass through the Reach and Stormlands. Not wanting to get caught up in any fights, Barristan moved fast and hidden by shrubbery and woods. He would’ve liked to see Prince Rhaegar in all honesty. But Varys had made it clear that this mission was of the utmost importance and had to be done immediately. Varys informed Selmy that he would tell Aerys that the King’s Guard knight was scouting around Rhaegar’s camps in the south and would send information to them about the enemy.

There was still confliction inside of him though. Conflicted because something about this didn’t feel right. He left the Guard to send a missive and a mysterious box to Rhaegar’s supposedly dead bride. He wasn’t even allowed to tell Rhaegar that the sweet girl he had taken as his queen was still alive in Volantis.

Deciding to take a rest, Barristan pulls his horse over and dismounts; leading her off the main road and back into the covered woods where the terrain was a little more difficult to travel through. The horse gave an annoyed snort and appeared hesitant on entering. With gentle coaxing though, he was able to make her relax and follow. Barristan could hear a nearby stream, possibly a sublet of the Mander River. From the path he had been on previously, he knew he would ultimately hit Tumbleton if he kept following it. He wanted to stay unseen for the most part of his journey.

Finding a nice tree to sit underneath and let his horse graze, Barristan retrieves his map and scans it. Clicking his teeth here and there. There was still a long way to go before he even reached Dorne. Leaning his back against the sturdy trunk, Selmy closes his tired eyes. He had ridden all night to get to where he was, it didn’t seem like much. Already in his late 40’s, Selmy was starting to realize that he couldn’t travel the way he used to when he was younger. His age was starting to catch up on him.

Unconsciously, his hand bumps against his travel sack which Varys’ mystery box lay hidden. Opening his eyes, he glances at the burlap bag. It was out of pure curiosity that he wanted to fiddle with the box to see if he could open. Varys claimed that he hadn’t been able to find a way. What could be in there that would aid (y/n)? What aid did she need exactly and for what?

Guess I’ll figure out when I get to Volantis. Selmy thinks to himself before remembering the first part of his task. Make it to Dorne. To Ashara Dayne in Starfall. Starfall was the perfect place to set sail to Essos. From there, the Summer Sea would grant them a straight passage to Volantis. Granting if the waters would be kind to them.

Out of nowhere there’s the sound of a scuffle, of a fight. Instinct had Selmy jumping onto his feet and grabbing his sword as his ears strained to figure out which direction it came from.

“Stay away from me!” Came the warning yell of a childish voice.

A cruel laugh replies “What do you think you’re going to do to us with that little dagger, dwarf?”

The sound of a sword swing and a surprised yelp. Whoever was being attacked was definitely a child. An unfair fight. Being the man that he was, Barristan heads to the direction of the struggle to find two men harassing a very small, oddly shaped, child. Nothing but basic thugs. There were many of them scattered throughout deserted woods of Westeros, waiting for the right victim.

They heard him coming, but that was alright. That wouldn’t give them the upper hand.

When the child lifted his face though. . .

He knew that face.

It was Tyrion Lannister

“What in the Mother’s name are you doing so far away from home?” Not taking the older knight long to dispatch the other men, Barristan took Tyrion back to camp. “And did you really think you could stop them with that little dagger?”

Quiet since his rescue, Tyrion’s different colored eyes are stuck on the ground. “No. Of course not. But I wasn’t going to go down without fighting. It wasn’t the first time I ran into someone threatening me. That’s why I’m going through the forest instead of through official roads and cities. You run into fewer obstacles that way.”

“You still haven’t answered my question of why you’re out here. Surely your father doesn’t know where you are.”

His small face twisted. “He wouldn’t even care. That’s why it doesn’t matter where I’m going.” Green and black turned to Barristan. “Thank you for saving me. I’ll be on my way now.”

Like he could let this kid go off into the wild by himself. Barristan put himself in Tyrion’s path, craning his neck down so he could meet the young boy’s gaze. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going back to Casterly Rock.”

That made the boy gawk in surprise. “How do you. . .”

“I’m a knight of the King’s Guard, boy. Barristan Selmy. You stayed at King’s Landing for your sister’s wedding.”

There was a bristle that ran around Tyrion’s frame. Unbridled and shaking as the dwarf now became apprehensive of the man in front of him. “I’m not going back to the Rock, ser.”

Crossing his arms, Selmy refused to budge. “A normal child can’t even make it in the wilderness.”

Equally resilient, Tyrion grounded his feet in place. “If you haven’t noticed ser, I made it this far all by myself. Do you know how many bloody mountains there were from Casterly Rock to here? A lot! Not to mention animals that are bigger than me. Yes, I know fully well I’m a dwarf and could be killed at any minute. But I know where I’m going and what I’m doing.” Sticking his hand into his small cloth bag, Tyrion pulled out a rolled up scroll then threw it at Selmy’s feet.

While keeping Tyrion in his line of sight, Barristan Selmy bends down to pick it up. Unrolling it revealed a rather detailed map of the region of the Reach to King’s Landing.

“You’re going to King’s Landing?”

He shakes his head. “No. I’m going to meet up with Rhaegar’s army.”

“What for?”

“To ask him his favorite flavor of pudding. What do you think for?”

This kid had to be crazy. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

The fact that that didn’t seem to phase the boy much bothered Selmy greatly. He sighs, not knowing what to do, and rubs the back of his neck. He couldn’t let this boy go with good conscience. That was out of the question. And if the kid did happen to make it to Rhaegar, what then? Rhaegar had no use for a child, let alone a dwarf. Tyrion was both. He knew that back at King’s Landing, Rhaegar had a soft spot for his brother-in-law. Grief and war does horrible things to a person, and if rumors and Ser Dayne’s letter were true. . . A child should definitely not be present during those violent acts of war.

“And though Rhaegar acts his usual self, during battle. . . He turns into someone entirely else. He fights with a furocity that he never had before. As if his goal was to kill every last enemy all by himself.” He remembers Ser Arthur Dayne’s written words. Selmy didn’t want to think of him in that state.

Really, what reason was there to return Tyrion back to Tywin Lannister. There were so many cons. The boy would be miserable back there and return to being known as the Lannister Dwarf.

It wouldn’t hurt for him to come along for a little bit. More important things to attend to first, Selmy would return the boy when he was done. Plus the boy could see his sister. “Look, you’re not going to Rhaegar and I’m going to return you to Casterly Rock. But not right away. Thing is I have an urgent parcel to deliver in Essos. Utmost urgent that I can’t waste another minute. I’m going to take you along with me and return you once the parcel has been delivered.”

Immediately the boy’s eyes gleamed. “Essos?”

“Yes, have you ever been?”

A small shake of the head.

“Well now you’ll have something interesting to say when you go back home.” Finally relaxing, Barristan returns to his spot under the tree.

“Where are we porting from?” Tyrion eagerly inquired as he sat down next to Selmy as he spread out his own map.

His finger traces a line from where they were at down south. Stopping at the Red Mountains, he explains “From here we’ll go through the Torentine River. All the way to Starfall. That is where we’re leaving port from. Someone I know there will give us a ship to sail through the Summer Sea to Volantis. It’s a very delicate mission. We can’t be detected and no one must know our actual identity. Safer so no one catches wind that a King’s Guard knight and a child that looks a lot like a certain Lannister Lord’s son.”

“What is it that we’re even delivering? And why are you doing it? Like you said, you’re in the King’s Guard. Isn’t there something better you should be doing with your time?”

Selmy laughs and shows Tyrion the box. “Don’t even ask me what’s inside it. I don’t even know myself.”

For a moment, his small hands struggle to hold it but eventually gets used to the weight and examines it. Nails run along the seam. Thumping at the bulky metal latch that had no keyhole. “Odd.”

“It’s owner must know the inner mechanisms that unlock it.” Shrugging, Selmy puts away his map and starts packing his horse. “I was just told that it was incredibly important.”

The boy fantasized what could possibly be the important item inside. It wasn’t big enough to hold a sword, nor an axe or any other weapon that could be used in battle. Maybe there was a secret tome in there? Full of the incantations of magic.

“Be forewarned, this won’t be a two-day vacation. This could possibly be a month or two.”

“I don’t care. Not like I have anything to do at home anyway.”

Whatever it was, Tyrion held onto it tightly as he and Selmy got on his horse and rode off.

------

Taglist:

@boywivlove​

@esposadomd​​

[dtyfp2]

The Face That Launched A Thousand Ships

The Great War

Princess Helen was 5 and 10 when the remnants of House Reyne stole her right off the Kings road, killing a member of the Kingsguard and 5 other guards travelling with her.

She had been on her way to visit her grandfather at Casterly Rock, she had fallen asleep in her carriage and woken to the sound of swords being drawn and yelling. Luckily, she was not harmed in the initial capture.

When word got out she was taken, every great lord in the entirety of the seven kingdoms sent men to fight for her release, some without even being asked. Surprisingly, Dorne sent a solid third of its army, with Prince Doran claiming the princess had been nothing but pleasant when she had visited a few years ago, and that the stealing of little girls was cowardly. The North sent men, the Riverlands sent men, the Vale, the Westerlands, the Crownlands, the Reach, even the Ironborn. War ships were launched for the first time since Robert’s rebellion, they were launched enmasse, so much so that the royal recorders couldn’t even count them all. Never in the history of the Westeros had the 7 Kingdoms come together like they had for their Princess Helen.

Even Robert had come out from his castle, joining the army that grew outside Castamere’s walls. With all seven kingdoms united for the first time in its history, many were beginning to call them the “great army”.

“…They have my daughter!” Robert yells, his fist coming down on the table so hard that the men around feared the table had cracked. Robert grew tired of hearing the men bicker on how to best save the princess, he wanted his daughter safe and next to him as soon as possible.

“The Reyne’s should’ve been killed years ago, you should’ve killed then all,” Robert grits as he turns his head over to Tywin, who has called all his banners the moment he heard what had happened.

Tywin bites his tongue. The Reyne that took you was a bastard son of the last Lord, nobody knew he existed. Now, the bastard demands his birthright, along with some sell swords and bandits he’s somehow recruited to his cause.

“We cannot storm the doors, we cannot be certain they wouldn’t just kill the princess when they realize there’s no way out for them,” Lord Jon Arryn calms everyone as he brings the focus back to their plan.

“We cannot starve them out, the princess will surely be the first to perish,” Jon continues.

Ser Barristan stands guard in the tent. He has listened to these great nobles argue for hours, he has watched Robert’s anger flare. Behind his anger however, was only a father worried about his daughter. Ser Barristan worries too, like a father, he had wanted to escort you to Casterly Rock but he was needed at the Red Keep when a Dorne ambassador had come to treat with the King. The same ambassador later had returned to Dorne in record time when Princess Helen was taken, and he later returned with nearly 300 ships and 10,000 men. Ser Selmy regrets that he hadn’t gone, you would be safe if he had gone. He was starting to get antsy, standing around while his charge was in danger did not suit him.

No one in the tent said what they were all thinking, they couldn’t even be sure the princess was still alive. It had been nearly an entire moon cycle since she was taken. They were running out of time.

“My King,” Ser Barristan steps forward. All eyes turn to him.

“The Lord Hand is right, we cannot storm the castle and we cannot wait any longer. Allow me to infiltrate the castle, I will get in and bring the Princess home,” Ser Barristan suggests, volunteering himself for what seemed to be a suicide mission.

“We have no idea how many men they have inside,” Renly Baratheon crosses his arms as he glances over at Ser Selmy. Despite his age, he was still one of the greatest knights in Westeros.

“I know, my Lord,” Ser Selmy nods, his head held high.

“You’ve done the same for Aerys Targaryen once, haven’t you?” Stannis asks, never having completely trusted the Lord Commander.

“Yes, once,” Ser Selmy answers simply. Not even when Aerys was taken, did the realm come together like this. But they did for Helen.

Robert thinks it over.

“You want to go alone?” Robert asks.

“Less chance of getting caught, your grace. Less danger to the Princess,” Barristan answers.

Robert orders everyone to get out, leaving Ser Barristan alone with the King.

For the first time in a long time, Robert looks vulnerable. Barristan didn’t think Robert was a great king, not by a long shot, but he couldn’t ever say Robert did not love his children, his eldest especially.

“If you save Helen, I’d forever be in your debt.”

——————————————————————————

Barristan doesn’t wear his armour, he brings only his sword as he climbs over the wall.

He stays close to the wall, hiding in the shadows as he carefully ascends the staircase. He had already killed 3 men, guards who had gotten in his way.

Ser Barristan had never been inside the castle, but Tywin had offered a quick layout as he readied himself to enter. She was likely to be held near the center, to be watched from all sides.

Ser Barristan finds her tied up in the middle of, what seemed to be, the great dining hall. She seemed to be asleep, unharmed for the most part.

She was being guarded by one man, who Ser Barristan makes quick work of, slitting his throat from the behind. The muffled gasping and gurgling wakes the princess, whose mouth opens to scream before she recognizes Ser Barristan.

“Hush Princess, it’s only me. Are you hurt? Have they hurt you?” He asks as he kneels down before you, cutting the rope to free you as you stare at the bloody man in front of you. You struggle for words, unable to come up with anything until Ser Selmy forces you to look at him.

“Princess, did they hurt you?” He repeats. You shake your head as he ushers you up, glancing around as he pulls you.

“Stay close to me princess, I’m going to get you out of here,” he promises you. You keep hold of his shirt in one hand so you don’t lose him, hiding behind him at every shadow and turn. You don’t dare look back in fear your captors would be behind you.

“The Princess is escaping!”

You were spotted. Ser Barristan throws a knife, right through the head of the man who spotted you, but not before he could warn the others.

“Run princess,” Ser Barristan exclaims. He grabs your hand and takes off, not bothering to hide anymore as the yells and orders of Reyne men fill the castle. Barristan pushes you in front of him as they send arrows your way. You scream as one flies by your head. You hear Barristan grunt behind you. He had been hit, but he ran all the same. He swings his sword occasionally, cutting down any man that got in your way, but he stays with you.

You run so hard you can feel your lungs feel dry. Your heart aches for reprieved, but your legs continue loving. He leads you outside along the wall, where a rope was attached. You glance over the edge towards the ocean, the sea so packed with ships that you can barely see the water. Were they all here for you?

You’re stopped when a soldier blocks your path. You fear this is the end, for you cannot go forward nor backward. But just as he raises his sword and you shut your eyes, you can hear a screech and then screaming. When you open them, Balerion is on top of the man, plucking out his eyes as his long talons scrap down the side of your attackers face. You cover your mouth with your hand, half to quell the scream, half so you don’t puke at the sight in front of you.

“We must keep going princess,” Ser Barristan says as he grabs your arm, forcing you to step over the, now, dead man as you continue on.

“There are men down there, they’ll keep you safe. Go, I’ll hold them back,” Ser Barristan tells you as he shoves the rope into your hand. There isn’t even time to argue, you don’t even have time to beg him to go with you. He’s forced to raise his sword to fight off some Reyne men as you meagrely climb down. Balerion stays with him, from what you can hear, but you cannot see. As you get closer to the bottom, Ser Meryn Trant is quick to drag you away, despite the fact you kick and scream, wishing to wait for Barristan.

Back at camp, your father waits.

“Helen!”

“Father!” You weep openly, finally you can weep. You hadn’t allowed yourself to cry in the presence of your captors, you did not want to appear weak. You were a princess, you couldn’t be.

You jump into your father’s embrace, crying as he holds you, gently shushing you. He asks if they hurt you, and you can only shake your head.

“Oh, my darling princess, I was so worried,” your father sighs as he holds you. He brings you over to the Maester to be checked, and many high lords come to set eyes on you, though you worry for Ser Barristan. You worry so terribly you fear you may become sick.

Balerion finds you as Maester Pycelle gently wraps your wrist, which began to ache and pain after being tied up for so long. Your falcon sits beside you, bloody from his battles, daring anyone to come near you. To ease your own anxiety, you gently pet your falcon as you blink back tears.

It’s daybreak when Ser Barristan is brought. He has suffered worse than an arrow to the back, for he had been cut with swords. His face was bruised and bloody, but he was alive and standing, which was more than he could say for his opponents. Your grandfather obliterated the rest of the Reyne’s as you sat by Barristan’s side.

After the Maesters, and Ser Barristan, assures you that he will be alright, you allow yourself to be taken by some ladies to be washed and cleaned. You make it your personal mission to thank the men that have come all this way, even drafting letters for them to take back to their liege Lords. You find the Dornish ambassador and thank him profusely, and he promises to deliver your letter to Prince Doran as he departs back to Dorne.

“…have all these men come for me?” You ask your father as you look out onto the bay, so filled to the brim with ships you wondered how they may all leave.

“You are their Princess, they should come whenever you need aid,” your father answers as he places his hand on your shoulder.

“There must be a thousand ships, father,” you think out loud.

It is after the men see you, face sunken with past fear-though it somehow makes your beauty more pronounced- that they begin to call you, “the face that launched a thousand ships.”

[blue-mint-winter]

Reading Fire and Blood: Aftermath - The Hour of the Wolf

Cregan came, Cregan saw, Cregan laid down the law ;)

This chapter seems more believable in its tales, though there's a lot of obvious biases and the reader needs to puzzle out the real reasons for the characters acting in certain ways.

The riverlords turn up at King's Landing, with young Kermit and Oscar Tully wanting to fight and prove themselves - and they are greeted very warmly, Aegon II is already dead, the city cheers - you know what this reminds me of? Again, Maegor and Visenya going to burn Oldtown, only to be welcomed with open gates and High Septon already dead.

They burned Aegon II's body so no one could examine it and find out how exactly he was killed - remember how in High Septon's case there was a theory about maesters poisoning the scroll he touched and that he was trading messages with the Citadel all night? If it was found out that Aegon II wasn't killed by poison in the wine, but on parchment, with traces still on his fingers, it would confirm Orwyle as the killer. The small council was talking about the messages they received about the Black forces arriving soon. And who was handling any messages that ravens brought and could poison and pass those messages to Aegon's hands? Orwyle.

Kermit and Oscar Tully blushed and stammered whenever Cregan entered the room - alright, so he was their crush? Maester tries to present it like they were boys and Cregan was a man, but Cregan was 23, Kermit was 19 and Oscar was just knighted, so around 16? Grouping the Tullys together as "only boys" with Benjicot Blackwood, who was 13, seems weird. Cregan was only 4 years older than Kermit. Idk, maybe the Tullys developed a case of "notice me, senpai". Cregan gives me Jon Snow vibes, if he was older and more grown into the role of leadership. And Jon had a pull on the young recruits of Night's Watch.

The northmen are described in a very unflattering way, like an army of savages intent for war and plunder. There's a lot of fearmongering surrounding them, which is proven completely untrue when majority of them settles in the Riverlands later on. They really are just people that wanted to unburden their families during a long winter. This fear and distrust shows how culturally distant North is from the rest of Westeros. Cregan himself is portrayed as a rather scary and authoritarian man, which might be completely off the mark. I don't think he scared the Lads to agree with him and attack Storm's End. He was speaking with sense - the war was not done, the Greens didn't bend the knee and they could even proclaim Jaehaera as the queen. Taking King's Landing didn't solve anything by itself.

Despite Cregan showing up, there's no news about Sara Snow or her child with Jace. If that child existed and Jace really married Sara, then the child would have been the true heir to the throne, not Jace's younger brother Aegon III. That's why I think the mystery is definitely solved - Mushroom made up Jace's affair with Sara and it's uncertain if she even existed in the first place.

It really looks like Cregan honestly wanted to clean up the house for Aegon III, that's why he did the trial. In the end, the "tyrannical" Stark killed only 2 people, the rest of potential traitors got out by joining Night's Watch.

Orwyle started writing his testimony when he was imprisoned by Cregan. Of course he was spinning his lies then and somehow Munkun based his "True Telling" mainly on that. Orwyle is the main suspect in killing both Aegon II and Viserys! I might make a whole theory about Orwyle's role in the Dance. He confessed under torture that he gave poison to Larys. Larys' loyalty was seemingly very changeable, so he was a convenient scapegoat. As it keeps happening, confessions under torture aren't reliable and usually people say what the torturers want them to say. Orwyle could have been just covering his own behind as Larys was already the main suspect. Larys himself deserves his own analysis. He's often used as the maester's fall guy for some unexplained events, but as of now, every time I see Gyldayn or Munkun go "we don't know for sure, but it was totally that guy who did it", then it's definitely not that guy.

Attributing the peacemaking to women marrying the major remaining Greens and Blacks seems romantic, not realistic. It's literally said that Lyonel Hightower had two brothers with Redwynes and Tyrells. These brothers were clearly used as hostages. Not to mention how High Septon distanced himself from Hightowers after they lost their puppet king. How does having a romance with Lady Samantha Tarly change anything? Hightowers still fought against the Blacks when she was married to Ormund.

What exactly does Alysanne Blackwood get from offering herself to Cregan in exchange for Corlys??? That negotiation sounded completely off. Why would Blackwoods want to help Corlys? Additionally, both Cregan and Alysanne wanted each other anyway, so Alysanne asking for Corlys to be spared as her price makes no sense. She's marrying Lord Paramount of the North, she's benefiting more from this. I truly think sparing Corlys had nothing to do with the proposal and it's just Mushroom's romantic tall tale. There are 4 reasons why Corlys should live: Baela, Rhaena and her dragon, and Alyn.

[jonquildove]

thesilverhairedkhaleesi:

As the boat docked at the waters edge of Westeros Dany made her way to the hull of the ship. Taking in a deep breath she, she let the cool air sting her lungs. She wasn’t used to these low temperatures, and she had to pull her hood up over her to shield herself from the cold. She had travelled across the seas with her Unsullied soldiers, her dragons flying through the sky with their large wings and breathing fire, the people in the castle running for cover from their fiery breath. As a dragon was not a slave. As she made her way off the boat, she noticed the young girl standing near a pallet of goods. She had the fair red hair and soft features that matched the description of the individuals she was told to meet upon her arrival. Advising her army’s commander to seek shelter for her awesome dragons, her commander being Grey Worm, she made her way over to the girl. Rhaegal is on her shoulder, her dragon breathing red wisps of fire. She missed her son Rhaego, the stallion who mounted the world, having dreamed of her khal and him in the afterlife. It had been snowing, and she had gone into the tent, seeing him cradling her son. It was a beautiful life, another life with him. Her hair shines gold in the snow, as she wistfully looks at him, touching his face. He was at peace now, she saw. She trusted the brown skinned man called Grey Worm, he saying he was proud to have this name, as that was when she had freed him from being a slave. He had been in Astapor for a long time, there being masters like Kraznys, he being sold when he was a babe. The masters had been cruel, whipping the soldiers, even though they did not feel, the cruelty was not lost on them. They had killed the masters, Daenerys saying to do so. He fought valiantly with the Sons of the Harpy, they wearing golden hawk masks, like the harpy statue in Yunkai. Fighting in the alley, where the brothel girl had pointed to. He realised, as he walked there with only a handful of Unsullied, they patrolling the streets as per every night, the main battle over, that the girl had tricked them, had killed White Rat, his friend and fellow soldier. He was a very good warrior, fighting with the spear, and wounding and killing the harpies, yet they had stabbed and wounded him, he bleeding. Barristan Selmy had come to his aid, and together, they fought the remaining men. As she approached the girl, she was shocked by how young the maiden was. Surely this couldn’t be the girl that had been through so much, as told in her previous letters. Varys had sent letters to her, or one of his spies had, as he was the spider in the garden of King's Landing, he and Tyrion hearing about a possible good ruler for Westeros across the narrow seas. Dany herself had also been through so much in her short life. She hoped that the two could work together, and possibly become fast friends. “Excuse me.” She asked “But would you by chance be Sansa Stark?”

Sansa looks over at the pale blonde-haired woman whom had just gotten off the ship. She had been waiting to meet the dragon woman, who had been ruling one of the Free Cities. They could rule together, she thought. Joffrey was a cruel tyrant, she wishing there to be a kinder monarch. She read about the Targaryen dynasty, liking the stories of knights fighting monsters and rescuing princesses. She read who Princess Alyssa was, whom was named after the waterfall in the Eyrie. She had been in Jaehaerys’s reign, he and Alysanne, the good queen, bearing her. She had loved water. She looking through the book, gently handling the tatters when Joffrey cut through it with a sword. She uncreasing the pages, and singing through them. Tyrion had given the book to him as a wedding present. “Afternoon, Your Grace…” Sansa smiled at the woman. “Yes, my name is Sansa.” “–And you’re Queen Daenerys, I’m guessing?”

[reginarubie]

Queen you shall be ~ book vibes + show foreshadowings of the book-plots

Queen you shall be, the old woman had promised, with her lips still wet and red and glistening, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear. — Cersei III, AFFC

The queen, Cersei Lannister and the possible candidates for the role of younger, more beautiful queen.

She dreamt she sat the Iron Throne, high above them all. The courtiers were brightly colored mice below. Great lords and proud ladies knelt before her. Bold young knights laid their swords at her feet and pleaded for her favors, and the queen smiled down at them. Until the dwarf appeared as if from nowhere, pointing at her and howling with laughter. The lords and ladies began to chuckle too, hiding their smiles behind their hands. Only then did the queen realize she was naked. — Cersei I, AFFC

"I govern the realm." Seven save us all, you do. His sister liked to think of herself as Lord Tywin with teats, but she was wrong. Their father had been as relentless and implacable as a glacier, where Cersei was all wildfire, especially when thwarted. She had been giddy as a maiden when she learned that Stannis had abandoned Dragonstone, certain that he had finally given up the fight and sailed away to exile. When word came down from the north that he had turned up again at the Wall, her fury had been fearful to behold. She does not lack for wits, but she has no judgment, and no patience. "You need a strong Hand to help you." "A weak ruler needs a strong Hand, as Aerys needed Father. A strong ruler requires only a diligent servant to carry out his orders." She swirled her wine. "Lord Hallyne might suit. He would not be the first pyromancer to serve as the King's Hand." — Jaime II, AFFC

Though she had been too young to witness the spectacle herself, Cersei had heard the stories growing up from the mouths of washerwomen and guardsmen who had been there. They spoke of how the woman had wept and begged, of the desperate way she clung to her garments when she was commanded to disrobe, of her futile efforts to cover her breasts and her sex with her hands as she hobbled barefoot and naked through the streets to exile. "Vain and proud she was, before," she remembered one guard saying, "so haughty you'd think she'd forgot she come from dirt. Once we got her clothes off her, though, she was just another whore."

If Ser Kevan and the High Sparrow thought that it would be the same with her, they were very much mistaken. Lord Tywin's blood was in her. I am a lioness. I will not cringe for them.

The queen shrugged off her robe.

(...)

"Harlot," a voice screamed.

(...) I am not afraid. I am a lioness. She walked on.

— Cersei II, ADWD

Daenerys Targaryen, queen in the East, claimant to the Iron throne

Slaves, Dany thought. Khal Drogo would drive them downriver to one of the towns on Slaver's Bay. She wanted to cry, but she told herself that she must be strong. This is war, this is what it looks like, this is the price of the Iron Throne. — Daenerys VII, AGOT "Viserys is dead. I am his heir, the last blood of House Targaryen. Whatever was his is mine now." — Daenerys X, AGOT

I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father.

But before she could do that she must conquer. — Daenerys II, ACOK

"Sellswords have their uses," Ser Jorah admitted, "but you will not win your father's throne with sweepings from the Free Cities. Nothing knits a broken realm together so quick as an invading army on its soil."

"I am their rightful queen," Dany protested.

"You are a stranger who means to land on their shores with an army of outlanders who cannot even speak the Common Tongue. The lords of Westeros do not know you, and have every reason to fear and mistrust you. You must win them over before you sail. A few at least." — Daenerys III, ACOK

It was hard to summon the will to speak, to recall the words she had practiced so assiduously. "I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros." Do they hear me? Why don't they move? She sat, folding her hands in her lap. "Grant me your counsel, and speak to me with the wisdom of those who have conquered death." — Daenerys IV, ACOK

Dany knew she would take more than a hundred, if she took any at all. "Remind your Good Master of who I am. Remind him that I am Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, trueborn queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. My blood is the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and of old Valyria before him." — Daenerys II, ASOS

“I know what Aegon proved, I mean to prove a few things of my own” (...)

"Done," the old Grazdan answered in his thick Valyrian.

The others echoed that old man of the pearl fringe. "Done," the slave girl translated, "and done, and done, eight times done."

(...)

 "Is it done, then? Do they belong to me?"

"It is done," he agreed, giving the chain a sharp pull to bring Drogon down from the litter.

(...)

She stood in her stirrups and raised the harpy's fingers above her head for all the Unsullied to see. "IT IS DONE!" she cried at the top of her lungs. "YOU ARE MINE!" She gave the mare her heels and galloped along the first rank, holding the fingers high. "YOU ARE THE DRAGON'S NOW! YOU'RE BOUGHT AND PAID FOR! IT IS DONE! IT IS DONE!"

(...)

"Unsullied!" Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. "Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see." She raised the harpy's fingers in the air . . . and then she flung the scourge aside. "Freedom!" she sang out. "Dracarys! Dracarys!"

— Daenerys III, ASOS

A boy came, younger than Dany, slight and scarred, dressed up in a frayed grey tokar trailing silver fringe. His voice broke when he told of how two of his father's household slaves had risen up the night the gate broke. One had slain his father, the other his elder brother. Both had raped his mother before killing her as well. The boy had escaped with no more than the scar upon his face, but one of the murderers was still living in his father's house, and the other had joined the queen's soldiers as one of the Mother's Men. He wanted them both hanged.

[btw, people still think she'll accept either Jon or Aegon as Rhaegar's children? — I mean this boy is basically a foil of either or both of them, his elder sibling(s) has been killed by two men as his father has been slaughtered, his mother raped and later killed... does this not remind anyone of Elia, Lyanna, Rhaenys and Rhaegar?, Yet Daenerys refuses him, even knowing her slavers have done something hideous to someone she should feel inclined to protect a woman, who possibly had no agency and a child]

I am queen over a city built on dust and death. Dany had no choice but to deny him. She had declared a blanket pardon for all crimes committed during the sack. Nor would she punish slaves for rising up against their masters. — Daenerys I, ADWD

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros? I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I. — Daenerys II, ADWD

"None, this one grieves to confess. We beg your pardon."

Mercy, thought Dany. They will have the dragon's mercy. "Skahaz, I have changed my mind. Question the man sharply."

"I could. Or I could question the daughters sharply whilst the father looks on. That will wring some names from him."

"Do as you think best, but bring me names." Her fury was a fire in her belly. "I will have no more Unsullied slaughtered. Grey Worm, pull your men back to their barracks. Henceforth let them guard my walls and gates and person. From this day, it shall be for Meereenese to keep the peace in Meereen. Skahaz, make me a new watch, made up in equal parts of shavepates and freedmen.

— Daenerys II, ADWD

Margaery Tyrell, briefly queen consort to Joffrey Baratheon, consort to king Tommen Baratheon

Margaery was different, though. Sweet and gentle, yet there was a little of her grandmother in her, too. The day before last she'd taken Sansa hawking. It was the first time she had been outside the city since the battle. — Sansa II, ASOS

But why? Sansa wondered when she was alone. It made her uneasy. I'll wager this gown is Margaery's doing somehow, or her grandmother's.

Margaery's kindness had been unfailing, and her presence changed everything. Her ladies welcomed Sansa as well. It had been so long since she had enjoyed the company of other women, she had almost forgotten how pleasant it could be. — Sansa II, ASOS

I will need to move carefully with that one. The city was full of his men, and he'd even managed to plant one of his sons in the Kingsguard, and meant to plant his daughter in Tommen's bed. It still made her furious to think that Father had agreed to betroth Tommen to Margaery Tyrell.  — Cersei I, AFFC

 The old woman was twice as clever as her lord son, that was plain. — Cersei II, AFFC

She is pretty enough, she had to admit, but most of that is youth. Even peasant girls are pretty at a certain age, when they are still fresh and innocent and unspoiled, and most of them have the same brown hair and brown eyes as she does. Only a fool would ever claim she was more beautiful than I. The world was full of fools, however. So was her son's court. — Cersei III, AFFC

But the king was deaf to sense, thanks to his little queen. "If we mingle with the commons, they will love us better."

"The mob loved the fat High Septon so well they tore him limb from limb, and him a holy man," she reminded him. All it did was make him sullen with her. Just as Margaery wants, I wager. Every day in every way she tries to steal him from me. Joffrey would have seen through her schemer's smile and let her know her place, but Tommen was more gullible. She knew Joff was too strong for her, Cersei thought, remembering the gold coin Qyburn had found. For House Tyrell to hope to rule, he had to be removed. It came back to her that Margaery and her hideous grandmother had once plotted to marry Sansa Stark to the little queen's crippled brother Willas. Lord Tywin had forestalled that by stealing a march on them and wedding Sansa to Tyrion, but the link had been there. They are all in it together, she realized with a start. The Tyrells bribed the gaolers to free Tyrion, and whisked him down the roseroad to join his vile bride. By now the both of them are safe in Highgarden, hidden away behind a wall of roses.

— Cersei VI, AFFC

Brienne of Tarth, the ‘great beauty’, sworn shield of lady Catelyn Stark and sworn to find and protect her daughters.

"Children are a battle of a different sort." Catelyn started across the yard. "A battle without banners or warhorns, but no less fierce. Carrying a child, bringing it into the world . . . your mother will have told you of the pain . . ."

"I never knew my mother," Brienne said. "My father had ladies . . . a different lady every year, but . . ."

"Those were no ladies," Catelyn said. "As hard as birth can be, Brienne, what comes after is even harder. At times I feel as though I am being torn apart. Would that there were five of me, one for each child, so I might keep them all safe."

"Brienne, I have taken many wellborn ladies into my service over the years, but never one like you. I am no battle commander."

"No, but you have courage. Not battle courage perhaps but . . . I don't know . . . a kind of woman's courage. And I think, when the time comes, you will not try and hold me back. Promise me that. That you will not hold me back from Stannis."

Catelyn could still hear Stannis saying that Robb's turn too would come in time. It was like a cold breath on the back of her neck. "When the time comes, I will not hold you back." — Catelyn V, ACOK

Brienne curled up beneath her cloak, with Podrick yawning at her side. I was not always wary, she might have shouted down at Crabb. When I was a little girl I believed that all men were as noble as my father. Even the men who told her what a pretty girl she was, how tall and bright and clever, how graceful when she danced. It was Septa Roelle who had lifted the scales from her eyes. "They only say those things to win your lord father's favor," the woman had said. "You'll find truth in your looking glass, not on the tongues of men." It was a harsh lesson, one that left her weeping, but it had stood her in good stead at Harrenhal when Ser Hyle and his friends had played their game. A maid has to be mistrustful in this world, or she will not be a maid for long, she was thinking, as the rain began to fall. — Brienne IV, AFFC

"A daughter." Brienne's eyes filled with tears. "He deserves that. A daughter who could sing to him and grace his hall and bear him grandsons. He deserves a son too, a strong and gallant son to bring honor to his name. Galladon drowned when I was four and he was eight, though, and Alysanne and Arianne died still in the cradle. I am the only child the gods let him keep. The freakish one, not fit to be a son or daughter." — Brienne VI, AFFC

Seven, Brienne thought again, despairing. She had no chance against seven, she knew. No chance, and no choice.

She stepped out into the rain, Oathkeeper in hand. "Leave her be. If you want to rape someone, try me."

The oulaws turned as one. One laughed, and another said something in a tongue Brienne did not know. The huge one with the broad white face gave a malevolent hiss. The man in the Hound's helm began to laugh. "You're even uglier than I remembered. I'd sooner rape your horse." — Brienne VII, AFFC

Sansa Stark, princess in the North to her brothers, currently hiding in the Vale.

"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. — Sansa VI, ACOK

Across the city, thousands had jammed into the Great Sept of Baelor on Visenya's Hill, and they would be singing too, their voices swelling out over the city, across the river, and up into the sky. Surely the gods must hear us, she thought.

Sansa knew most of the hymns, and followed along on those she did not know as best she could. She sang along with grizzled old serving men and anxious young wives, with serving girls and soldiers, cooks and falconers, knights and knaves, squires and spit boys and nursing mothers. She sang with those inside the castle walls and those without, sang with all the city. She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike, for Bran and Rickon and Robb, for her sister Arya and her bastard brother Jon Snow, away off on the Wall. She sang for her mother and her father, for her grandfather Lord Hoster and her uncle Edmure Tully, for her friend Jeyne Poole, for old drunken King Robert, for Septa Mordane and Ser Dontos and Jory Cassel and Maester Luwin, for all the brave knights and soldiers who would die today, and for the children and the wives who would mourn them, and finally, toward the end, she even sang for Tyrion the Imp and for the Hound. He is no true knight but he saved me all the same, she told the Mother. Save him if you can, and gentle the rage inside him.

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

He had not been dead when she left the throne room. He had been on his knees, though, clawing at his throat, tearing at his own skin as he fought to breathe. The sight of it had been too terrible to watch, and she had turned and fled, sobbing. Lady Tanda had been fleeing as well. "You have a good heart, my lady," she said to Sansa. "Not every maid would weep so for a man who set her aside and wed her to a dwarf."

A good heart. I have a good heart. Hysterical laughter rose up her gullet, but Sansa choked it back down. The bells were ringing, slow and mournful. Ringing, ringing, ringing. They had rung for King Robert the same way. Joffrey was dead, he was dead, he was dead, dead, dead. Why was she crying, when she wanted to dance? Were they tears of joy? — Sansa V, ASOS

A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here.

Yet she stepped out all the same.

She pushed two of her snowballs together, added a third, packed more snow in around them, and patted the whole thing into the shape of a cylinder. When it was done, she stood it on end and used the tip of her little finger to poke holes in it for windows. The crenellations around the top took a little more care, but when they were done she had a tower. I need some walls now, Sansa thought, and then a keep. She set to work.

The snow fell and the castle rose. (...) It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. She found twigs and fallen branches beneath the snow and broke off the ends to make the trees for the godswood. For the gravestones in the lichyard she used bits of bark. Soon her gloves and her boots were crusty white, her hands were tingling, and her feet were soaked and cold, but she did not care. The castle was all that mattered. — Sansa VII, ASOS

"When Robert dies. Our poor brave Sweetrobin is such a sickly boy, it is only a matter of time. When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . . and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back . . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright. So those are your gifts from me, my sweet Sansa . . . Harry, the Eyrie, and Winterfell.” — Alayne II, AFFC

"What if Lord Nestor values honor more than profit?" Petyr put his arm around her. "What if it is truth he wants, and justice for his murdered lady?" He smiled. "I know Lord Nestor, sweetling. Do you imagine I'd ever let him harm my daughter?"

I am not your daughter, she thought. I am Sansa Stark, Lord Eddard's daughter and Lady Catelyn's, the blood of Winterfell. 

"A touch of fear will not be out of place, Alayne. You've seen a fearful thing. Nestor will be moved." Petyr studied her eyes, as if seeing them for the first time. "You have your mother's eyes. Honest eyes, and innocent. Blue as a sunlit sea. When you are a little older, many a man will drown in those eyes." — Sansa I, AFFC

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

It was clever. The tourney, the prizes, the winged knights, it had all been her own notion. Lord Robert's mother had filled him full of fears, but he always took courage from the tales she read him of Ser Artys Arryn, the Winged Knight of legend, founder of his line. Why not surround him with Winged Knights?  — Alayne I, WOW

All of them are strong, they simply display strength in a different manner. All of them are clever and goal-oriented, the way they go about achieving those goals differs. All of them are passionate, the way they purpose that passion differ. All of them love their family, the way they honor them differ. No matter which man is the catalyst of what happens to them, no matter who victimises them, they are the real players, the real achievers. They are resilient and they endure.

[goodqueenaly]

Say Baelish dies during CoK- how does Lysa react? Does she still keep the Vale out of it?

Yes, I don't think it's any question that Lysa would have continued to refuse to let her son's bannermen fight on any side in any conflict. The most pressing concern to Lysa was the safety of her only surviving child, and what is very clear from every scene with Lysa is that she would do anything, up to and including kill people, if she thought it would keep Robert safe. Lysa killed Jon Arryn not just because Littlefinger told her to, but because she (correctly) believed that various parties were trying to take her son away from her to foster (with the Lannisters or Stannis). Lysa was furious at Catelyn for "drag[ging] us into your quarrels with the Lannisters" and emphasized to her that “[w]e’re safe here" and "[e]ven if they could bring an army through the mountains and past the Bloody Gate, the Eyrie is impregnable". Lysa was terrified of the idea of anything happening to Robert, and I think very focused on staying put in (what she saw as) the safest castle in Westeros so that no one could get her.

The concern here is what Lysa would have done with homegrown opposition to her rule. From AGOT, it's clear that the nobles of the Vale were both largely eager to fight and aware that Lysa was keeping them from doing so:

“The clans have grown bolder since Lord Jon died,” Ser Donnel said. He was a stocky youth of twenty years, earnest and homely, with a wide nose and a shock of thick brown hair. “If it were up to me, I would take a hundred men into the mountains, root them out of their fastnesses, and teach them some sharp lessons, but your sister has forbidden it. She would not even permit her knights to fight in the Hand’s tourney. She wants all our swords kept close to home, to defend the Vale ... [sic] against what, no one is certain. Shadows, some say.”

"What is the mood in the Vale?" she asked.

"Angry," Brynden Tully admitted. "Lord Jon was much loved, and the insult was keenly felt when the king named Jaime Lannister to an office the Arryns had held for near three hundred years. Lysa has commanded us to call her son the True Warden of the East, but no one is fooled. Nor is your sister alone in wondering at the manner of the Hand's death. None dare say Jon was murdered, not openly, but suspicion casts a long shadow."

Nor was Lysa unaware of the aristocratic restlessness within the Vale's borders IOTL:

All the sternness melted off her aunt's round pink face, and for a moment Sansa thought Lysa Arryn was about to cry. "Sweet Petyr, I've missed you so, you don't know, you can't know. Yohn Royce has been stirring up all sorts of trouble, demanding that I call my banners and go to war. And the others all swarm around me, Hunter and Corbray and that dreadful Nestor Royce, all wanting to wed me and take my son to ward, but none of them truly love me."

The obvious answer in the minds of the lords of the Vale, as Lysa alluded to and as Brynden Tully told Catelyn in AGOT, was a new marriage for her:

He gave Catelyn a look, his mouth tight. “And there is the boy.”

“The boy? What of him?” She ducked her head as they passed under a low overhang of rock, and around a sharp turn.

Her uncle’s voice was troubled. “Lord Robert,” he sighed. “Six years old, sickly, and prone to weep if you take his dolls away. Jon Arryn’s trueborn heir, by all the gods, yet there are some who say he is too weak to sit his father’s seat, Nestor Royce has been high steward these past fourteen years, while Lord Jon served in King’s Landing, and many whisper that he should rule until the boy comes of age. Others believe that Lysa must marry again, and soon. Already the suitors gather like crows on a battlefield. The Eyrie is full of them.”

Unfortunately for Lysa, if Littlefinger died in ACOK there would have been no easy answer for her for a new marriage. While it's very possible the Baratheon-Lannister regime would have sent a new man to wed Lysa and bring the Vale into the Baratheon-Lannister fold - the small council of "Tyrion III", with the obvious exception of Tyrion, certainly didn't want to spend the crown's forces on a bloody expedition against the Vale if it didn't absolutely have to - there is certainly no one who would have held even remotely the same level of personal attraction to Lysa as Littlefinger did (not that there would have been any very obvious candidates anyway - a bit of the same problem I talked about in marrying Sansa to someone other than Tyrion or Lancel). Lysa's choice would be between this naturally pro-regime (because Tywin would never approve of anyone else) stranger, who would expect her to follow along with the regime's plans, or one of those vassals who want to control Robert and the Vale through marriage to her.

... and that's assuming she even got the choice, of course. It's possible that an aristocratic faction within the Vale would have done something between the Lords Declarant as we see IOTL in AFFC and the historical Ainslie Bond (whereby the Earl of Bothwell convinced some of his fellow spiritual and political peers to sign off on a document recommending him as a suitable husband for the recently widowed Mary, Queen of Scots; the language employed by the bond - noting that "our Sovereign the Queen's Majesty is now destitute of a husband, in the which solitary state the Commonwealth of this Realm may not permit her Highness to continue and endure" and praying to "move her Majesty so far to humble herself, as preferring one of her native born subjects unto all foreign princes" - seems like the sort of arguments a version of the Lords Declarant would have used). I'm not saying that Yohn or Nestor Royce, or one of the other Vale aristocrats who would have presumably been part of this faction, would have abducted and/or raped Lysa to force her into marriage, but.I do think that without Littlefinger's presence, an aristocratic faction within the Vale could have put even more pressure on her, backed up with those armies she never let them use, to marry a good (that is, Vale-born) aristocratic husband to rule through her.

[vivilove-jonsa]

Hey for the prompt thing 'Dancing in the rain'. Also I love your work🥰

Thanks so much, Anon!

Here's a little Canon Divergent AU for you where Sansa leaves the Vale and winds up in Braavos before heading North :)

****

The plan was to take her from the Vale by ship into White Harbor. The plan, like so many others Sansa had known, has not worked out that way.

An autumn storm at sea brings her to the shores of Braavos, more drowned rat than girl. She has nothing of value save a dozen knights to assert her claim and the price on her head which will do her little good.

The men who had accompanied them find shelter though, a room for herself and Myranda upon an active square beside the busy canal.

“It’s temporary, ladies. Just until we can secure a ship with a captain we can trust.”

A fortnight passes in Braavos while Sansa Stark waits for the right ship to carry her home and hopefully lead an army, in name at least, to reclaim Winterfell and the North.

It rains here, day and night, it seems. Fog, rain, fog, rain and sometimes freezing rain. Autumn in Braavos.

One of the knights has been talking to some girl down by the harbor, a very clever girl named Cat, who speaks the Common Tongue and says she will find them the right ship for a fee. The name Cat brings her mother to mind and Sansa has asked to meet the girl but the men refuse saying the queen might have spies even here.

From her window, she waits and watches. What else is there to do? She cannot readily walk out among others, can she? Her hair is auburn once more. She’s so tired of waiting by windows like some princess locked in a tower though. She’s done more than her share of that in Kings Landing and later the Vale.

“We wait but now we’re only waiting to go to war. We can stand a bit more waiting, can’t we, my lady?” Myranda asks, her lilting tone raising Sansa’s spirits.

Sansa agrees, glad to have a friend by her side with what is to come, and returns to her watching.

There is only a gentle drizzle the evening when she first sees him.

A man of the Nights Watch, she would swear by his black cloak and clothes but surely not. Why would the Nights Watch send a sworn brother here? And isn’t his cloak quite tattered? It is only a black cloak like so many other common ones and he is just a man, no one to Sansa.

Still, she watches the stranger in the square beside the canal from her window seat as he makes his way through the sea of people. He seems to be seeking something or someone. His cloak hides part of his face but he is not an old man. His movements are too graceful and quick.

His eyes find hers, she’s nearly sure of it. His head tilts to the side and Sansa realizes that with night starting to fall and the lantern behind her, she is illuminated for him. Her hair must be quite noticeable if nothing else.

What prompts her to raise her hand and wave? She cannot say but she does.

He raises his hand as well and, by the light of the moon, she can just make out a sweetly puzzled smile. His eyes are still mostly in shadows but she decides then he is handsome.

But then, distracted by her, he bumps into another man and must beg pardon with a gesture. It will not do. The other man seems to be eager for a fight. The Braavosi love their swordplay, water dancing, they call it. Like dancing in the rain. No dance should be so deadly.

Shouts and drawn swords, the clash of steel from the other side of the glass has her covering her eyes. When the steel is silent once more, she looks. The man in black still stands while his opponent is being carried away by his friends.

He wipes off his sword with the hem of his tattered cloak, turns back to the window where Sansa sits…and bows to her.

Silly girl that she is, it makes her giddy when he does it, almost as if he was a knight fighting the other man for her favor. She nods in reply, thankful he cannot make out her blush in the meager lighting.

Six more nights, Sansa watches for the man from her window and every night he comes.

What is he looking for? Who does he seek? She makes up stories in her mind about it, about him.

And every night, when he spies her at her post, that wistful smile plays at his lips as she raises her hand to wave at him and he returns the gesture. Before he leaves the square, he always bows to her, a knight bowing to his lady. She sighs whenever he does it. She’s sure she could fall in love with her mysterious knight in black given half a chance.

But on the seventh night, he is not alone. She watches as a girl approaches him with dark hair. They clasp hands, speak and then embrace. They are clearly very dear to one another. It must be her he’s been seeking.

They are so busy holding on to one another that he never raises his eyes to find Sansa in her window. She’s left feeling most bereft over it and names herself a fool for wishing her knight would notice her. Of course, he is not her knight. She has knights waiting to ferry her across the Narrow Sea and back to her homeland and he is only a stranger.

If he loves that girl and is happy, Sansa will wish them well. She decides to close the curtains though. It hurts too much to make up stories of happy endings that can never be.

Word comes at last. A ship has been found. Cat of the Canals has come through with a trusted captain and her knights are all eager to sail off to Westeros and to war. Tomorrow, Sansa will leave her long watch of waiting behind.

“There’s a festival tonight, my lady,” Randa says, coming up with their supper from the kitchen.

“A festival?”

“Yes, down in the square there. People dancing, singing and drinking in the rain, the madness of it.”

Dancing in the rain.

She smiles at the thought until some sort of madness grips her, too.

Before anyone can stop her, Sansa slips out the door of her room, past her knights gaming in the tavern below and out into the square.

She draws a deep breath and expels it along with all the waiting she has done.

Couples in wet clothes dance and sing in the rain around her. They’re all so merry. The smell of spirits and bodies surrounds her but she does not care. She tilts her head back and tastes the rain on her tongue. She laughs and spins and wishes for a partner to dance with.

She is still laughing when someone touches her shoulder. She wonders if it might be her knight. Perhaps he was here dancing with his long, lost girl. Perhaps the girl would not begrudge him one dance with a stranger.

It is him but without his girl.

“You came down from your window.” His voice is gruff but sweet. He speaks the Common Tongue and sounds distinctly…Northern.

“I came down from my window,” she replies, too happy in this instant to think things through.

His hands find her waist. It’s very bold of him but she does not mind his touch. Carefully, she places her hands upon his shoulders. Do they dance now? Is he waiting for her to take the first step?

“I told Arya it couldn’t be you. I told Arya…it’s not that I’m not happy to see you. Of course, I am. I cannot believe it. I am so very happy. But I wanted you to be someone else because from the moment I first saw you, I…you’re so beautiful and I saw you there so many nights and…”

He ducks his chin as if he is embarrassed while her mind is busily catching up. Arya? Why is the stranger speaking of her long, lost sister? And he knows her! Is she in danger?! Is he one of the queen’s spies after all?!

Panicked, she starts to pull away. “I…please, don’t-”

“No, Sansa. Don’t be afraid.”

And it is then he pulls back the hood of his cloak to reveal himself. Her knight in black is none other than her half-brother, Jon Snow.

Joy explodes within her chest as they embrace. Jon is alive and here. Arya is alive and here somewhere. She is going home and they will come with her.

And yet…there is something inside her that feels like disappointment when she breathes in Jon’s scent and relishes the way his arms hold her so perfectly as they sway together in the rain in their happiness.

Why is that? she wonders...as if she does not know.

[arthur-rex]

Continued from [ here ] shireentheunburnt:

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she dipped her head in gratitude, and followed Arthur to the royal tent. She was careful to avoid patches of mud and any puddles that had formed, mindful of her dress. The young girl knew that, often, ladies were careless with their clothing, to the inconvenience of their maids when it came to washing them. She tried, where more expensive and harder to maintain dresses were concerned at least, to keep them in good condition. Old slips that she was less concerned with, uncaring whether they were ruined or remained stained, she was more daring in from time to time…

The princess smiled softly to see the Queen had not sequestered herself away inside the temporary moving home, guessing where Guinevere was as her heart warmed at the thought. Truly, a queen to her people in a way many royals of Westeros could have learned from. The people of Camelot were lucky, and Shireen was glad of it.

What good is a king or queen if they didn’t care for their people? None at all. A kingdom or a child? Neither, and both. Unite the kingdom to protect the children. All of them.

Taking the offered chair with a smile that, as always, held a touch of sadness in its corner, the child thanked the king warmly. Waiting for Arthur to settle as well, the girl then began to speak. “I’m just relieved that the people of Camelot are able to defend themselves, and keep each other safe, Your Grace.”

Shireen hesitated, gaze falling to the charred stag resting in her lap. “I suppose… it is merely old fears rising up in me. I just wanted to warn you, and Queen Guinevere, to be… careful. I know the situations are different, I do, but the last time I came close to this threat… there was a woman preaching that only sacrifice, particularly of those with what she called ‘king’s blood’ would be necessary to end the White Walkers and the darkness their leader seeks to bring. I don’t believe that’s true- I think the unification of good people will be more than enough- but there still might be those that do. I hope… that no one like the red woman is here, with her evil stories; I don’t think there is, but…”

She sighed, aware that she was close to descending into rambling. “I felt it would be remiss of me not to say anything, even though I know my fears are likely unfounded. I don’t want you or the Queen to come to harm, Your Grace, through cruel superstition and half-baked prophecies.”

Settling in his chair, Arthur listens without interrupting the young Baratheon. Back in Camelot, when the Princess Shireen had first approached the King and Queen, many had been quick to dismiss the girl claiming royalty from lands further afield than that of the Five Kingdoms. Her warnings of strange, apocalyptic dead armies had not got down well in court. Dragons and dark magic of course were not foes unfamiliar to Camelot. No one who’d suffered through the wars waged within Albion wanted to hear now of ice-cold walking undead that could steal the souls of those they wanted for power. 

Derision accompanied Shireen’s petition to have the King muster his armies to fight off a common foe.

But Arthur and Guinevere had listened to her. Despite their elevated status, neither of the royals had lost touch with their roots to the concerns of the laymen or traveller, both. Gwen was a Queen of the people, having been born as one of them. Arthur meanwhile followed his heart, always.

And since that first meeting many of the things Shireen had warned them about had come true. First Annis was attacked, then Odin, then Alined… eventually the rulers of all the Five Kingdoms came to Arthur and Guinevere, seeking the protection of Camelot’s armies and her legendary knights, for they were blessed with the magic from the Court Sorcerer. 

Merlin’s early victory against the White Walkers with his dragons, when the Night King inevitably invaded the borders of Camelot, had been the start of the turn of the tide. 

The decision to elect Arthur as the High King had been taken almost unanimously after that. The power of knight and magic combined could no longer be denied. 

Arthur sighs. It displeased him on some level, that war against a greater foe had been the reason for ultimately uniting the Five Kingdoms. The golden-haired royal might once have thought that desire for peace and mutual prosperity alone was enough to bring warring kingdoms together, but alas. Some men needed the threat of violence to force their hand. Which Arthur found distasteful, despite being widely-renown as a warrior.

As Shireen finishes talking, Arthur shakes his head gently. 

“Sacrificing my life for the people is something I will do, princess, if it means the innocent may live safe and secure another day. But such a spilling of blood will be done on the battlefield, not in some arcane ritual.”

Reaching over to the little table beside them, he pours Shireen and himself a glass of water. Offering her a cup, his eyes soften at her mention of wanting him and the Queen to also remain safe. Such a caring young woman, it is no wonder Shireen got on so well with Guinevere. Should they all survive the upcoming battle, Arthur has a mind to have the princess formally recognised as a lady within the court. If she wished to remain in Camelot that is. 

Sipping from his own cup, Arthur’s gaze wanders for a moment, thinking of the past and the future.

“Prophecies… I have heard my share of them. If you wanted to debate the merits of such, perhaps you should be talking to Merlin? He holds a lot of faith in such things.”

A wry smile twists Arthur’s mouth. “He is no Lord of Light, but the Court Sorcerer does command fire as well as any of his dragons. I trust in him and in his abilities. I do not think he would push for any ritual sacrifice to the pagan gods for our victory tomorrow. Like you, like me - Merlin believes in the goodness of people. Your ‘red woman’ would not be welcome here, demanding sacrifice to selfish deities.”

Looking down at the charred stag that Shireen liked to carry with her, the High King pauses. Arthur knows a little of the princess’ personal history, although it is likely that she has shared more of her past with Gwen. In either case, he is aware that the young Baratheon’s childhood has been harder than most, and her parents had not been there to protect and care for her as they should. Arthur could relate to that.

“Is there more you wanted to share with me, Shireen?” 

He looks at her carefully, soft with his words. If the battle should go ill, this is likely the last chance they will have to speak with one another. 

[suresha]

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆  ||  @multiversemadnesss​  (  Jaime  and  Daenerys )

          Leaving  Meereen  had  been  the  first  of  many  mistakes  made  by  the  former  queen.  Or  perhaps  mistakes  were  made  long  before  Meereen.  She's  had  nearly  a  month  to  sit  and  contemplate  what  went  wrong  but  no  scenario  was  more  to  blame  than  another.  Fact  is,  Daenerys  had  been  way  over  her  head;  far  too  trusting  in  a  world  where  everyone  was  constantly  making  moves.  She  could  almost  hear  the  voice  of  Viserys  at  night  screaming  at  her  while  she  fretfully  slept.

          ❝Pathetic  sister.  And  you  dare  call  yourself  a  dragon?❞

          Dragon.  Some  dragon.  She  allowed  one  of  her  children  to  become  the  property  of  the  White  Walkers.  With  their  defeat,  so  went  Viserion  leaving  only  Rhaegal  and  Drogon  behind.  And  speaking  of  Drogon...  If  not  for  him,  her  fiercest  of  beasts,  she  might  not  be  alive  today.  Sometimes  she  wondered  if  she  were  better  off  dead.  At  the  very  least,  she  could  have  reunited  with  her  sons.

          But  what's  done  is  done.  The  Red  Woman  she  met  some  time  after  settling  in  Meereen  claimed  she  received  a  vision.  She  was  waiting  alongside  Barristan  and  the  few  Unsullied  left  behind  in  the  city  when  Drogon  dropped  her  body  of  within  the  old  fighting  pit.  They  brought  her  back  to  life  within  a  city  that  seemed  to  be  doing  well  enough  despite  high  tensions  outside  of  it.  Each  day,  Ser  Barristan  greeted  her,  urging  her  to  take  her  position  as  queen  of  this  city.  After  hearing  what  went  down  in  Westeros,   he  dared  not  encourage  her  to  go  back  ---  not  when  it  seemed  all  was  decided  now.  Bran  Stark  was  no  Daenerys  Targaryen,  and  in  the  old  knight's  mind,  he  could  never  be  what  she  could  have  been  if  not  for  betrayal.  Nevertheless,  the  old  knight  refused  to  serve  another  who  sat  upon  that  wretched  chair.  Dany  was  his  queen  from  now  until  death  whether  she  wanted  him  to  be  or  not.

          Days  in  Meereen  were  rather  uneventful.  Dany  spent  much  of  her  time  alone  in  her  quarters.  She  would  eat  enough  to  please  Barristan.  Otherwise,  she  preferred  to  be  alone.  Sometimes  she  would  spend  that  time  crying  like  the  little girl  she  never  got  to  be.  Other  times,  she  would  ponder  where  to  go  from  here.  With  only  a  forth  of  her  army,  do  she  dare  leave  and  settle  some  place  else,  or  make  Meereen  her  permanent  home?  After  all,  Dany  never  had  home  so  any  place  could  become  home  if  she  willed  it.

          ❝My  queen,  it's  urgent.❞

          Ser  Barristan  stood  just  outside  her  quarters,  too  polite  to  merely  barge  inside  in  Dany  wasn't  decent.  The  young  queen  was  curled  up  upon  the  bed  but  slowly  gathered  herself  to  walk  across  the  room.  Dressed  only  in  a  long,  plain  pale  pink  dress,  she  pulled  open  the  door.

          ❝Ser?  Is  something  wrong?❞

          Ser  Barristan  stood  aside  to  reveal  two  of  her  unsullied  chained  to  a  man  who  looked  vaguely  familiar.  Post  death,  many  faces  seemed  to  blur  together  within  Dany's  grief.  She  looked  to  Barristan,  clearly  confused  until  the  old  knight  filled  in  the  gap.

          ❝This  here  is  the  man  you  know  as  Kingslayer,  but  I  knew  him  once  upon  a  time  as  Ser  Jaime  Lannister.  Normally  I  wouldn't  insist  that  you  two  meet,  but  he  has  stories  about  the  aftermath  of  the  mess  in  King's  Landing.  He's  not  looking  for  trouble  and  oddly  enough,  I  trust  him.  Not  completely,  but  he's  unarmed.  I  don't  see  why  he  would wish  to  kill  you  again  when  everyone  still  believes  you  to  be  dead  anyway.❞

          Dany  stared  between  the  two  men  curiously.  In  truth,  she  didn't  care  at  all  about  Jaime,  King's  Landing  or  anything  anymore.  She  just  wished  to  be  left  alone  but...  the  old  man  had  never  done  anything  to  steer  her  astray  and  so  she  nodded,  stepping  aside  to  let  Jaime  enter.  Her  long,  white  hair  wasn't  as  tidy  as  it  used  to  be.  It  looked  unkempt  ---  as  if  she  had  just  woken  from  a  nap.  But  why  bother  looking  regal?  Why  bother  with  any  of  it  anymore  when  she  was  nothing  more  than  the  Mad  King's  daughter  now?  Nothing  mattered  anymore.

          ❝So  what  brings  you  all  the  way  down  here?  I  was  told  before  being  stabbed  in  the  chest  that  the  lot  of  you  had  fled  or  was  dead.  You  look  very  much  alive  to  me.❞

[jackoshadows]

Came across this quote today

“Everyone is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”

and it really embodies how characters in Westeros are put into certain boxes   with certain expectations by family and society, and then seen as less than when they don’t live up to those expectations.

Like Arya, who often questions her mother’s love because she is expected to be like Sansa in all ways and no matter how hard she tries, she cannot be like Sansa.  And then there is Sam, who just wants to read his books in peace and is instead forced to hunt and learn to fight. And because Sam is not good at fighting, even when taught by a dozen men at arms, he believes that he is an useless coward.

And then there is Jon Snow who believes that he is as qualified as Robb Stark to lead and that he is as deserving of Winterfell as Robb. Maybe, it’s this self-confidence in himself that helps Jon cut through all the superficial BS and see people for who they really are.

Like understanding that Arya is perfectly fine as is and having a sword made in the Winterfell forge for her because she wants to learn how to fight and that could be what she’s really good at.

Or just being happy that Bran is alive instead of being sad that he’s a cripple.

“He woke up,” he said. “The gods gave him back.”

“Crippled,” Mormont said. “I’m sorry, boy. Read the rest of the letter.”

He looked at the words, but they didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Bran was going to live. “My brother is going to live,” he told Mormont. - Jon, AGoT

Or how he treated Tyrion differently to the rest of Westeros once he came to know him.  Asking him to carry messages to Bran and Rickon and requesting that they be friends.

Or how he basically told his stewards and builders to eff off when they complained about Satin being a whore .

What he was in Oldtown is none of our concern. He’s quick to learn and very clever. The other recruits started out despising him, but he won them over and made friends of them all. He’s fearless in a fight and can even read and write after a fashion. He should be capable of fetching me my meals and saddling my horse, don’t you think?” - Jon, ADwD

Or how he sees the spearwives as warriors instead of women and entrusts the defense of an entire castle to them,  against opposition from the men of the NW who now call Long Barrow as Whore’s Barrow.

Or seeing the value in Samwell Tarly despite people like Chett wanting to teach a fish to climb a tree, no matter if it even kills the fish in the attempt.

 “Leave him where he is,” Chett said. “The Wall is no place for the weak. Let him train until he is ready, no matter how many years that takes. Ser Alliser shall make a man of him or kill him, as the gods will.” - Jon, AGoT

And Jon explaining how every person has their own value.

 “A maester forges his chain with study, he told me. The different metals are each a different kind of learning, gold for the study of money and accounts, silver for healing, iron for warcraft. And he said there were other meanings as well. The collar is supposed to remind a maester of the realm he serves, isn’t that so? Lords are gold and knights steel, but two links can’t make a chain. You also need silver and iron and lead, tin and copper and bronze and all the rest, and those are farmers and smiths and merchants and the like. A chain needs all sorts of metals, and a land needs all sorts of people. The Night’s Watch needs all sorts too. Why else have rangers and stewards and builders? Lord Randyll couldn’t make Sam a warrior, and Ser Alliser won’t either. You can’t hammer tin into iron, no matter how hard you beat it, but that doesn’t mean tin is useless. Why shouldn’t Sam be a steward?”

Maester Aemon closed his eyes, and for a brief moment Jon was afraid that he had gone to sleep. Finally he said, “Maester Luwin taught you well, Jon Snow. Your mind is as deft as your blade, it would seem.” - Jon, AGoT

This is a character who has forged an uneasy truce to an 8000 year old feud and that’s no easy task. Of course, sometimes raw hate and bigotry often trumps common sense as we see in real life and while characters like Marsh and Yarwyck understand that the ice zombies are the real threat and know that the Freefolk will provide for an army of the dead, they are still unwilling to let past hatreds be bygones. They are still grumbling about the Freefolk eating their food unwilling to listen to reason, despite Jon explaining the situation to them - namely that they need men to rebuild, garrison and defend the nineteen castles spread out over 300 miles and currently only 3 castles are being used! And no one else in Westeros is ready to help the NW or offer more men. Jon is even demanding men from Alys Karstark at her wedding party! That’s how desperate he is.

So considering how hard it was to get the NW to back his calls for unity, I can imagine that doing the same for the whole of Westeros is going to be a hundred fold harder.

And that’s why this book quote embodies Jon as a character who can reach across cultural divides because he understands and is open to different perspectives, doesn’t judge a book by it’s cover and acknowledges that he ultimately does not know everything. 

So many stars, he thought as he trudged up the slope through pines and firs and ash. Maester Luwin had taught him his stars as a boy in Winterfell; he had learned the names of the twelve houses of heaven and the rulers of each; he could find the seven wanderers sacred to the Faith; he was old friends with the Ice Dragon, the Shadowcat, the Moonmaid, and the Sword of the Morning. All those he shared with Ygritte, but not some of the others. We look up at the same stars, and see such different things. The King’s Crown was the Cradle, to hear her tell it; the Stallion was the Horned Lord; the red wanderer that septons preached was sacred to their Smith up here was called the Thief. - Jon, ASoS

Which is why when Dany lands in Westeros with the ‘Mad Queen’ propaganda following her, Jon is going to base his opinions of her on his interaction with her, rather than on what Westeros or Essos judges her to be. 

[crispmarshmallow]

and it’s so gut wrenching

Love me with your worst intentions. 

It had been a wedding gift from her brothers - a beautiful dagger commissioned by Doran and crafted by the blacksmith in Sunspear and bejeweled with the most precious stones Oberyn had acquired from across the Narrow Sea. They gifted it to her in a small chest as decorated as the weapon it carried before she left for Kingslanding. 

Elia had picked up the dagger from the velvet inside of the chest and relished in the feeling of it between her fingers when they handed it over to her. She had loved it. Daggers were one of the few weapons she had learned to use. One of the few that her delicate health allowed her to possess. I do not think I will need it. She had said to them. I will be a Princess of the Realm with many a sword and a Prince sworn to my protection. Doran and Oberyn insisted nonetheless - they would sleep easier if they knew she was not unarmed.

And she had not had any need for it. She took it with her wherever she travelled - from Dragonstone to Kingslanding and back - but she rarely took it out of its chest. Rare occasions being the ones when she had it lightly polished so it would not lose its lustre.

Elia had never felt the need for it. Until she did - at Harrenhal. Rhaegar had crowned another who was not her. And she knew - just knew - what precarious protection that her husband promised her within the Sept of Baelor was no more. 

Rhaegar rode past her after his victory against Selmy and though she felt insulted and neglected she kept her face neutral. She had perfected her mask as a princess far before she could even remember. She watched Rhaegar hand over the woven crown of winter roses to Lyanna Stark. She watched the uproar he caused. And she knew. Rhaegar had always been so cautious - he would risk so much for so little.

It did not matter that she carried his child within her - a child that could possibly be his heir. It was the last child that she would likely ever bear according to Pycelle. She had given Rhaegar Rhaenys and soon she will give another. The dragon must have three heads. Isn’t that what he always whispered to her? And she could not bear a third. 

Elia had noticed how his sweet little promises of love had grown far less frequent after the diagnosis by Pycelle. And she suddenly knew that was the reason - knew that was why he spurned her before all of Westeros for a woman already betrothed. She could no longer be an instrument in his precious prophecy. 

And so Elia took the dagger out its chest that night and slept with it under her pillow. She continued to do so after they left Harrenhal. 

Painted us a happy ending

She could not sweep Rhaegar’s actions under the rug. Elia had her pride and dignity to salvage. He had insulted her. House Martell. Dorne. And even his own children by neglecting her before the entire realm.

However, Elia and the little babe within her and Rhaenys held little power outside Dorne without Rhaegar. And so she could do no more than be as cold as the winters the House of his little Lyanna liked to warn of. Oh, a part of her wanted to do so much more. She wanted to coat her precious dagger in the poisons that Oberyn liked to experiment with so much and prick a small wound into her husband. She knew she could not do so though - she depended on him far too much. Moreover, it would tear her heart into two. 

It took an effort on her part, even with those dark thoughts, to be so cold to him. Somewhere along all the sweet promises he used to whisper when she had some use to him had made her grow to love him. Her coldness towards him and Aerys’ continued descent into madness was taking a toll on her. 

Pycelle had begun to worry for the child. And that made Rhaegar come seeking for forgiveness. Until then, he took her treatment with silence - ignoring anything out of the ordinary. Until then.

Rhaegar had apologized and kissed her tears of fury away. He whispered to her of how Lyanna Stark had been the Knight of the Laughing Tree and that his act had only been a reward for her valor and bravery and nothing more. He whisked Elia and Rhaenys away from Kingslanding to Dragonstone and catered to her every need.

And Elia had begun to believe his acts of repentance. He had looked so proud of her when she gave birth to little Aegon and how a comet shone over them as she did. He sang little Aegon a beautiful song. He said that little beautiful Aegon was the Prince that was Promised. 

Elia had begun to believe him and his promises again. She had. Just not enough to put the dagger back into its chest. 

Everytime you burned me down,

She loved him. She believed him. And she cursed herself for it. She wished she buried her dagger into his chest while she had a chance.

Rhaegar had insisted that they return to Kingslanding a month or two after sweet Aegon joined them. They had presented Aegon to Aerys and surprisingly garnered thin approval from the Mad King. 

After that Rhaegar had left Kingslanding with two  of the Kingsguard in tow. I must do this for the realm. He had refused to tell her what. Elia had supposed that it must have something to do with his plans in overthrowing Aerys.

She did not think him foolish enough to go and run off with Lyanna Stark. She didn't think he would risk war for a woman. And yet he did. 

He ran off with her. Brandon Stark demanded justice and he and his father were slaughtered before her eyes and the eyes of the court in a way so brutal that Elia began to have nightmares of her and her children in their place. Burning as Rhaegar watched passively - caring none for his family. 

As he did at the moment. War raged in the realm and no one knew where he was. And so nothing stopped Aerys from mistreating her and her children without Rhaegar in the city. Picking her as his target when he lashed out. 

He hurled insult after insult against her - blaming her for Rhaegar’s indiscretions. He had her humiliated before the court. Elia did her best to ensure that Rhaenys and Aegon were never in the vicinity when Aerys gathered in the Throne Room. She made sure Ashara had whisked them away to some quiet corner in the Keep while Aerys had his attention on her. 

She endured it - for her children. She would do anything for them. As she would have for Rhaegar. As Rhaegar would not have done for them. As he did not do for them. 

And Elia began to sleep at night with the dagger in one hand as Rhaenys curled around her body and she cradled Aegon in the other hand. 

Don’t know how, for a moment it felt like heaven

He came back to head the armies that he neglected for so long. Baratheon bagged victory after victory and Rhaegar could no more ignore his responsibility as the Prince and heir to House Targaryen.

She had not bothered to welcome him. She feigned illness to avoid it -  an excuse that was all too plausible. She did not want to see him after he returned from doing what he did with Lyanna Stark. 

However, Rhaegar saw fit to visit her and his children before he left for the battlefield. He came to Aegon’s nursery where Elia and Rhaenys spent most of their time these days. He came fitted in his armor decked with rubies and jewels and looked every bit the Prince that he was. The sight of him made her chest tighten with sadness and loathing and happiness at seeing him after so long. 

She watched him scoop Rhaenys into his arms and kiss her on the nose and whisper something that made his daughter burst into giggles. It would be so easy for Elia to think that he cared about his children - more than he cared about his stupid prophesy - to think that they could be a happy little family. Eventually, he put Rhaenys down and moved to pick up the sleeping Aegon to press a kiss to his forehead.

He approached Elia next. She curtsied to him and let him embrace her. She basked in its warmth for a moment. He whispered his little promises in her ears and Elia wondered if they always sounded so ridiculous. Lyanna Stark was the ice to his fire. Lyanna Stark was with child in Dorne. Rhaegar took his mistress to the homeland of his wife. 

Elia wanted to scream in fury and unleash the wrath of the Sun onto him - not even a dragon could prevail before the heat of the Sun. She thought of her dagger once more and of the satisfaction she would feel to see it in his heart. But it still remained that Elia was powerless without her husband. So she let him kiss her softly and let him mistake her tears of anger as tears of sadness at seeing him leave for battle. 

“Who do you think he fights for?” She had asked Ser Jaime  - the last of the Kingsguard in Kingslanding - a hostage to ensure the loyalty of his family as she was, as they watched Rhaegar and his host leave the city. . “Do you think he fights to keep Aerys on the Throne? Or to place himself upon it? Or so he can keep little Lyanna Stark? Do you think he fights for Aegon and Rhaenys?”

Jaime had hesitated. “He fights for you all, Princess.” It was an empty answer. Elia knew that the young knight almost worshipped the ground that Rhaegar walked upon. 

All? Elia had scoffed. “And yet he does not fight for me.” He never has and never will.

Rhaegar did not see fit to update her of his wellbeing or the state of war and the little news she received was always from Varys or Jaime. 

And a day came where Varys told her that her husband fell on the battlefield at the hands of Robert Baratheon - the name of Lyanna Stark on his tongue. Elia’s heart mourned while the darker parts of her soul rejoiced to see the man die at the hands of little Lyanna’s betrothed.

However, with his death it became more evident than ever how her position had depended on Rhaegar. Aerys blamed the Dornish for Rhaegar’s fate. He kept Elia and her children as he sent Viserys and Rhaella to Dragonstone - but not before stripping Aegon of his status as heir and handing it over to Viserys. 

Elia lost almost everything after her husband died - the husband that had thought not of his children or wife in his last moments. 

All Elia thought was of her children and she walked the corridors of the Red Keep with her dagger tucked into the sleeves of her dress with the two of them always by her side.

And it’s so gut wrenching, 

Aerys opened the gates for Tywin Lannister and Elia knew there was no hope. All she could think of as she rushed through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast with Rhaenys holding on to her hand and a babe in her other was that she was thankful that Aegon was away and safe with Varys. 

Elia did not trust Varys - he had simply been her only choice to keep her babe alive. If Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister did not kill Aegon, Elia knew Aerys would. So she had let Varys take him to safety and she hated him with every part of her being for not taking Rhaenys too.

She hid them in the chambers of her dead husband as she could hear the chaos coming closer and closer. She tried to keep her tears of fury and fear and helplessness at bay as she told Rhaenys to hide beneath her father’s bed as if the piece of furniture would protect her as her father should have. She let her take Balerion with her - her little black kitten. Elia could only wish that the kitten was as powerful as its namesake. Alas, she could only wish as the noise got louder.

She slipped her dagger out of her sleeves and clutched it so tightly between her fingers that it hurt. She had none to protect her and Rhaenys and the babe that she held. Jaime was with Aerys and Barristan was captured by the Rebels and the rest were with her husband’s precious Lyanna Stark. 

She murmured to the children in the room as she could hear heavy footsteps itching closer to them  - trying to reassure them and herself. She would not let them be harmed without a fight. She would protect them with the dagger that she thought she would never have to use and all that she had.

She would protect them as the man she loved and their father should have. She would protect Rhaenys and Aegon and even the child that she held and Elia Martell knew that it would still not be enough. 

  Falling in the wrong direction.

Contains lyrics from Wrong Direction by Hailee Steinfeld © Warner Chappell Music, Inc, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

[a-secret-bolton-vampire]

The Coming War for the North, Part 2: The Lost Wolves

In part 1, I talked about the coming battle of ice with Stannis fighting against the Boltons to take Winterfell. I discussed the situation there, the pink letter, and briefly speculated what the battle of ice will entail and who I thought would emerge victorious. If you read that, you know I argued Stannis would lose and the true battle for the North would be fought by Jon against Ramsay. In part 2, I'll dive into setting up the different factions left in the North (and beyond!) that I think will be integral to the northern storyline in TWOW.

A Trip to Skagos

Last we saw of Davos, he was not executed by Wyman Manderly, and Lord Manderly has sent him to retrieve Rickon from Skagos. Davos in TWOW is definitely going to be fun to read, as Skagos sounds like a very sinister place (or is it all that sinister?) and seeing Rickon again should be interesting. At the beginning of ADWD Davos was sent to parley with the Manderlys by Stannis, but the Manderlys imprisoned him, and per what we hear from in AFFC, executed him.

Of course, they didn't, and instead put him into the Wolf's Den, an ancient castle that is now used as a prison. Then Davos is freed and meets with Wyman in private, with Robett Glover in attendance, who say they are not with the Boltons, and were merely playing up the ruse so that Wyman's son Wylis would be returned safely without a hint of disloyalty towards the Lannisters. Instead, they are plotting revenge against the Red Wedding, and inform Davos that they found Wex Pyke, Theon's mute squire, who eventually revealed that Rickon has gone to Skagos. Wyman will support Stannis if Davos successfully brings Rickon back.

We don't know a lot about Skagos, and the little we do know paints it as a very sinister, savage place. They are rumoured to practice human sacrifice to the weirwoods and cannibalism in winter, and luring passing ships with false lights, more like tribes of raiders not too dissimilar to wildlings. They also rose in rebellion against the Starks during the reign of King Daeron II, which lasted years and claimed the lives of thousands, Lord Barthogan Stark among them, before it was finally put down. Also they ride unicorns, one horned shaggy goats.

I'm not sure what Skagos will ultimately be like, but I think it's probably going to be a weird mix of wildlings and northmen. There is also the question of their relationship with both. The northmen hate them and view them as savages, and they are built up as sinister people, but perhaps they only play it up in order to be left alone. Their historical connection to the North isn't very positive, so they might enjoy being isolated from the rest of the North, so long as they aren't disturbed.

That said, it is interesting that Osha chose Skagos to hide with Rickon. Anywhere in the North is dangerous for a loose wildling and a young Stark to be in... except Skagos, apparently. Do the Skagosi have good relations with the free folk? They seem to live more like the free folk and the island is further north than the rest of the North (bordering on the lands of the Night's Watch & even stretching beyond the Wall). Plus, Osha went there with Rickon to keep him safe, so the idea that the free folk and Skagosi have connections isn't too unikely.

The real question I am wondering is; how is Rickon doing? Last we saw him, he was only 4 years old, wild and untamed. I somewhat subscribe to the theory that the names of the direwolves hint at their future, and while there is a theory that Rickon is a shaggydog story (a long winded, complicated anecdote that goes nowhere), I think Shaggydog more or less foreshadows Rickon's wild nature. There is nobody training his warging abilities, and he was already wild to begin with, and now he's on a remote island in the middle of nowhere, so I only think he's going to grow more and more wild.

And, how are the Skagosi treating Rickon? Do they like him? They don't have good historical connections with the Starks, so they may not like Rickon when they first met him. Maybe they revere him since he is a warg? Or perhaps nobody truly knows who he is, but some kid with a giant wolf who knows lives on the island, and people give him offerings? Since we have little to nothing to go off, we have no idea what exactly Rickon has been up to since his exit from the pages in ACOK.

Regardless, Davos might find himself in a difficult position to convince Rickon to return. He's a complete stranger and nobody is going to trust his agenda, least of all Osha who was tasked with keeping Rickon safe. Given George has "important plans" for Rickon, I doubt Davos will fail to bring Rickon back, but it won't be easy, and probably will take some time.

From there, I see two possible places for Davos to go. While he would be tasked with returning Rickon to White Harbor, there is a possibility that the storms will force him to land in Eastwatch. Rickon could have a reunion with Jon Snow if that is the case, but I tend to favour Rickon being returned to White Harbor and used to rally Manderly and their allies against Ramsay. Wyman tells Davos all the value of having his House as an ally against the Boltons.

"I have been building warships for more than a year. Some you saw, but there are as many more hidden up the White Knife. Even with the losses I have suffered, I still command more heavy horse than any other lord north of the Neck. My walls are strong, and my vaults are full of silver. Oldcastle and Widow's Watch will take their lead from me. My bannermen include a dozen petty lords and a hundred landed knights. I can deliver King Stannis the allegiance of all the lands east of the White Knife, from Widow's Watch and Ramsgate to the Sheepshead Hills and the headwaters of the Broken Branch."

Stannis Baratheon

One thing to note is what Stannis will be doing. Say he, as I think happened, was defeated by the Boltons and faked his death. What is his next move? It's entirely possible that Stannis just retreats to the Nightfort, a location that he intends on sitting at one day, and in his desperation, burns Shireen to wake dragons out of stone (apparently people hate this take but it's a possibility in my mind). However, this isn't to say he is completely out of the game yet.

The Manderlys are open to allying with Stannis (should Davos be successful in retrieving Rickon), and they are part of the army sent in the battle of ice to do battle with Stannis. Could they possibly help fake Stannis's death in battle and have him retreat to a secret location? There is potential foreshadowing for this.

"White Harbor would give me a ready source of supply and a secure base to which I could retreat at need."

Could they have him retreat to the Wolf's Den, an ancient castle turned prison? There is a secret passageway connecting the Wolf's Den to the New Castle that Davos was shown.

While it might just be simpler for Stannis to retreat and die, this story is anything but simple, and I feel George is still having him around for a reason. He did send Justin Massey to Braavos to hire sellswords and sent them to him through Eastwatch (which is how I believe Arya will return to Westeros), so those might come in handy in the future. So while I believe the Starks will be the centre of defeating the Boltons and retaking Winterfell, Stannis could still have a role in this. One idea is that he actually takes the Dreadfort.

While the original idea posed by Arnolf was to merely siege it, and was supposed to undermine Stannis, interrogating Theon would be of some great use, as could the fleet of warships Lord Manderly has been building. Theon once escaped the Dreadfort through a postern gate that is either lightly or not guarded at all, with the help of Kyra, only for this to all be a game devised by Ramsay to hunt them back down. His knowledge of the Dreadfort could prove useful for Stannis to take it, while the Manderly fleet rows up the Weeping Water and lays siege to it.

A Blaze of Boltons

Now it's time to look at the Boltons. Say Roose is successful in holding Winterfell and defeating Stannis, and he gets rid of the Freys and Manderlys. What then? The northern houses are still only tentatively loyal to him, and he knows it. But the danger that poses to him is temporarily dealt with. The true danger was the fact that there was an option to join a new side against the Boltons, but once Stannis defeated, they are back to being all by themselves, knowing the Iron Throne is backing the Boltons and not risking their ire.

However, there is a distinct possibility that the Boltons will still lose support eventually, and by none other than their own hands, specifically Ramsay's. As a psychopath, Ramsay has an enormous ego, and is very concerned about his birthright, hoping he will one day be Warden of the North and Lord of the Dreadfort.

"My lord has a new wife to give him sons." "And won't my bastard love that? Lady Walda is a Frey, and she has a fertile feel to her. I have become oddly fond of my fat little wife. The two before her never made a sound in bed, but this one squeals and shudders. I find that quite endearing. If she pops out sons the way she pops in tarts, the Dreadfort will soon be overrun with Boltons. Ramsay will kill them all, of course. That's for the best. I will not live long enough to see new sons to manhood, and boy lords are the bane of any House. Walda will grieve to see them die, though."

Roose is aware of just how unhinged Ramsay is. He knows Ramsay will be upset if Walda gives birth to a boy, and knows Theon is reporting back to Ramsay. But Roose doesn't really seem to care all that much. Perhaps he would be amused if this did happen. Or perhaps he's just trying to comfort Ramsay to prevent this happening. Regardless, he also knows that Ramsay was responsible for his half-brother Domeric's death.

"Yes, m'lord. Domeric. I … I have heard his name …" "Ramsay killed him. A sickness of the bowels, Maester Uthor says, but I say poison. In the Vale, Domeric had enjoyed the company of Redfort's sons. He wanted a brother by his side, so he rode up the Weeping Water to seek my bastard out. I forbade it, but Domeric was a man grown and thought that he knew better than his father. Now his bones lie beneath the Dreadfort with the bones of his brothers, who died still in the cradle, and I am left with Ramsay. Tell me, my lord … if the kinslayer is accursed, what is a father to do when one son slays another?"

It seems clear that Ramsay's murder of his half-brother Domeric is foreshadowing, not just for the eventual death of Walda's child, but for Roose as well. Ramsay is very close to one day snapping and doing something so horrible that he cannot go back from. And to make it more clear, there is a line at the end of ADWD that I completely overlooked that shows Walda is actually pregnant.

Roose Bolton entered, pale-eyed and yawning, accompanied by his plump and pregnant wife, Fat Walda.

Later Ramsay and Roose are seen arguing, and Walda seems very frightened, but Theon doesn't hear what they say. It's possible they were arguing about Ramsay's inheritance given that Walda is now pregnant (although I think they were more likely arguing about what to do with Stannis). Regardless, I think that Walda giving birth to a boy would drive Ramsay over the edge. Despite him being impulsive and angry, he's still quite capable of covering up what he does. So I think, just as he did with Domeric, he will poison Roose, Walda, and his newborn half-brother, leaving him the only Bolton left and asserting his dominance over the North.

Of course, this is going to have serious consequences for Ramsay, something I will get into in part 3, where I will talk at length about the coming Bastardbowl.

[the-girl-in-the-high-castle]

The Real  Season 8:

- Jon is the king of The Seven Kingdoms and Jaime is his Hand:

- Dany fucked off to Essos with Drogon and the remaining army cause she realized Westeros will never be hers and she will never belong there. After she accidentally set off the wildfire her father had planted all over KL and blew half of the city up: 

- Cersei sent Bronn to kill Sansa and Brienne, because Cersei may be a lot of different things, but she’s not stupid and she finally recognizes Sansa as the actual biggest threat, not Dany, and she knows he won’t outward kill Jaime and Tyrion. Sandor dies defending Sansa (because his life is no longer based on revenge), him and Bronn killing eachother. Sandor’s character coming full circle, Bronn is not useless and his arc as a sellsword not diminished. Before The Hound dies, Sansa tells him he’s the closest to a real knight she has ever known in her life. (giving book fans at least a little bit of pleasure and SanSan at least a little bit of honor they deserve). 

- Arya promises Sandor she’ll take The Mountain off her list for him before he dies. 

- Brienne feels guilty for not defending Sansa when she needed her, so to make her feel better Sansa sends her after Arya, to help her, cause she knows Arya fucked off to do something suicidal. 

- Arya sets off to kill both The Mountain and Cersei. She gets into the Red Keep, wounds Cersei before The Mountain stops her and they get into a fight. 

- Jaime doesn’t just fuck off from Winterfell in the middle of the night listing bad things he’s done to Brienne, the things she already knows about. Sansa is the one who sets him off and triggers his actions by telling him Cersei sent Bronn to kill her and that she wasn’t his only target, that his sister sure knows how to act petty, and tells him about Brienne, knowing that would for sure trigger him. Which actually shows Sansa being a smart person and playing the game, instead of us just being told she is smart. This reminds us that back in season 7, Sansa sent Brienne to the Dragonpit meeting on purpose, so that she can make Jaime see reason. And it was a success. Leaving Cersei without the last person she can really trust. Showing us Sansa really is the best player now. 

- Before Dany, Jon and the rest of the army leave Winterfell, Jaime tries to warn Dany about the wildfire that still lingers beneath the city, but of course, she doesn’t listen to him because he’s the Kingslayer. Jon is at this point a little lost because of his identity, so he just follows Dany.

- Before they leave, Jaime begs Tyrion to try and reason with Dany and convince her to take the city peacefully. 

- Jaime is restless in Winterfell because of this and that is the first reason that makes him leave, followed by being finally completely triggered by Sansa telling him Cersei put a target on Brienne’s  back. 

- Brienne doesn’t try to stop him because she knows she can’t, and she knows, better than anyone, about Aerys and wildfire and she knows Jaime’s heart and honor will never allow him to stay while millions of people are about to burn alive. 

- Cersei has her own wildfire but she is clueless about the one left since Aerys. 

- Jaime is still captured, but only after he tries to get to Jon, to make him stop the attack, relying on his Stark morals and honor. He tells Jon about wildfire, both Aerys’ and the one Cersei used to blow up the Sept. He tries to convince Jon to let him into the Red Keep to try to reason with Cersei as well as use his authority on the Lannister army, cause he’s still their commander. Jon hesitates at first, but finally lets Jaime go. 

- Jaime gets into the Keep, Arya is already there, fighting The Mountain, after wounding Cersei, who now tries to get to Qyburn and order him to blow the city  up in flames cause she finally knows she’s going down.

- Arya is struggling with The Mountain somewhere in the Keep, but Brienne comes to her aid and helps her finish him by cutting his head off. 

- Dany can’t wait any longer and she goes for the attack riding Drogon at the same time ordering Jon and Grey Worm to get into the city with the Unsullied and the Northmen. Jon hesitates, trying to reason with her, but she won’t listen. 

- Before getting into the Keep, Jaime uses his badass infamous Kingslayer mod and threatens the Lannister soldiers, reminding them they answer to House Lannister before they answer to the Throne, therefore, they answer to him. He makes them stand down. Still, the Golden Company is a threat. 

- Jaime gets to Cersei at the exact moment she is trying to get Qyburn to set the wildfire off. He sees the aftermath of her confrontation with Arya and realizes there is no baby, cause she lost it back in season 7 finale. He realizes it’s the Mad King all over again, tries to reason with her, but she knows she’s finally lost and if she’s going down, so is everyone else. Tells him they will die together, just how they are meant to go. She tells Qyburn to “burn them all”. Jaime gets to Cersei, puts his hands at her throat, realizing she’s already dying, stops her and mercy chokes her to death at the same time. she realizes he’s actually the valonqar before she dies.  

- Jaime goes after Qyburn to stop him from igniting the wildfire and on his way to give his soldiers a signal to ring the bells as a sign of the Queen’s death. Kills Qyburn by throwing a dagger at his back, but just as that happens, he sees green flames blow up into the air in the distance and Dany flying above them on Drogon. He sees it’s all been for nothing and his worst fear came true while he again tried to stop it and save the city. 

- Dany realizes what she has done, igniting the wildfire she was warned about, even though dealing with the Golden Company, the wildfire burned almost half the city, killing thousands of civilians, parts of her own army, including Grey Worm, as well as parts of the Lannister soldiers who surrendered on Jaime’s orders.

- The bells ring, the sign of the Queen’s death. 

- Jaime goes back to the great hall, where he killed Cersei, sits down on the steps next to her body, completely lost. In that moment Jon enters the hall, Jaime looks up and bitterly laughs at the irony of it all. Only this time, Jon does not judge him nor accuse him of anything. 

- Yara joins the forces ambushing the remainings of Euron’s fleet after Dany burns it. She faces Euron who tries to escape and kills him. 

- On Dany’s orders, Jaime is taken prisoner. 

- Jon is pissed off at Dany, she accuses him of treason for letting Jaime go, she tries to defend herself, but she realizes she has no excuse. She knows what she’s done. The Northmen rebel, the rest of KL left alive rise against her, as well as the Lannister soldiers, demanding justice for their commander and lord. Tyrion resigns as Hand, throws the pin away and demands to be put in chains together with his brother rather than continue serving her. 

- Varys, communicating with Sansa after Tyrion’s imprisonment, gives her the news about the destruction of the city. Sansa then gathers the remaining Northern houses and Stark allies as well as the remains of the rest of the great houses of Westeros by informing them the truth about Jon. 

- Gendry, as a legitimized Baratheon swears allegiance to Jon and claims Storm’s End. 

- Sansa already having power over Vale, joins their forces with the North. 

- Edmure Tully, rid of the Freys, joins Sansa. 

- Dorne, betrayed by The Sand Snakes, who were Dany’s allies, rise against her, while Highgarden is still held by the Lannister army.

- Dany finally realizes she’s alone. All of her friends are gone, Jon’s had enough, Sansa had gathered the entire North against her. Suspicious that Varys betrayed her by conspiring with Sansa and sharing the news about Jon, she executes him and that way draws the last straw of patience from Jon who is now afraid for his family and thinks Arya died in wildfire. 

- Dany finally knows she’s fucked, takes Drogon, fucks off to Essos with her remaining army, which is at this point quite small. 

- Jon realizes the weight of everything that’s happened, and that now everyone knows the truth about him. He’s pissed off at Sansa but knows that what she did actually stopped further destruction. Finds out Arya is a bit shaken but alive and what she did.  

- Sansa comes south to KL with lords of the great houses at her back. Having the bigger part of Westeros at his side, Jon is demanded of to take his rightful position on the throne. He knows he can’t fight it, and knows that if he refuses, there will be further war and conflict and a lot more people will die. That if he doesn’t bend he will break. A little talk with Tyrion and Sansa and he finally bends. He is declared the king of the Seven Kingdoms, but he refuses to be called Aegon and demands to still be Jon Snow. 

- The Ironborn led by Yara rebel against this, loyal to Dany, but soon enough bend because they realize they’re alone. 

- Jaime, even though no longer a prisoner, doesn’t want anything to do with the outside world and looks finally completely broken. Jon and Tyrion talk to him but he is back in his Kingslayer mod, savage and sarcastic because ‘’he went away inside’’. He doesn’t want to see nor hear from anyone, he just wants to die. But, Brienne will have none of his shit and comes to talk to him. He tries to push her away, like he always does, tries to provoke her to anger, tells her again about the horrible things he’s done, how he should’ve died with his sister, how she should hate him cause he left her. She of course doesn’t let him, and instead tells him she knows why he did what he did, that she would never blame him for leaving her if it meant saving millions of people, because that’s why she loves him for, how he once again saved the city from complete destruction and that he’s a good man. That’s where he finally breaks down and cries in her arms. 

- Jon summons Jaime to talk and tells him some of the great houses demand his punishment. Jaime is ready to die but death is not what he gets. Jon tells him that from now on he names him his Hand. Jaime laughs and calls Jon out for being bad at jokes, but Jon shakes him up and tells him he’s not joking. When Jaime tells him he’s talking to the wrong Lannister and that his brother is the politician, Jon tells him he doesn’t want a politician, that Westeros has had enough of bad politicians. He wants a man who will be ready to kill him if he ever decided to burn someone alive. A man who did that not once, but twice, and put the people first, a man who honored his oath to the Mother and defended the innocent even on the cost of losing everything. This takes Jaime by surprise and he knows there is no way out. Jon declares that neither of them want this, and that that will be punishment for both of them for making love the death of duty. Jon then tells Jaime his thoughts when he first saw him riding through the gates of Winterfell and how he thought “that’s what a king should look like”. Jaime jokes with ‘’I can imagine your disappointment when you actually saw the king”. and then resigned says “The Bastard King and A Hand Without a Hand. How many songs you think they’ll write about us?” Jon smiles and replies with “Not many, I hope”. 

- Sansa remains The Lady of Winterfell but sticks for a while to help Jon. 

- Jon tells Jaime Casterly Rock will be returned to him, Jaime thinks Tyrion should have it, but Jon informs him Tyrion doesn’t want it and doesn’t think he deserves it after willingly helping Dany take it, and that Jaime should take his rightful position as the Lord of the Rock. This will give Jon loyalty of the Westerlands as long as Jaime lives. Jon tells him he is free to marry and continue his family line, which makes Jaime remember he doesn’t feel worthy of the only woman he would actually want to marry.

- Tyrion is finally defeated and wishes to no more be a part of the game, because he feels responsible for what Dany did. He will remain in KL for some time, to help  them rebuilt it, then probably travel somewhere. He only asks Jaime to give him a place in the Rock when he finally retires. 

- Jaime, finally following his heart, goes to Sansa and asks her to release Brienne from her vows. Sansa lets him know she will only do it if Brienne asks that of her. Jaime then asks Brienne to marry him, but not before telling her that Jon plans on asking her to be the commander of his King’s guard, because he thinks she has a right to know before he asks anything of her. She tells him she wasn’t going to accept the offer anyway, cause she’s learned enough that that position is not what it seems, and that she had her dream come true with becoming a knight. Also, she’s still her father’s heir and that’s a duty she ignored for too long. He goes with his very own doofus way, cause he can’t be serious for a second, with something like “I’m afraid without you my line is ended.” But after she rolls her eyes at him he goes serious with all his bragging about him not being worthy of her, but that she’s the only one he would give himself to, and how he knows his lifetime will not be enough to come to deserve her but that he would do his best to at least try. She tells him she will accept it with one condition, which is for him to see himself the way she sees him, to stop saying he doesn’t deserve her, stop feeling sorry for himself and to keep being a good man he always was but never saw it. He promises that he will try. With that, another alliance of West and East is established. 

- Sansa and Tyrion consider reviving their marriage, but decide that that wouldn’t be a wise idea in the end. They remain friends who respect one another.

- Sansa goes back to Winterfell and does her duty as Lady of Winterfell. Let’s go with headcanon that Quentyn and Arianne Martell exist in the show. So, Arienne claims Dorne as its heir and Sansa marries Quentyn, joining North and South and allowing house Stark to live on. 

- Arya realizes she can’t go back home, cause she’s no longer what she used to be and being a faceless (wo)man took its toll on her. She takes a boat to an unknown direction, possibly back to Braavos.

- Gendry marries a woman form the Westerlands, making allies, who becomes his Lady Baratheon, even though she wasn’t who he wanted. He swears his lifelong loyalty to Jon and the throne and swears an oath of never using his Baratheon right to usurp it. 

- Davos is willing to remain by Jon’s side, but Jon releases him from his duty and lets him go his own way, to return to his family. 

- Jon and Jaime struggle in finding their small counsel, not knowing many people who will be loyal. Jon asks Edmure to be his Master of Coin, he accepts. Jaime suggests his only and loyal friend Addam Marbrand as Master of War. Jon asks Sam, after taking his position as Lord of Hornhill, to be his Master of Whisperers. He seeks one of his brothers of the Night’s Watch and makes them Lord Commander of the King’s Guard. As a sign of good faith and friendship with Dorne through Sansa, he names a Dornishman Master of Ships. 

- Podrick is knighted by Brienne and goes to take her position as Sansa’s sworn sword. 

- Bran demands to go beyond the Wall. Sansa is against it, but finally she accepts it. 

- Jon is advised to marry Arianne Martell, but he doesn’t make a decision and stays alone.

- Jon asks Jaime what would he think if in the future he decided to name one of his and Brienne’s children his heir. Jaime tells him to piss off and that he would never allow it, as longs as he lives, that he’s had enough of his children dying because of that damn chair. Jon understands. 

- Jaime tells him he doesn’t have to marry, that now when he’s king he can legitimize any bastard he fathers. But Jon doesn’t want to consider bastards. 

...

[dwellordream]

“...In presenting that value-set, I also think Dhuoda provides a valuable corrective to current pop-cultural assumptions about the values and behavior of the medieval aristocracy (often considered with little concern for the variety created by the vastness of the period). In this pop-imagining, the nobility is cynical and machiavellian: they break faith regularly, are at best irreligious (and frequently actively anti-clerical), they often brutish, largely holding ‘book learning’ in contempt, and hold to strict realpolitik (‘power is power’).

We might call this the Game of Thrones aristocratic values (if it seems like I pick on Game of Thrones a lot here, it is because it is by far, above and away the most culturally impactful representation of the Middle Ages – albeit in fantasy form – in the last decade at least), but the same basic framework shows up in the nobility of The Witcher (novels, games and series) and dozens of lesser works; those sets of assumptions in turn seep into works that at least imagine themselves to be historical (particularly the crop of middling historically set medieval political dramas that emerged in Game of Thrones‘ wake, most of which, it seems, feature scheming, amoral, irreligious and often brutish aristocrats).

And of course it doesn’t come from nowhere – the grim turn in the presentation of the medieval nobility is itself a reaction against an older trend of presenting the European Middle Ages as a lost period of morality, a ‘clean’ past (think The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) or even to an extent the Lord of the Rings (but only if one has not read the Silmarillion)). And that vision – all chivalry and little violence (a vision which is itself a terrible misunderstanding of what chivalry was and to whom it applied) – is worth reacting against. The courts of the actual Middle Ages were not inhabited by perfect, pious Sir Galahads. These were military aristocrats; they did quite a bit of fighting, much of it very nasty. In a week or two, we’ll take a closer look at some military aristocrats writing about violence (Bertran de Born and Antarah Ibn Shaddad, to be specific); their attitude is hardly pacific.

But for now, I want to focus on the contrast between Carolingian values and the Game of Thrones aristocratic package. In no small part because, quite frankly, I find the GoT aristocratic package showing up more and more in my own students and the assumptions they make about how people in the past viewed their world: that learning was devalued, that religion was viewed cynically, and that ‘power politics’ was normal and accepted (you may sense the presence of some of the underlying assumptions of the Cult of the Badass there as well – if knights were powerful fighters, mustn’t they be badasses as well? But this is an anachronism – the medieval vision of the great fighter (e.g. Roland from the Song of Roland) has precious little to do with the modern ‘badass’ action hero)

...Of course the most obvious difference is in Dhuoda’s emphasis on William keeping his vow of homage, both because such an oath was literally sacred and people in the past generally believed their own religion, but also because – as she quite clearly flags – breaking troth without justification could be well and truly dangerous in a society that functionally ran on oaths of fealty. These social dictates meant something quite important to this class.

...Another clear difference is the value placed on counsel and learning. The GoT aristocrat often attends councils but rarely take counsel meaningfully; they bark at their subordinates, belittle their ideas and generally bully them (this isn’t restricted to Game of Thrones of course; cf. both Richard and William Wallace in Braveheart for instance). But Dhuoda stresses the need to both offer good counsel and to listen to it as well. This is by no means unique to Dhuoda – cf. Einhard on Charlemagne’s temperament in court (which in turn becomes a fixture of the chansons – the old, often wise king, patiently holding court and listening carefully to his advisors; often this figure is, as in Roland, quite literally Charlemagne). An important component of the ideal lord was one who took counsel effectively, and an ideal vassal offered it eloquently and intelligently (note that Dhuoda stresses both the content of the advice but also the quality of its delivery).

And of course that was important. The advisers to high lords and kings were themselves (along with a handful of scholars and clerics) important military men. Were a king to opt, instead of listening patiently, to berate and shame his subordinates, he might well end up with a war on his hands (as, of course, Charles eventually does when he executes Bernard; while William dies in 850, his brother (also Bernard) remains a thorn in Charles’s side until the latter’s death in 877.) And in a military system where armies were composed of a retinue-of-retinues generating consensus among the major aristocrats (the men Dhuoda calls magnati) was crucial for actually winning those conflicts.

And where the GoT aristocrat is often dismissive of ‘book learning’ of any sort (GoT, in contrast to its books, quite clearly concludes that Tyrion’s book habit is a useless waste of time and he seems to be the only member of the nobility who engages in it), Dhuoda is adamant: reading is important, as are learned men at court. I honestly wonder why the nobles of Westeros continue to maintain maesters given that they never listen to them. Contrast Dhuoda’s advice: read, and collect a lot of books, she tells William. And she is demonstrating that emphasis; Dhuoda is at pains to show off her own reading and learning throughout – one imagines as a way of building credibility with her reader (her son). That performance of education is one she expects will be understood and respected by other military aristocrats.

In this, Dhuoda is not unique, but an exemplar of her historical moment, the Carolingian Renaissance, a resurgence of literacy and interest in literary culture. Einhard goes on at some length about the education Charlemagne made sure his children had (and how Charlemagne himself, starting late in life, strove to be proficient at reading and writing, but was never more the middling). Charlemagne even went to considerable lengths to assemble scholars in his court (particularly through Alcuin of York; one of these learned men recruited by him was Einhard). That emphasis that the king and his court ought to be learned continues through the later Carolingians (Dhuoda’s contemporaries) and into the High Middle Ages (the period c. 1000 to c. 1300). Whereas the Carolingian era effectively ends in the tenth century, literacy continues to widen over the following centuries; in a sense, the Carolingian Renaissance doesn’t really end.

And finally, this was a society that – rather than being cynical about their religion – was absolutely soaked through with it. Religious thinking was not limited to Church or prayer, but suffused how these fellows thought about politics and every day life. Major political decisions were made with deference to religious concerns (demonstrated most dramatically, perhaps, in the ability of a series of Popes to humble a sequence of German emperors during the investiture controversy). Secular leaders – including the aforementioned Louis the Pious most famously – poured resources into religious observance both to demonstrate piety, but also in the very real fear for their own souls. Even ruthless monarchs were often quite religiously observant (Edward I Longshanks, – the villain of Braveheart – for instance, was a very regular church-goer).

Now, does all of this mean that medieval courts were a paradise of proper conduct? Of course not. The annals of the periods feature their share of rogues and scoundrels who are accused of defying the standards of aristocratic values in one way or another. And even within the standards, there was plenty of space for violence – conflicting obligations, situations where multiple vassals felt entitled (through inheritance or promise) to the same land or title and so on. There was no shortage of potential justifications for conflict, but those justifications are typically framed with within the aristocratic code of conduct, as a product of its conflicting obligations, rather than simple, opportunistic realpolitik.

...Contrary to the popular image of a boorish and brutish group, it was an aristocracy that valued literacy and learning and placed great store in a shared code of conduct (which, again, was not a peaceful code of conduct – there were rules, but those rules involved quite a lot of violence and did almost nothing to protect most commoners) and tremendous weight on religious observance. The ideal Carolingian warrior-aristocrat was literate, pious, considered and slow to anger, taking counsel from their greater vassals, fearsome on the battlefield and fearful in the Church.”

- Bret Devereaux, “A Trip Through Dhuoda of Uzès (Carolingian Values).”