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the-broken-truth · 3 years

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Surprisingly, i really love your oc (Eliza Dimitrescu) Senior! Ahem- okay so, my question is could you do a headcanon for the dimitrescu daughters (including Eliza) reacting to their youngest sibling (the reader) die because of various ways such as illness or being killed and others?

I really want to see the bond of caring for their youngest sibling- and this idea has been stucked in my mind for a while, and That's why I drew Eliza's Death and Daniela visited her grave because she still cares about her little sister even though Eliza is already gone-

Oh i almost forgot, it's okay. It's not a canon. Maybe not yet- (hehe)

welp- thank you for ur time! remember, ur junior is always here to help and support u >:3

-Snowwy

Broken Truth: Anything for a friend, Snowwy. Now, let the words weave together!!

Warning - Very Dark, Involving Death [PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK]

- Bela Dimitrescu (Unaware) -

Bela was the Eldest of the Dimitrescu Daughters.

She was the most responsible one.

The one who was aware of anything going on with her sisters.

But in this case, she wasn't and it caused the House of Dimitrescu the loss of something precious - something that would not be returned.

And Bela was to blame.

She stood before the grand fireplace and looked upon the golden urn that sat upon the top of it.

Upon the surface of the glass was a golden plaque with the words: [Y/N] Dimitrescu - Gone But Never Forgotten.

Bela could feel the tears building up.

Her youngest sister was gone...and it was all her fault.

The 2 of them were in the library - Alcina had to attend a lord meeting, while Cassandra, Dani, and Eliza were in the village for some manner of business.

Leaving Bela with the youngest of the Dimitrescu Spawn - a little toddler named [Y/N].

She was young - small. Only 5 years old but could still get into trouble just like her sisters could.

She was mortal - too young for the Cadou Parasite; Mother Miranda wouldn't give it to her until she was at least 15 to make sure she would live through it.

Bela wanted to read something and gave the child a book to read, sitting her in a chair beside her with the stack of baby books with bright and colorful pictures, along with a doll that Eliza had made for the infant.

Bela sat in the chair next to her and the two of them began reading their books.

Hours had passed and it was silent - just as it would be if Bela was alone in the library and it was that silence that made her slip into her own little bubble.

That bubble made it impossible for her to noticed the child got out of her chair and began to walk around.

That bubble stopped Bela from looking up from her book to see her youngest sister climbing on a very unstable bookshelf.

But that bubble popped...when the bookshelf came crashing down...right on top of the girl's tiny book.

Bela's eyes widened as she threw her book away and ran over to the down bookshelf and pushed it off her sister but she could tell by the look on her face...

She was too late.

The toddler's neck was snapped clean half and the light in her eyes was fading fast.

Bela gathered the girl in her arms and tried to hold her head to make her breathe easier but it was no use - no air was coming from her lips...and her heart began to slow its pace...until it stopped completely.

She screamed.

The door burst open.

And the entire family came in.

Alcina shoved her eldest away and held her baby in her arms but seeing as there was no longer a heartbeat, she knew her baby was gone.

The mother cried out in agony as the daughters looked at their eldest sister and asked...

"What have you do?"

She couldn't give an answer.

There was a small service.

The Lords and Mother Miranda attended.

The body was burned and the ashes were placed in the urn and secured above the fireplace.

No one said a word to Bela who just stood there...with her little sister's doll clenched to her chest.

Never again did she enter the library.

Never again did she read a book.

Forever would remain aware - for the sake of her other sisters.

And in honor of the one she lost.

- Cassandra Dimitrescu (Reckless) -

Her mother always told her that she needed to make sure she closed the door to the cellar when she comes and goes from her experiments.

She always thought her mother was overreacting.

But it wasn't until she lost something precious.

Cassandra was bored and wanted to have some fun with the creatures in the cellar.

She took her key and went down there but she didn't notice that she didn't lock the door from the other side to keep anything from getting out.

She had her fun and played with her toys until she was bored again and went up the stairs to return to the castle, only noticing that the door was open and bloody footprints were leading out of the cellar.

Her eyes widened and her blood froze.

One of them got out...

Loud screaming made her jump in her robes - something was wrong! Someone was hurt!

She ran out of the room and slammed the door, making sure to lock it behind her before she followed the bloody footprints.

She began noticing that the footprints were more apart - showing that the creature was running.

No - it was hunting.

But what would it be able to hunt? Everyone in Castle Dimitrescu could take care of themselves.

Except...

Oh no...

Mother Miranda, no...

[Y/N]...

She ran after the footprints and rounded the corner when she saw something familiar on the ground - a bright yellow stuffed bunny.

Not just any bunny - that was [Y/N]'s Bunny, she's had it since she was a baby and she never left that bunny anywhere.

As she got closer - she noticed that the bunny wasn't so yellow anymore.

It was stained.

Stained red.

And the red stained recked of iron.

Blood

And it was still fresh.

Cassandra picked up the bunny and followed the bloodstains down the hall until she came to an open room - crying from the inside.

that was her mother crying.

She entered the room...and her heart sank...

In the room were her mother and sisters - her mother on her knees with her back as she held something in her arms.

On side of the room laid the missing creature that escaped from the basement - dead with his throat sliced open - and its mouth...fresh blood was dripping from its open jaws

Bela noticed Cassandra standing there with the bunny in her hand...and she marched over to her middle sister with fury in her eyes.

"What have you done?" Bela hissed.

"W...What?" Cassandra stuttered but that just made Bela even madder.

'"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?!?!"

SMACK!

Cassandra's face hit the ground as her elder sister struck her - she opened her eyes and in her mother's lap...

She could see a small lifeless arm...dangling...

Her worse fears...were confirmed.

Her recklessness...killed her little sister.

- Daniela Dimitrescu (Accident) -

Dani loved danger.

It made her feel like more of a badass and she loved the feeling.

But it made her mother and her sisters uneasy and they constantly warned Dani that she if wasn't careful - there was gonna be an accident.

She didn't believe them.

She didn't listen.

But now...

She wished she did.

Daniela was in the weapons room - testing out a new bow that her Uncle gave her.

She was always told to lock the door to the room to make sure no one came in and was caught in her crosshairs.

But that day, she didn't lock the door - too excited to try her new weapon.

She gathered her arrows in their quiver and began firing them at random targets.

She loved the feeling of the bow in her hand.

She loved the sound of the arrows hitting the hearts of their targets.

She was so entrenched with the feeling that she didn't hear the door open.

When she turned to face the target at her 6, she saw a figure but it was covered in shadows - a new target.

She pointed the arrow at the shadows and released the arrow...

It went soaring...

And hit the heart of the shadow...

And the shadow...screamed in pain.

The rush began fading as the confusion rose and when everything began clear - she was horrified at what she saw.

The arrow did hit it target - the heart.

The heart of her youngest sister.

The girl was groaning in pain as the blood began leaking from the wound.

The girl opened her mouth to speak but it came short.

Dani threw the bow to the ground and rushed to her sister's side - gathering the girl in her arms, careful to miss the arrow in her chest and run out of the room to reach the doctor.

Her mother and sisters stood with her outside the doctor's office, waiting for the doctor to tell them she was able to save her sister.

"What were you thing?!" Eliza screamed at her, "Firing an arrow at an infant?!"

"It...It was an accident. I didn't hear her come in the room." Dani said.

"This is why you were told to lock your door! To make sure nothing like this would happen!" Bela screamed with tears in her eyes.

The doctor came out with her head down and Alcina asked the question.

"How is she?"

The doctor shook her head and said...

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Those were the words that shattered the Dimitrescu Family and all the time, all Dani could think was...

'It was an accident.'

- Eliza Dimitrescu (Killed) -

The day she became the youngest sister was the day that destroyed both her mind and her heart.

It was a normal day - she and her youngest sister was going shopping in the village for a new winter coat for her little one.

Everything was fine until they ran into her.

Eliza's Birth Mother.

She hissed at her.

Demanding money.

"I'm your mother, you have to do what I say!" Was her reason

But Eliza was a Dimitrescu and she owed her nothing and warned her never to approach her again.

But she didn't listen - it must have been a mental problem or maybe she was drunk...but that would cost them both deeply.

The stray woman lunged forward and grabbed the little girl by her wrist, yanking her away from Eliza and pulled her into her body before taking a few steps back.

Eliza was ready to tear out her throat but she saw the woman pull out a blade and hold it to the young girl's throat, making her shiver.

She told her she would give her money, she'd do whatever she asked but begged her to let the child go.

She was 5.

She was innocent.

She had nothing to do with this.

But the woman didn't see it that way...

She wanted to hurt Eliza for not doing what she said.

She wanted Eliza to hurt as much as she did when she lost her husband.

And most importantly...

She wanted to hurt Alcina Dimitrescu for saving Eliza and giving her a perfect life.

And she would do that.

She had to do that.

And she did...

By slicing the throat of the little girl.

Eliza screamed out as the blade went across her little sister's throat and her noble blood stained the ground and snow.

Eliza lunged with her claws and fangs out.

Tearing into the body of tainted flesh like a vengeful tigress.

Once she was done - she crawled over to the little girl's body and roared like a mournful dragon, causing her mother and sisters to come out.

No one blamed Eliza for not being able to save her.

No one thought it was her fault.

Eliza blamed herself.

Every time she went to the grave, she would tell her little sister's soul this...

"If I had killed her time the same day I killed her husband...you would still be with me."

[End]

Broken Truth: Thoughts, Snowwy? @snowflakestree

#resident evil 8 #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #dimitrescu family #daniela dimitrescu #eliza dimitrescu (oc)

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une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir · 3 years

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random thoughts on jon connington’s chapters

This is part 2, part 1 can be found here.

The Griffin Reborn

Aegon and Danerys

The first part of this chapter details Jon Connington taking over his former castle Griffin's Roost as well as remembering how he lost the Battle of Stony Sept.

Some Daniella stans have cried about how the show made her bad (ahah she's already bad), by giving her Jon Connington's supposed endgame. I believe they're partially right. Jon Connington's thoughts on Stoney Sept are foreshadowing of the burning of King's Landing, but of Danerys doing it.

The Griffin Reborn ~ ADWD

He had lost it all at Stoney Sept, in his arrogance. (...)

And so he swept down on Stoney Sept, closed off the town, and began a search. (...) The townsfolk were hiding him. They moved him from one secret bolt-hole to the next, always one step ahead of the king's men. The whole town was a nest of traitors. At the end they had the usurper hidden in a brothel. What sort of king was that, who would hide behind the skirts of women? Yet whilst the search dragged on, Eddard Stark and Hoster Tully came down upon the town with a rebel army. Bells and battle followed, and Robert emerged from his brothel with a blade in hand, and almost slew Jon on the steps of the old sept that gave the town its name.

For years afterward, Jon Connington told himself that he was not to blame, that he had done all that any man could do. His soldiers searched every hole and hovel, he offered pardons and rewards, he took hostages and hung them in crow cages and swore that they would have neither food nor drink until Robert was delivered to him. All to no avail.

Bobby B was very much loved by the people in general, in fact that's the whole thing with Stoney Sept. The townsfolk hid him because they loved him, despite the violence inflicted towards them. As Connington says, they endured everything for Bobby B's sake, they rebuffed bribes and they endured executions, even a hunger strike. Not one turned traitor, not one turned over Bobby B. Such we have a town hiding a "ruler" they love.

As a side-note, in the books the bells tolled to warn the citizens of the battle and to persuade them to stay inside their houses. It was a statement, marking a rebellion against the invading force and not a surrender signal. I believe it's in the show that is said, bells ring for dead kings, weddings (bride of fire, meaning biurning shit), and the beginning of war (this was waaay before they came up with the accident that is season 8).

Daenerys IV ~ ACOK

(second stanza) A tall lord with copper skin and silver-gold hair stood beneath the banner of a fiery stallion, a burning city behind him. (...) A cloth dragon swayed on poles amidst a cheering crowd. (...) A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly.

Epilogue ~ AFFC

Aegon has been shaped for rule since before he could walk. (...) He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Tommen has been taught that kingship is his right. Aegon knows that kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them."

Aegon (who's associated with boats, the Shy Maid) will be loved, he's the cloth dragon the people are cheering for (it doesn't mean he's fake, LMAO) and Danerys will burn King's Landing in retalliation. Like Cersei Lannister ended up "loved" in the penultime episode of the show, when she took the townsfolk inside the Red Keep. Forced, I know, but that's what they depicted and what Daniella thought just before she burned them all, the townsfolk preferred Cersei to Daniella. And we highly suspect show!Cersei took book!Aegon's role, such it will be him that will be sitting in King's Landing in the books.

The Griffin Reborn ~ ADWD

"Tywin Lannister himself could have done no more," he had insisted one night to Blackheart, during his first year of exile.

"There is where you're wrong," Myles Toyne had replied. "Lord Tywin would not have bothered with a search. He would have burned that town and every living creature in it. Men and boys, babes at the breast, noble knights and holy septons, pigs and whores, rats and rebels, he would have burned them all.

he would have burned them all.

This is Bran's prophetic visions in sequence, linking Drogon, flying over King's Landing, then an "equivalence" between Aerys saying "burn them all" and Danerys with Drogon.

It's also worth mentionioning for the milionth of time, that "Daenerys" is is an anagram for "Aerys End", you know the guy who wanted to burn King's Landing to the ground instead of letting beloved by the people Bobby B take the throne.

The Griffin Reborn ~ ADWD

He was not wrong, Jon Connington reflected, leaning on the battlements of his forebears. I wanted the glory of slaying Robert in single combat, and I did not want the name of butcher.

Daenerys IV ~ ADWD

Dany was appalled. He is a monster. A gallant monster, but a monster still. "Do you take me for the Butcher King?"

"Better the butcher than the meat. All kings are butchers. Are queens so different?" (...)

What have I done? she thought, huddled in her empty bed. I have waited so long for him to come back, and I send him away. "He would make a monster of me," she whispered, "a butcher queen." But then she thought of Drogon far away, and the dragons in the pit. There is blood on my hands too, and on my heart. We are not so different, Daario and I. We are both monsters.

Danerys accepting her dragon side, which haappens at the end of ADWD and this is why she manages to ride Drogon, is directly connected to being a monster, a butcher. This is word play that translated to the show as well.

GoT 7x02 - Stormborn

DAENERYS picks up a dragon figurine from the table.

DAENERYS: If Viserys had three dragons and an army at his back, he'd have invaded King's Landing already.~

TYRION: Conquering Westeros would be easy for you. But you're not here to be queen of the ashes.

DAENERYS: No.

DAENERYS puts down the dragon figurine.

TYRION: We can take the Seven Kingdoms without turning it into a slaughterhouse. If the great houses support your claim against Cersei, the game is won.

Danerys clothes when she burned King's Landing have red staining the skirt, like a butcher's apron stained with blood as he works.

The Griffin Reborn ~ ADWD

"Wait, I say. Gather our power, win some small lords to our cause, let Lysono Maar dispatch his spies to learn what we can learn of our foes."

Connington gave the plump captain-general a cool look. This man is no Blackheart, no Bittersteel, no Maelys. He would wait until all seven hells were frozen if he could rather than risk another bout of blisters. "We did not cross half the world to wait. Our best chance is to strike hard and fast, before King's Landing knows who we are.

In the show, Danerys is impatient to attack King's Landing, she doesn't want to wait, and has to be convinced REPEATEDLY to not "strike hard and fast". And in one of them, Daenerys and butchering linked together makes yet another appearance (the script above).

Aegon the Conqueror

Maegor the Cruel

Danerys the Butcher. Bitch deserves it.

Aegon and Jon Connington

In the second part of the chapter, Aegon arrives at the Griffin's Roost and Connington and Aegon discuss the attack on Storm's End.

Sansa VII ~ ASOS

The Broken Tower was easier still. They made a tall tower together, kneeling side by side to roll it smooth, and when they'd raised it Sansa stuck her fingers through the top, grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his collar. "That was unchivalrously done, my lady."

"As was bringing me here, when you swore to take me home."

She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

The Griffin Reborn ~ ADWD

A solid man, and true, Connington thought as he watched Duck dismount, but not worthy of the Kingsguard. He had tried his best to dissuade the prince from giving Duckfield that cloak, pointing out that the honor might best be held in reserve for warriors of greater renown whose fealty would add luster to their cause, and the younger sons of great lords whose support they would need in the coming struggle, but the boy would not be moved. "Duck will die for me if need be," he had said, "and that's all I require in my Kingsguard. The Kingslayer was a warrior of great renown, and the son of a great lord as well."

At least I convinced him to leave the other six slots open, else Duck might have six ducklings trailing after him, each more blindingly adequate than the last. "Escort His Grace to my solar," he commanded. "At once."

Prince Aegon Targaryen was not near as biddable as the boy Young Griff had been, however. The better part of an hour had passed before he finally turned up in the solar, with Duck at his side. "Lord Connington," he said, "I like your castle."

"Your father's lands are beautiful," he said. His silvery hair was blowing in the wind, and his eyes were a deep purple, darker than this boy's. "As do I, Your Grace. Please, be seated. Ser Rolly, we'll have no further need of you for now."

"No, I want Duck to stay." The prince sat. "We've been talking with Strickland and Flowers. They told us about this attack on Storm's End that you're planning."

Jon Connington did not let his fury show. "And did Homeless Harry try to persuade you to delay it?"

"He did, actually," the prince said, "but I won't. Harry's an old maid, isn't he? You have the right of it, my lord. I want the attack to go ahead … with one change. I mean to lead it."

As I said in the part 1 of this series, there are many parallels between Aegon's story and Sansa's story. One is a future event, where Sansa and Aegonwill escape the toxic mentors that pose as their fake parent (even if Connington isn't 1/10 as bad as Littlefinger).

In Sansa's case, this most likely will happen when she flees north if "Sansa is Grey Girl" theory holds true (and it happened in the show, moreover this is a parallel she has with Arya and Bran as well, both will also have to flee their toxic mentors soon) and she'll grow more independent from Pedofinger as she regains her identity as Sansa Stark and with her cousin (and the North) by her side.

In Aegon's case, we can see that he's already more indepedent than he used to be (it all started when he stepped up at the Golden Company higher-ups and convinced them to fight for him and his cause). Connington suggests this is because the boy is now Aegon Targaryen and no longer Young Griff, in other words Aegon is growing more confident the more he regains his identity.I suspect that like Sansa, Aegon will grow even more confident with his cousin Arianne (and Dorne) by his side.

Sansa II ~ AGOT

When Sansa finally looked up, a man was standing over her, staring. He was short, with a pointed beard and a silver streak in his hair, almost as old as her father. "You must be one of her daughters," he said to her. He had grey-green eyes that did not smile when his mouth did. "You have the Tully look."

Sansa VII ~ AGOT

"I won't." He sounded almost like Marillion, the night he'd gotten so drunk at the wedding. Only this time Lothor Brune would not appear to save her; Ser Lothor was Petyr's man. "You shouldn't kiss me. I might have been your own daughter . . ."

"Might have been," he admitted, with a rueful smile. "But you're not, are you? You are Eddard Stark's daughter, and Cat's. But I think you might be even more beautiful than your mother was, when she was your age."

The Griffin Reborn ~ ADWD

But when Jon Connington stepped out onto the high battlements, the view was just as intoxicating as he remembered: the crag with its wind-carved rocks and jagged spires, the sea below growling and worrying at the foot of the castle like some restless beast, endless leagues of sky and cloud, the wood with its autumnal colors. "Your father's lands are beautiful," Prince Rhaegar had said, standing right where Jon was standing now. And the boy he'd been had replied, "One day they will all be mine." As if that could impress a prince who was heir to the entire realm, from the Arbor to the Wall. (...)

"Lord Connington," he said, "I like your castle."

Pedofinger and Ebonington. Leave the children alone! *screams*

#aegon VI targaryen

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roman-writing · 3 years

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no great revelation (2/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Tyalor

Rating: T

Wordcount: 7,223

Summary: Jamie just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day's work on the Telosian Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself caught up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please don’t expect anything from this story. I’m just doodling in between writing ch11 and ch12 of ‘bring home a haunting.’

read it below or read it here on AO3

II.

—

Jamie laughed.

It wasn’t the best reaction, but it was an honest reaction. Sometimes in life you just had to laugh. With deep incredulity.

“I have a hard time believing you -” she gestured towards Dani, blonde-haired, pastel-silked, wide-eyed damsel in distress Dani, “- killed a Jedi.”

“I told you,” Dani insisted with a scowl which spoke volumes regarding how she felt about Jamie’s reaction. “It was an accident.”

“Even as an accident. No,” Jamie corrected, sitting up straighter on the couch. “Especially as an accident. Do you know how hard it is to kill a Jedi?”

“Well, I -”

“Don’t answer that. Because you’re wrong. Because you don’t know.”

Jamie pushed herself to her feet and crossed over to her bedroom. She shook her head and muttered to herself as she pulled out two pairs of pajamas from the drawers built into the wall. “Killed a Jedi. And I bet Telos has a moon now, too. Fuck’s sake.”

She began to strip down to change. Never mind that there was no wall to protect whatever virtue she had left. That had all gone out the window long ago. The Temple wasn’t exactly a place that left one with their dignity intact. Not when she’d spent her years crammed, tip to tail, in every other padawan’s space. One quickly learned to grow accustomed to the notion that ‘personal space’ was non-existent.

“Can’t you go into the bathroom to do that?” she heard Dani ask from the couch, sounding exasperated.

“Too late,” said Jamie, tugging the baggy shirt over her head and adjusting the soft elastic band of the pants around her waist. “Already done.”

She tossed the small mining laser onto a table without any care if it actually landed there or not. She smacked another panel on the wall, and her dirty boilersuit got shoved down the laundry shaft that flipped open. She closed it with her knee, then scooped up the other pair of pajamas on her way back to the couch.

“Here.” Jamie tossed the pajamas onto Dani’s lap. “We’re roughly the same height. Should fit you fine.”

Dani started slightly when the folded up fabric hit her legs. She stared down at the pajamas — the shirt dark-washed and splashed with a loopy neon print for Figrin D’an and the Modal Nodes — and her fingers slowly curled around the cloth, gripping it tight. She was so quiet that Jamie frowned.

“Hey. You all right?”

“I know,” Dani whispered, almost too soft to hear.

“What?”

“I know how - how hard it is to kill a Jedi.”

Jamie opened her mouth to reply, but the words died in her throat. Dani’s hands and shoulders were shaking.

“He just - He grabbed me in the transport, and then I - I don’t know what happened but he was suddenly on the other side of the cabin and -” Dani continued, her voice ragged and raw. “He drew his lightsabre and started yelling, and he kept looking at me like he was terrified and I didn’t - I was so tired and my head hurt - my head hurt so much. I couldn’t - I didn’t mean to - to -”

A broken note escaped Dani then, and Jamie just stood there, feeling like an asshole while a pretty woman started crying on her couch. And not the nice cute kind of crying, either. Soon Dani was pressing her face into the pajamas and trying to muffle great hitching sobs into the fabric, her whole body trembling.

“Okay,” said Jamie and she hesitantly reached out to pat the top of Dani’s head in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. One of Dani’s hands clutched at the hem of Jamie’s shirt like it was a lifeline, and she pressed her head into Jamie’s stomach so that Jamie could only stand there awkwardly while a stranger cried her eyes out and made a mess of it, too.

"I'm so tired,” Dani mumbled again, when the sobs had faded away into sniffles. “I’m so tired."

At some point Jamie had placed a hand on Dani’s shoulder, and her other hand had begun to absently stroke through her golden hair. "Okay. All right. Let's get you to bed.”

It took a bit of gentle convincing to get Dani to her feet. Jamie prodded her towards the bathroom to change and wash up. By the time Dani emerged, Jamie had already dug around in the closet for a spare blanket, which she was now tossing over her legs while she made herself comfortable on the couch.

Dani’s eyes were still red-rimmed, but the blotchiness had gone from her cheeks. She filled out Jamie’s pajamas better than Jamie ever did, and she blinked at Jamie from the doorway of the bathroom.

“You don’t have to -” she started to say.

“Just take the bed,” Jamie sighed. She lifted her hand and waved it for the motion sensor, and the holo feed turned off. “Be warned. I wake up early for work.”

Dani nodded and made her way uneasily towards the thin mattress, pulling back the sheets. “Do you -? I mean - Am I supposed to stay here while you -?”

Jamie spoke through a yawn and burrowed down into the lumpy couch cushions. “Dunno. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

Another wave and the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness. With no light pollution bleeding through the barred windows, the little apartment was a mass of shadow and shapes looming in a jungle through the night. Jamie could have manoeuvred through it all with her eyes closed — and had many times before — but she heard Dani shuffling around before the mattress finally creaked.

Jamie shut her eyes. She tried to tell herself that it was a night like any other night. She tried to pretend that it was a day off tomorrow, and she had indulged in too much drink downstairs at Ho’kyn’s, that she had only managed to stumble to the couch, half dressed, before falling asleep to the dull sound of the holo feed. Except the presence of another person in the room was too unfamiliar to ignore. Dani tossed and turned. Every time Jamie thought she had managed to slip away into sleep, another shuffle of the blankets would jolt her awake once more. And worse, Dani started crying again at some point. Quietly. But not as quietly as she probably thought.

Jamie groaned. She scrunched up her face and pressed a spare pillow over her head in an attempt to block out the noise.

It was going to be a long night.

—

There was a dip in the cushions, as if someone had just pressed their weight against the couch. It was the first thing she noticed apart from the cold. Shivering, Jamie blinked awake blearily, her back sore, her hair a mess, her brow furrowed in confusion. Even through the blanket and the warm spring night, she could feel an icy edge cut near to the bone. It took her a moment to register where exactly she was. That she had fallen asleep on the couch. And that there was someone kneeling over her, holding a lightsabre to her throat.

That certainly got her attention. She was definitely awake now.

A kickstart of adrenaline sent her heart hammering into overdrive. Every breath plumed from Jamie’s mouth and nose in little bursts of white steam that clung to the cold. Jamie had to quell the urge to flinch, to move in any kind of way that might end with her neck a gaping cauterised wound. The lightsabre hummed gently. She could feel the heat of it against her skin, and she winced when she swallowed reflexively.

The blade was the only source of light in the apartment. It drenched the air with a deep crimson haze. Dani was crouched atop her, hands holding the lightsabre steady. Her face was illuminated in a wash of red light, and her eyes — both her eyes — gleamed an eerie unblinking gold through the night.

And with a smile that never touched her eyes, Dani slashed the blade down in a single fluid motion.

Jamie jerked awake with a gasp. She flailed against the blanket that had tangled around her legs in the night, and in an attempt to clutch at her throat, she nearly toppled right off the couch and onto the floor. Managing to catch herself before she collapsed in a graceless snarl of limbs and blanket, Jamie scrambled to her feet, fists up, ready to punch the absolute living shite out of some air molecules. When it was clear there was no present danger, she kicked the blanket away and reached up to feel at her neck.

Her unblemished, completely lightsabre-free neck.

Still breathing heavily, Jamie looked around. Sure enough, Dani was sound asleep in her bed, curled up beneath the sheets in a tiny ball, her mop of blonde hair barely visible.

Jamie closed her eyes and tilted her head back to breathe towards the ceiling in relief. Just a dream, she told herself. Just a really vivid fucked up dream. Running a hand through her dark unruly curls, she trudged off towards the bathroom. She didn’t bother being overly quiet while she took a shower and pulled on a fresh set of clothes for the day — a supposedly sweat-resistant pair of leggings and undershirt to go under a Corps issued boilersuit — and yet when she emerged from the bathroom Dani had not stirred in the slightest.

Jamie twisted her damp hair into a messy half bun at the back of her head; it wasn’t long enough for anything else. Then she zipped up the boilersuit to midway up her chest. Grabbing her work boots, Jamie sat on the other edge of the bed and stomped her feet into them one at a time.

“Hey,” she said, not unkindly but not softly either.

Behind her Dani stirred somewhat, the sheets shifting as she rolled over with a wordless grumble.

Jamie bent over to tie up the laces of her boots. “I’m going to work. There’s food in the fridge. Don’t leave the apartment unless you want to be spotted.”

No response.

Sitting up straight, Jamie leaned over and gently poked Dani’s shoulder. “I need an affirmative. Or I’m going to keep annoying you.”

That earned her a sullen noise. “Yeah. Okay,” Dani mumbled as she pulled the sheets completely over her head and burrowed further into the pillows.

With a shake of her head, Jamie rose to her feet. She had the front door open before she patted at her leg. She turned back around to grab the mining laser from where it had rolled onto the floor at some point during the night, and strapped it to her thigh before strolling out into the grey pre-dawn of Telos IV.

By all accounts, it was a day like any other day. Anybody watching her would have noticed nothing different about Jamie’s routine. She caught the railspeeder a few blocks down and rode it from Thani all the way to the forests just past the grasslands in quadrant two. Chodo Habat Parkway was empty at this time of morning, but in just a few hours it would be a bustle of activity. The railspeeder flew over the Parkway and Jamie watched it from the window with barely registered interest. The only other person on the train that she could see was a Rodian dead asleep on the other side of the cabin, his antennae drooping.

By the time Jamie made it to the edge of quadrant two, the sun had risen over the horizon and washed the planet in muted green and gold light. Far below the railspeeder, the grasslands rippled in a breeze. She eyed it with a touch more interest than for the Parkway. The previous generation of AgriCorps members had managed to get the grasslands to take, but only two species. It had taken Jamie and her team four years to introduce a handful of other grass species robust enough to cling to life in this dirt. She sat up a little straighter in her seat and tracked the varieties she could spot from this distance.

Turned out that even after three hundred years, an orbital barrage rendering an entire planet ground zero could still have an adverse effect on soil leaching.

God damn fucking Saul Karath and the damn Sith.

It was another half hour until she reached the drop off point. When the railspeeder slowed to a halt, Jamie dragged herself upright and hopped off. A few people passed by to get onto the railspeeder for the next stop, but the outdoor station on the forest outskirts of quadrant two was largely full of people coming to work, not leaving. She paid a few credits for a dietary supplement being sold by a dented droid vendor behind a small stall with a leaning canopy.

“You should eat actual meals sometimes, Jamie,” the droid admonished even as it deposited the tablet-sized supplement into her outstretched palm.

“I’ve tasted your swill before, C-87,” said Jamie. “I’ll take my chances with the supplement, thanks.”

C-87 gave an affronted sniff, but handed her a compostable cup that was filled with steaming stimcaf. “On the house.”

She took the cup and washed down the supplement with a heady swig. “You’re a legend, mate.”

“I am not at all well known outside of Thani,” C-87 said in obvious confusion.

She shook her head with a smile. “It’s just an expression.”

“Oh. Right. I will add it to my database with the others.”

Jamie continued down a ramp to the broad dirt path that served as a crossroads for the area. A turbo-tractor dragged piles of gear down the track, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. A ruddy-skinned Ithorian was directing teams in shifts for the day, handing out new jobs and gathering feedback on the screen between his hands. Jamie walked towards him just as a small group departed with waves, their expressions tired but not unfriendly.

“Morning, Murr,” Jamie greeted.

Murr’s only reply was a deep reverberation of hello. It sounded more like the shifting of tectonic plates than actual language.

“I saw some patchy sections over the grassland outskirts of quadrant one,” Jamie said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the railspeeder behind her. “Can we get the scrubs to take a look this afternoon?”

Murr was already tapping away at his screen. The translator device at the top of Murr’s long neck blinked, and through his rumbling subvocalisations a robotic voice said, “I will send a team to check the clay capping has not been permeated.”

“And make sure they don’t forget to test the aquifer this time,” Jamie insisted.

Murr’s throat sack expanded and he made a low booming sound that she had come to learn was a sort of derisive snort for his species. The robotic voice said, “You have little faith. You should consider revisiting your Temple.”

“Sounds almost as boring as one of your jungle Herd meets.”

He waved her away, but she saw him make an extra note on his screen nevertheless.

“Cheers.” She gave him a brisk pat on the shoulder before striding off towards the treeline.

From one of the pockets of her boilersuit, Jamie fished out a key. She hopped onto a rusting old swoop bike and turned it on with a twist of the key. As she sped off into the forest, she chucked the now empty cup of stimcaf over her shoulder, where it would dissolve into the nitrogen rich soil with the next scheduled rainfall.

Work was dull, repetitive, yet fulfilling. Technically Jamie supervised a team of new AgriCorps entries, most of them young idealists who’d chosen this Service out of a sense of obligation to the Restoration, as though it were some kind of symbol against the tide of red creeping across the galactic map with every passing day. They hadn’t been parcelled out to the other branches like loose change that never quite added up to a whole number. They found her dry pessimism inharmonious with their convictions, and so they only ever came to her for direction as a last resort.

And honestly it was the best for everyone involved. As far as Jamie was concerned, she was the last person who should be teaching anyone. Especially starry-eyed kids who looked like they’d only just graduated from being younglings at the Temple.

Even out in the far-reaching forests of Telos, Jamie felt like she was being watched, like someone would know exactly who she was hiding in her apartment. She kept a sharp eye on the treeline as she worked. At one point she nearly gave herself a second degree burn with the mining laser when a new entry snuck up on her with a question. Jamie sent them scurrying off with a gruff answer — ‘No, don’t plant them beneath the allelopaths, you prat’ — and returned to her careful pruning with a scowl.

By the end of the day, she was exhausted and paranoid and she still had a two and a half hour rail ride back home. To really spice things up, a huddle of officers shuffled into her rail car at one of the station stops. They went around questioning passengers about whether or not anyone had seen a woman of familiar description — blonde, pretty, mismatched eyes. When they reached Jamie, she shook her head. They glanced at the AgriCorps logo on her boilersuit, thanked her for her service and dedication, and went on their merry way.

She was bouncing her leg up and down when the railspeeder finally pulled into her station. She tried not to look like she was fleeing, but the officers had congregated at the far end of the rail car to chat amongst themselves, and the last thing she needed was to be pulled over for a candid discussion about the latest Restoration Project updates.

Telosians. Nosy fuckers. The lot of them.

The sun slanted towards the horizon as she walked home, her steps brisk, her shoulders hunched, her hands jammed into her pockets. Her boots rattled against the metal staircase leading up to her apartment. She held her breath while she punched in the passcode to open the door, half expecting the place to be empty, or to be a complete wreck. Dani gone. Dani taken. Dani just another strange memory to add to a list of strange memories.

Dani was, in fact, still there. Indeed, Dani was wearing a spare set of Jamie’s clothes and an apron, and she was puttering around the kitchenette. Her hair had been tied back in a braid and she was unpacking a few bags of groceries. Jamie recognised the logo stamped on the recyclable bags as belonging to a little market stall a few blocks down.

Jamie shut the front door behind her and locked it. “I thought I told you not to go outside. How did you even get back in without me?”

“I saw you enter the passcode last night,” Dani answered without looking up from what she was doing. She opened a cupboard and pulled out a pan that Jamie couldn’t even remember buying. It must have come with the apartment. “And you didn’t have any food.”

“There’s food in the fridge,” Jamie said.

In answer Dani opened said fridge, which was nearly barren. She gestured towards its bare shelves and said, “I’d hardly call dietary supplements and alcohol ‘food.’”

“Do you want to get caught? Because this is how you get caught.”

“Just -” Dani shut the fridge again and turned back to her previous task with a sigh. “Let me cook dinner. And then you can teach me some lightsabre forms afterwards.”

Jamie was in the process of tugging off her work boots, and she nearly fell over hearing that. “I’m sorry - I can do what?”

Turning on the electric stovetop, Dani pulled out some pre-packaged protein and sauce. “If I’m going to have it, then I at least want to know how to use it.”

“First of all,” Jamie finished taking off her shoes and left them by the door. Then she crossed the room so she could lean against the counter to talk to Dani. “Nobody just starts off with a lightsabre, all right? That’s not how it works. You need to do all sorts of inner peace bantha-shit before they even let you harvest kyber to make your own lightsabre. There’s a whole right of passage.” She gestured to herself emphatically, tapping her own chest. “I never got to make a lightsabre.”

There was a very attractive, very distracting curve to Dani’s smile when she replied, “Failed the inner peace part, huh?”

“Very funny,” said Jamie, not laughing. Dani moved to start cooking in earnest, but Jamie reached out to grasp her wrist. “Hey. Is this really what you want?”

Dani went still. There was no leap of electricity between them, not like that first night down at Ho’kyn’s. Still both of them hesitated, waiting for it to happen again.

When it didn’t, Dani’s jaw squared bullishly. “I want to be able to defend myself. Against -” she waved at Jamie with her free hand. “- you know.”

“Force sensitives.”

“Yeah.”

Jamie tapped her finger in a thoughtful manner; it took her a moment to realise that this meant she was tapping at Dani’s wrist while Dani watched her in confusion. Snatching her hand away, Jamie said, “Fine. C’mon.”

Pausing to rummage through one of the grocery bags for a bread bun, Jamie walked to the middle of the room and motioned for Dani to join her.

Dani blinked. “Wait - right now?”

“Are you gonna wait until I change my mind after dinner?”

Immediately, Dani switched the stove off and removed the apron. Come to think of it, Jamie couldn’t remember buying an apron either. Before she could dwell on that thought too hard, Dani had rushed over to the bedside table to scoop up the lightsabre, and was now standing before Jamie in the middle of her living room/kitchen/spare bedroom. She bounced eagerly on the balls of her feet, lightsabre hilt held unsheathed in one hand, awaiting instruction.

Fuck, but Jamie was bad at the whole teacher thing. Six months in the EduCorps had been enough to remind her — and everyone in her close vicinity — that she was Not Great at patience and bookishness. In fact, moving from the EduCorps had been her first Reassignment, and the Council had never put her back there. A decision which was met with universal relief. Especially from Jamie.

“Ground rules,” Jamie started.

Dani nodded to show she was listening.

“If I tell you to sheathe the blade, you sheathe it. If either you or I feel uncomfortable or in danger or — whatever — you sheathe it. If you hit something you shouldn’t, you sheathe it. If you drop it -” Jamie paused, then grimaced. “Don’t. Just don’t do that.”

Dani nodded again. “Okay.”

“Be careful,” Jamie warned. “Usually they start you off with a practice sabre. That -” she pointed to the hilt in Dani’s grasp, “- is the real deal. One wrong move, and you will kill someone. Probably yourself. Or me. Honestly I would prefer if it wasn’t me.”

“Okay,” Dani repeated, sounding exasperated this time.

Taking a step back so she was well clear of any sweep radius, Jamie bit into the bread bun and mumbled around a mouthful, “Go ahead.”

“What? Just -?” Dani gave the unlit hilt a little wave.

“Yeah,” said Jamie, chewing. “Go on.”

Dani’s thumb hovered over the silver activation button, and then she pressed down. The blade extended from the hilt, a deep and brilliant blue, blue as a Tythonian sky on a cold winter’s day, blue as an evening star. For a long moment Dani simply held it outright, the blue light washing out her face. Then she gave it an experimental slash through the air, the sound of the plasma blade like nothing else.

“It’s -” Dani said in surprise, “- heavy.”

Jamie hummed around another mouthful. She took the time to finish chewing before she answered, “You haven’t connected with it yet.”

Dani scrunched up her nose. “It’s just a fancy sword.”

“If that’s what you believe, then we should just go back to making dinner. Maybe you can use it to cook those steaks you bought.”

Dani pursed her lips. She lowered the blade, holding it loosely at her side so that the tip was pointed towards the ground. “No. Teach me.”

Studying the determination on Dani’s face, Jamie leaned back against the wall. She propped her foot back, crossed her arms, and said, “Lower your stance. We’re going to go through the forms, now.”

If nothing else, Dani was a quick learner. At least, that must have been the reason why this was going so well. It certainly couldn’t have been because Jamie was a decent teacher, because everyone from the Outer Rim to Tython knew that wasn’t true. Yet Dani, after an hour spent barefoot and wearing pajamas in Jamie’s living room, already looked more at home with a lightsabre in her hands than Jamie ever had after years of training in the Temple.

At one point, Jamie tore off a chunk of bread and threw it at the floor near Dani’s legs. Dani leapt back a step unsteadily and pressed the deactivation button so that the blade slid back up into the hilt.

“What was that for?” Dani asked.

Jamie jerked her chin towards her. “Pay attention to your feet. Look how narrow they are. Your opponent can put you off balance, take ground from you, force you to retreat.”

“You can just tell me that. You don’t need to throw food at me.” Dani knelt down to pick up the piece of bread and toss it into the sink.

Now that Jamie was actually looking at the floor more closely, she asked, “Did you vacuum today?”

“Yeah.”

“Since when did I own a vacuum?”

“It was in the supply closet behind your pantry.”

“I have a pantry?”

Dani walked over towards the kitchen side of the room and hit a panel on the wall that Jamie had never cared to fiddle with in the past. A whole section of the wall jutted out then slid sideways to reveal a whole host of kitchen items and cleaning supplies that Jamie had never even knew existed.

“Well, shit,” Jamie muttered, scratching at the back of her head. “I have a pantry.”

Hitting the panel again to make the wall shut, Dani took her place back in the centre of the floor. “Can we keep going?” she asked, and she already pressed the activation button to unsheathe the lightsabre once more.

Jamie lifted her eyebrows. By now she had crouched down against the wall, one leg outstretched as she idly fidgeted with the zipper of her boilersuit. “Start from the top. One. Two. Three -”

Eventually Jamie didn’t even have to mime the movements for Dani to follow along, and Dani — looking utterly pleased with herself, her smile radiant — finished a whole set without a single discernible flaw.

"This isn't so hard," Dani said. She gave the lightsabre a bold flourish as she turned on the spot.

Which of course meant that the blade cut right through Jamie's couch.

Dani scrambled to hit the deactivation button, nearly dropping the lightsabre in the process, but the damage was already done. The couch was cut cleanly in half. Slowly it buckled as they watched, slumping to the floor in the centre where it was no longer self supported. The cut through it smoked gently and smelled of burning hair.

Jamie glared.

Clutching the now unlit sabre hilt, Dani winced. "Sorry."

Jamie pushed herself upright, dusting off her hands. "I think that's enough lightsabre training for one evening,” she growled.

The worst part was how Dani kept apologising all through dinner.

“I’m sorry,” Dani said, hovering at Jamie’s elbow while Jamie loaded dishes into the automatic wash machine. "I can buy you a new couch.”

"Save your credits for the trip to Tython."

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t -” Jamie cut herself off. She shut the front-loading machine a little more firmly than was perhaps strictly necessary, then turned to face Dani, whose expression was positively doleful. “Don’t be sorry. Be better. Don’t get cocky just because you got through one set of the most basic lightsabre form there is.”

“Sor -” Dani started to say, then changed course. “I won’t.”

The lightsabre itself was propped atop the counter on the far side of the room, where Dani had hastily put it down moments after the incident.

Reaching for a dish towel, Jamie shook her head and started to wipe down the kitchen countertop. “You need proper training. Not whatever rubbish I can offer you.”

“I don’t want to go to the Temple. I don’t want to learn about -” Dani’s mouth snapped shut and she frowned down at her own feet.

“Being Force sensitive isn’t just something you can run away from, you know,” Jamie said. She ran water over the dish towel and rung it out before continuing where she’d left off.

“I told you,” Dani grumbled. “I’m not Force sensitive.”

“Fuck’s sake. This again?”

“You don’t need to teach me about the Force. You can just teach me the basics of a lightsabre.”

At that, Jamie laughed. She stopped mopping up the counter and turned to face Dani. “Fuckin’ hilarious that you think those two things are different somehow.”

With a huff, Dani turned aside. She crossed her arms and glowered at the maimed couch.

When it was clear she wasn’t going to speak, Jamie tossed down the towel. “Nothing you say will change the fact that you’re -”

“Stop,” Dani said through grit teeth. “Just - stop it.”

Jamie didn’t stop it. Because if there was one thing Jamie knew about herself, it’s that she didn’t have a lick of good sense. “What do you think will happen if you try to run from it, anyway? Do you think nobody will notice? Forever? Because even I noticed, and I’m about as Force sensitive as a tree stump.”

While Jamie spoke, Dani’s jaw clenched. “You think I want some Council to dictate my whole life? You think I want -?” she asked with a broad sweep of her hand towards Jamie’s apartment without finishing her sentence.

Jamie narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“No, go on.” Jamie took a step forward, and it was gratifying that Dani didn’t back down, that she held her ground. “If the Jedi don’t find you, the Sith will. You think my life is bad? What are you gonna do? Run forever? Why are you -?”

“Because! Because this will get worse!” Dani burst out, and there was a ragged edge to her voice that gave Jamie pause. “Because if I use it — if I do that then I’ll -!”

She stopped abruptly, hand flying to her head with a wince of pain. Concerned, Jamie reached out, but the moment she touched her, it was like being struck by lightning. Like a chorus of song branching out in all directions. Dani staggered away from her with a gasp, breaking the connection, and her eyes were squeezed shut, arms raised as though to ward off an incoming blow.

“I’m - I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to -! I didn’t -!” Dani was saying, apologising over and over, and all but cowering.

Jamie stared at her, hand still outstretched. Slowly she rubbed her fingertips together, half expecting a flicker of sparks to leap between them. The thrill of it still echoed around her ribcage and the roof of her mouth.

This time when Jamie reached out she was careful not to touch her. “Dani,” she said softly. “Nothing happened. It’s all right. Hey. You’re all right.”

Hesitant, Dani opened her eyes, peering around the room as if surprised that everything was still intact. She worried at her lower lip, her hands clenched at her sides. Finally she looked up at Jamie, and the fear was painted openly across her face, pleading and alone; it gleamed in her eyes.

"The Force isn't what you think," Jamie murmured. "You can't run from yourself."

Dani opened her mouth to speak, only to shut it again. She dropped her gaze and sniffed. For a brief terrifying moment Jamie thought she was going to cry again, but then Dani simply nodded. If anything her expression was a mixture between miserable and embarrassed. Jamie patted her upper arms, and for a brief second Dani tensed, only to relax when nothing happened.

“Now,” said Jamie. “Let me finish washing up. I’m afraid that if you help, you’ll cut my kitchen in half, too.”

Dani let out a watery laugh.

Jamie grinned in return. “I’m serious. My kitchen’s small enough as it is. Don’t need it drawn and quartered as well.”

Dani was biting back a smile when she looked up at her. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a jerk?”

Jamie pretended to look thoughtful and shook her head, but what she said was, “All the time.”

That earned her another snort of laughter. Dani wiped at her cheeks with both hands.

Picking up the dish towel once more, Jamie snapped it feebly in Dani’s direction. “Go on, now. Get.”

Dani lifted her hands in mock surrender and moved away, leaving Jamie to finish up in the kitchen alone. Jamie didn’t pay much attention to the sounds of rummaging in the apartment behind her. At one point the bathroom door shut, then she heard the hiss of water in the shower. She took the opportunity of Dani’s absence to strip down and get into pajamas without making her guest blush scarlet. As tempting a proposition as that was.

When Dani finally emerged from the bathroom, hair damp, pinning a towel to her chest with her fingers, Jamie was bored and flipping through the holo feed from the bed because the couch was — well, the couch still smelled like burning hair for starters. Bit unpleasant, that. Jamie wouldn’t be rid of the stench for weeks.

Getting to her feet, Jamie squeezed past Dani for her turn in the bathroom with a murmured, “‘Scuse me,” while Dani shied away from her, still looking guilty, like she was expecting Jamie to throw her out at any moment. Which, honestly, was a bit rude, to be honest. Jamie was an excellent host. Minus the whole ‘no food’ thing.

When Jamie emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, scrubbed and tired and ready to sleep, she stopped dead in her tracks. On the ground beside the bed, Dani was fluffing up some of the couch pillows in a makeshift mattress. She had changed into the same spare set of Jamie’s pajamas, and was now settling herself atop the cushions.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I thought -" Dani started to say, but she trailed off, her hands curling in the blanket she had drawn up her legs.

"Just -" Jamie sighed and went over to her usual side of the bed, where she pulled back the sheets. "Get in."

While Dani sat on the floor trying to make up her mind, Jamie waved off the holo feed and the lights. With a groan, Jamie clambered into bed, listening to the pop of her joints. She wasn’t exactly ancient, but maybe she was getting a little old to be scaling canopies hundreds of feet in the air for hours at a time. She might start training some of the new recruits in mass pruning tomorrow. Provided they didn’t display an alarming propensity for loss of limb when wielding a thermal saw.

Beside her, Jamie felt the mattress dip beneath a new weight. Dani slipped beneath the sheets and curled as close to the edge as she possibly could, far away from Jamie. Honestly that suited Jamie just fine. She wasn’t too keen on a cuddle, either. Grabbing a spare pillow, Jamie hooked it beneath her arm and rolled over. She wriggled deeper into the mattress and settled in for a kip.

Until the bed trembled slightly, that was.

Without opening her eyes, Jamie frowned. There was shuffling behind her, sounding like Dani was trying to wind herself into as tight a ball as possible. She was, Jamie realised, shivering. Jamie sighed. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. A quick trek across the apartment, and she returned with a spare blanket, which she threw over Dani without saying anything. Dani’s form went very still, and Jamie crawled back into her own side of the bed, punching her pillow into shape before resting her head upon it.

After a long moment of silence she could hear Dani’s soft voice through the night. “Thank you.”

—

She didn’t have the same dream again. Though she didn’t sleep well either. She wasn’t used to having another person in her bed. Especially when said person kept fidgeting and sighing and rolling over, unable to fall asleep.

And when Jamie did eventually sleep, the dreams were fragmented and red. They were shards of glass and metal in a clenched fist.

—

When Jamie stepped off the railspeeder the next morning, bright and early, she approached C-87 for her usual dietary supplement and stimcaf combo. The droid perked right up when it saw her coming.

“Jamie -”

“Mornin’,” Jamie said around a long yawn. “Don’t suppose you could make it a double shot today?”

“Jamie,” the droid said again in as serious a tone as it could muster.

“Yeah, that’s my name. What about it?”

In answer, C-87 swivelled its head around. With a frown she followed its gaze, and then she felt the blood drain from her face.

There at the end of the ramp stood Pillock One and Pillock Two. She didn’t need to see the Czerka logos on their kit to recognise them. Their backs were towards her and they were talking to Murr. Ithorians didn’t typically have what she would call expressive faces, but Murr’s large brown eyes were wide and he had retracted his neck like a turtle trying to hide in its shell.

“Shit,” Jamie swore and she ducked down behind C-87’s stall. Without question the droid reached up to adjust the canopy so that it hid her better. “Did they talk to you?”

“Negative,” C-87 replied. “They were questioning a few other AgriCorps members, and then they started speaking with Murr. I took the liberty of moving your swoop bike so that it was more easily accessible, should you require it.”

Shuffling around on her hands and knees, Jamie dared to peek around the edge of the stall. Sure enough, her swoop bike was within easy reach. Murr spotted her, his throat sack swelling up in surprise as he drew in a deep breath. Pillock One started to turn, but Murr pointed towards the treeline, where her swoop bike would’ve been parked had C-87 not moved it.

Pillock Two made a rude gesture towards Murr before setting off in the direction he had indicated. Pillock One followed after him, unholstering the very large blaster rifle slung across his back. When they’d gotten far enough away, Murr gestured sharply at Jamie in what was very clearly a shooing motion.

C-87’s head popped around the corner so abruptly that Jamie jumped with a curse. “I think you should take the next railspeeder back to Thani as soon as possible. Alternatively, you should drive your swoop bike,” the droid told her.

“Yeah, you think?”

“I have been thinking that for several minutes, in fact.”

“It’s just an expression,” Jamie sighed. “We’ll work on your sarcasm module some more next time, all right?”

“Very well, Jamie.”

She didn’t wait to see if Pillock One and Pillock Two were heading further into the forest. She jumped on the back of her swoop bike, started it up, and sped off towards the next railspeeder station. There was no way a short-distance bike like this could make it all the way back to Thani in good time. She had to wait at the next station along the grid, anxiously tugging at her boilersuit zipper, wishing she had a hood or something to hide herself even a little bit. The swoop bike she simply abandoned at the station, jumping onto the next rail service with the sort of pent up jitters that had her half vibrating out of her skin.

It was perhaps the longest two hours or so of her life. In recent memory, anyway. She spent the whole time folded up in a back seat in the rail car, trying to make herself seem inconspicuous. When a random ticket officer droid trundled by, requesting to see her ticket credentials, she fumbled with the laminated pass so badly that she nearly dropped it. And when the railspeeder finally pulled into her station, she bolted out as quickly as she could without drawing too much attention.

Back at the apartment, Jamie burst through the front door. Dani, who had been flicking through the holo feed from the bed, started with a yelp.

“You scared me,” Dani gasped, hand over her still heaving chest.

“Change of plans,” Jamie said. She rushed across the apartment, grabbed a rucksack from beneath her bed and started to shove clothes into it at random. “We’re leaving.”

“What? Now?”

“Yes. Now.”

For all the confusion on her face, Dani jumped to her feet and began gathering what little items she’d brought with her. “What happened?”

“Czerka.”

Dani’s eyes widened and she dropped her nanosilk cloak to the ground. “They know where I am?” she asked, swooping down to snatch up the cloak.

“Yes,” said Jamie. Then, “No. Maybe. They know where I am now, anyway. Showed up at work, and — Look. We have history, all right?”

“What kind of history?”

Jamie darted into the bathroom to gather up a few necessary toiletries for the trip. Dani followed, watching her from the doorway.

“Jamie,” said Dani, voice sounding both stern and worried all at once. “What kind of history?”

“I know their leader. Peter fucking Quint. I may have -” Jamie opened the mirror cabinet and just pushed a few rows of stuff into the open bag in her hand. “- gotten his arm chopped off at one point.”

“You what?”

“It was his own fucking fault!” Jamie hissed. “I just helped! A little! And he’s still, y’know -” She zipped up the bag and shrugged. “- sore about it. Some people just hold a grudge.”

“Oh, sure. Can’t imagine why he’d do that,” Dani said, and Jamie didn’t have to look at her to hear the roll of her eyes.

Jamie turned around and stomped past her from the bathroom. “At least he’s still alive. Which is a hell of a lot better than what you’ve accomplished.”

Dani glowered at her, still leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed.

“Do you want to wait around until Czerka finds us?” Jamie asked, pointing towards the front door. “Because they’re on their way.”

With a huff, Dani relented. She grabbed up her small bag and clipped the lightsaber to the belt at her waist. “No. I don’t.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

#the haunting of bly manor #thobm #star wars #dani clayton/jamie #damie #no great revelation #I know too much star wars shit don't @ me #roman writes

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justalittletomato · 3 years

Note

Does any of the Terror Brigade ever run into Sidious or Vader? If so, how would that have gone?

anon...the moment I read this...the image that appeared was awful. and sadly now I must share it with you. I suggest you don't read this if you arent ready for pain.

TW for DEATH

The brigade should have returned by now, Maul and Savage check every comm channel only to receive radio silence...

Something isn't right.

The youngest of the children had remained the 5 year old, Danica, Maul’s smallest Star and 14-year-old Feral who had recently recovered from a terrible bout of sickness. Something is wrong.....

It comes to them with a broadcast, an important discovery made by Emperial efforts

The Zabraks, the two youngest children along with Starlight and Angel watch as it unfolds.

The brigade, all 4 of them stand shackled. Thier heads bowed as the Emperor announces the great injustice before the galaxy.

“As we all recall force-sensitive children must be reported and turned over to Imperial authorities in order to best help them harness thier abilities before you are 4 such children.”

Angel is sobbing, terrible sobs that cause her to collapse to her knees.

Starlight is screaming already they know what’s about to happen, she tries to silence them only to scream and scream again.

“ Sadly these 4 have been left astray for too long. They will be unable to control the powers within them, it is with a heavy heart that these 4 must be terminated.”

Maul lets out a choked cry. Savage howls in anguish. Thier children...Cress...Aster...Eris...Ares...all about to die.

“As they are siblings it is a risk that they may pass on this ability,” Ares is going to die as well...

Danica sobs and Feral holds her tight, he won’t let her see.

“We do not wish to harm them further than fate has already done, each of them will be given a painless death. Let this be a warning,”

Eris is the first to collapse and Angel screams as her eldest child falls unmoving to the ground. Savage holds her, he is dying oh he has to be dying...this ache must be death as his bonds to them are shattered...Ares is next he falls to his knees and collapses forward next to Eris just as he did as a baby, both parents screaming and begging for anyone to help them.

They are just children! Their little children! Thier sunflowers have wilted...never again to bloom.

Aster looks up and screams, “ WE ARE NOT MONSTERS! WE ARE PART OF THE GALAXY OUR EXIS-” a red blade appears through her chest, Aster’s eyes full of tears as her hearts stop. She falls forward. Maul wails as his bond with her is broken as does Cress. Nothing in his life has compared to the pain in his soul.

Her brother screams alongside his parents so far away. Cress is crying and screaming for his fallen brother and sisters and cries out for his parents, oh but they don't kill him with the blade. Oh no, it takes 5 more minutes and the poor boy just keeps sobbing and begging to go home. He just wants to go home.

“You will soon, child.” Cress gasps as his hearts stop, Maul screams as he falls. Starlight grips her middle as part of her soul dies. Angel lays on the floor whimpering for her lost children and Savage is still begging for someone to help.

Maul cant stop screaming he will die if he stops, what if he’s already dead? He looks about him as they wish they were...waiting for children who will never return

Danica holds tight to Feral, “Are they coming home?”

Feral has tears down his face, “ Oh Dani...” he sobs, “Dani they can’t. They can’t come back” his hearts are broken as his bonds.

The last two children hold another tight. From 6 to 2...all in a span of 30 minutes.

The flowers have wilted and the stars have burned out....and all that remains is little more than dust.

HOWEVER, I AM NEVER GOING TO DO THIS AS THIS IS THE ONLY OUTCOME SO THEY NEVER MEET THIS FATE. I AM CRYING!!!!!

#dad!maul #dad!savage #terror brigade #tw death #anonasks #this one was a doozy #maul

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agentrouka-blog · 4 years

Text

Sweet Lady - a Sansa key phrase

The wonderful @esther-dot was so kind as to introduce me to the precious resource that is asearchoficeandfire.com and I have been down a rabbit hole ever since. Or more so than usual. (As far as quarantine with toddlers and work, both, allow me, anyway.) It's marvelous for letting you do unfocused word combinations, which really does wonders for finding text parallels and such. But that is a post for another day.

It did inspire me to search all my book files for an exact phrase, though. "Sweet Lady". It doesn't count all the other instances for sweet, lady, my sweet, sweet queen, sweet XYZ, sweetling or what have you. We already know that "sweet" can be a code for falseness. So I didn't want to confuse the issue. Only the exact phrase. "Sweet Lady". It's enlightening.

There are 23 instances in all 5 books, the TWOW sample chapters and all the other searchable publications. They appear as follows:

Sansa: 9 (3 x Joffrey, 1 x Ser Loras, 4 x Dontos ("Florian"), 1 x Marillion)

Catelyn: 5 times (3 x Varys, 2 x Petyr Baelish)

Jonquil: 1 (Florian the Fool, "The Hedge Knight")

Lysa: 2 (1 x Morton Waynwood, 1 x Marillion)

Shae: 2 (1 x Varys, 1 x Symon Silver Tongue, ironic)

A mare: 1 (Jon, soothing a mare, about to betray the Watch)

Daenerys: 1 (Hizdahr, her "loyal" husband)

Asha: 1 (Quarl the maid, murky lover)

Lady Taena Merryweather: 1 (sneaked in, traitorous lover to Cersei - Everything there a big spotlight for Political!Jon and such, btw.)

To make it short, the phrase is a direct reference to Sansa. 9 direct references, 10 if you account for the fact that Sansa = Jonquil. (22 Jonquil mentions in all searchable publications, only 5 are not in Sansa's chapters: Jaime referencing the song or the puppetry in The Hedge Knight. Sansa is Jonquil. Case closed.) The rest of the usage concerns foils, mirrors or other characters deeply connected to her. It's a spotlight for Sansa.

In most instances, it is a marker for erroneous or "false" knights (Dontos, Florian, Loras, Waynwood), or "false" Ladies (Shae,Taena Merryweather, Alayne), immoral singers (Symon, Marillion), rape (Marillion), Rescue (Sansa/Alayne and Tanselle), political scheming (Cat, Varys, Littlefinger, Lady Merryweather and Cersei) and betrayal (ALL of them, save the true Florian and Jonquil). Also, curiously, the injury of hands. (Symon, Marillion, Catelyn, Jon, Tanselle the Jonquil puppeteer).

So now that we do know that when the phrase shows up, it's a marker for Sansa and that what surrounds it concerns Sansa, let's look at when it's used to see if we recognize anything or if it reminds us of anything. (This is where the rabbit hole comes in because there's a jumping off point for more references in almost every example.

First Mention: Sansa I, AGOT

“Leave her alone,” Joffrey said. He stood over her, beautiful in blue wool and black leather, his golden curls shining in the sun like a crown. He gave her his hand, drew her to her feet. “What is it, sweet lady? Why are you afraid? No one will hurt you. Put away your swords, all of you. The wolf is her little pet (!), that’s all.” He looked at Sandor Clegane. “And you, dog, away with you, you’re scaring my betrothed.”

The Hound, ever faithful, bowed and slid away quietly through the press. Sansa struggled to steady herself. She felt like such a fool. She was a Stark of Winterfell, a noble lady, and someday she would be a queen. “It was not him, my sweet prince,” she tried to explain. “It was the other one.”

The two stranger knights exchanged a look. “Payne?” chuckled the young man in the green armor. The older man in white spoke to Sansa gently. “Ofttimes Ser Ilyn frightens me as well, sweet lady. He has a fearsome aspect.”

Payne, the mute. Who else is mute? Ghost. A fearsome wolf pet. Where have we heard the word "pet" before… Oh, Right. ASOS.

“The good woman at the brazier,” Mance Rayder went on, “is Dalla.” The pregnant woman smiled shyly. “Treat her like you would any queen, she is carrying my child.” He turned to the last two. “This beauty is her sister Val. Young Jarl beside her is her latest pet.”

“I am no man’s pet,” said Jarl, dark and fierce.

“And Val’s no man,” white-bearded Tormund snorted. “You ought to have noticed that by now, lad.”

Aaaand...

Jarl was with the Magnar; Mance had given them the joint command. Styr was none too pleased by that, Jon had noted early on. Mance Rayder had called the dark youth a “pet” of Val, who was sister to Dalla, his own queen, which made Jarl a sort of good brother once removed to the King-beyond-the-Wall.

And isn't that some precious phrasing. A "good brother" once, removed.

Contrast Dany, ADWD:

“What, o’ the queen’s little pets?” Brown Ben’s eyes crinkled in amusement. The grizzled captain of the Second Sons was a creature of the free companies, a mongrel with the blood of a dozen different peoples flowing through his veins, but he had always been fond of the dragons, and them of him.

“Pets?” screeched Reznak. “Monsters, rather. Monsters that feed on children. We cannot —”

“Silence,” said Daenerys. “We will not speak of that.”

So the Sweet Lady will have a pet wolf, literally and figuratively. *wink*

But on to other "Sweet Lady" instances. Two involving Catelyn:

AGOT, Catelyn:

“How could you know all that?”

“The whisperings of little birds,” Varys said, smiling. “I know things, sweet lady. That is the nature of my service.” He shrugged. “You do have the dagger with you, yes?”

Catelyn pulled it out from beneath her cloak and threw it down on the table in front of him. “Here. Perhaps your little birds will whisper the name of the man it belongs to.”

AGOT, Eddard:

Littlefinger smiled. “Leave Lord Varys to me, sweet lady. If you will permit me a small obscenity—and where better for it than here—I hold the man’s balls in the palm of my hand.” He cupped his fingers, smiling. “Or would, if he were a man, or had any balls. You see, if the pie is opened, the birds begin to sing, and Varys would not like that. Were I you, I would worry more about the Lannisters and less about the eunuch.”

We know who the Little Bird is (Sansa), so here we know our Sweet Lady will spill important Secrets to the vast dismay of some people.

Now for some sweetness in AGOT. Jon's foils Loras and Joffrey lay it on thick:

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

Awww. So sweet, so fake.

Instead Joffrey smiled and kissed her hand, handsome and gallant as any prince in the songs, and said, “Ser Loras has a keen eye for beauty, sweet lady.”

Actually, we know Jon IS a visual creature. (Natural landscapes, handsome Kingslayers, Radiant Sisters, lovely Val, etc etc etc.) But we digress.

The mare whickered softly as Jon Snow tightened the cinch. “Easy, sweet lady,” he said in a soft voice, quieting her with a touch. Wind whispered through the stable, a cold dead breath on his face, but Jon paid it no mind. He strapped his roll to the saddle, his scarred fingers stiff and clumsy. “Ghost,” he called softly, “to me.” And the wolf was there, eyes like embers.

Jon is probably the only one outside of Florian the actual puppet fool to use the phrase honestly. Jon of the fool references is Florian to Sansa's Jonquil. Brienne is the True Knight she prays for, the Galladon, but Jon is the Florian, the fool knight. Also, "The wolf was there." Jon and Ghost will be a calming, gentle, protective presence in Sansa's life. Also "mare" is an occasional marker for Sansa.

Now for something else:

ACOK, Tyrion:

Varys glanced at Shae. “My lord, must we trouble your sweet lady’s sleep with such grim and bloody talk?”

“A lady might be afraid,” said Shae, “but I’m not.”

(ASOS, Tyrion:)

“You shall rise again, I am sure. A man like you. My sweet lady Shae tells me you are newly wed. Would that you had sent for me earlier. I should have been honored to sing at your feast.”

“The last thing my wife needs is more songs,” said Tyrion. “As for Shae, we both know she is no lady, and I would thank you never to speak her name aloud.”

Which all seems to lead to:

(AFFC, Alayne)

Up here where the slope was steepest, the steps wound back and forth rather than plunging straight down. Sansa Stark went up the mountain, but Alayne Stone is coming down. It was a strange thought. Coming up, Mya had warned her to keep her eyes on the path ahead, she remembered. “Look up, not down,” she said … but that was not possible on the descent. I could close my eyes. The mule knows the way, he has no need of me. But that seemed more something Sansa would have done, that frightened girl. Alayne was an older woman, and bastard brave.

and...

“Unhand me. You forget yourself.”

“Mercy. I have been singing love songs for hours. My blood is stirred. And yours, I know … there’s no wench half so lusty as one bastard born. Are you wet for me?”

“I’m a maiden,” she protested.

“Truly? Oh, Alayne, Alayne, my fair maid, give me the gift of your innocence. You will thank the gods you did. I’ll have you singing louder than the Lady Lysa.”

Sansa jerked away from him, frightened. “If you don’t leave me, my au—my father will hang you. Lord Petyr.”

“Littlefinger?” He chuckled. “Lady Lysa loves me well, and I am Lord Robert’s favorite. If your father offends me, I will destroy him with a verse.” He put a hand on her breast, and squeezed. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes. You wouldn’t want them ripped, I know. Come, sweet lady, heed your heart—”

Sansa heard the soft sound of steel on leather. “Singer,” a rough voice said, “best go, if you want to sing again.” The light was dim, but she saw a faint glimmer of a blade.

The singer saw it too. “Find your own wench—” The knife flashed, and he cried out. “You cut me!”

“I’ll do worse, if you don’t go.” And quick as that, Marillion was gone.

There's a lot in this. There is yet another averted rape attempt, complete with rescue by a knight. (Lothor Brune.) Then, we have the implication that Sansa's virtue will be compromised ("Truly?" - Potentially by something horrible like on the show. The TWOW "Mercy" sample chapter is one big red flag.) and then we have the foreshadowing of Sansa losing her "innocence" by becoming a bad singer, a liar like Lysa, as we know she will when she lies about her death, or by "singing" loudly of secrets. Songs have the power to preserve and destroy, we learn, and Sansa will have to learn to weild that power benevolently. The fact that she is saved here, tells us that she will be "saved" from moral failure, as well.

Randomly, Marillion's Trial in AFFC:

“If I had eyes I should weep.” The singer’s voice, so strong and sure by night, was cracked and whispery now. “I loved her so, I could not bear to see her in another’s arms, to know she shared his bed. I meant no harm to my sweet lady, I swear it. I barred the door so no one could disturb us whilst I declared my passion, but Lady Lysa was so cold … when she told that she was carrying Lord Petyr’s child, a … a madness seized me …”

It may mean something, or it may not. But Sansa has a lot of bastard foreshadowing. Other characters have "madness" foreshadowing. And a history of miscarriages.

For something darker:

ADWD, The Wayward Bride (Asha)

A shy smile, strong arms, clever fingers, and two sure swords. What more could any woman want? She would have married Qarl, and gladly, but she was Lord Balon’s daughter and he was common-born, the grandson of a thrall. Too lowborn for me to wed, but not too low for me to suck his cock. Drunk, smiling, she crawled beneath the furs and took him in her mouth. Qarl stirred in his sleep, and after a moment he began to stiffen. By the time she had him hard again, he was awake and she was wet. Asha draped the furs across her bare shoulders and mounted him, drawing him so deep inside her that she could not tell who had the cock and who the cunt. This time the two of them reached their peak together.

“My sweet lady,” he murmured after, in a voice still thick with sleep. “My sweet queen.”

No, Asha thought, I am no queen, nor shall I ever be. “Go back to sleep.” She kissed his cheek, padded across Galbart Glover’s bedchamber, and threw the shutters open. The moon was almost full, the night so clear that she could see the mountains, their peaks crowned with snow. Cold and bleak and inhospitable, but beautiful in the moonlight.

Their summits glimmered pale and jagged as a row of sharpened teeth. The foothills and the smaller peaks were lost in shadow.

At first glance this could be sweet-ish, but the surrounding imagery is kind of sinister and I get reminded of two other things:

Lysa describing her rape of Petyr (Sansa, ASOS):

...and Petyr tried to kiss your mother, only she pushed him away. She laughed at him. He looked so wounded I thought my heart would burst, and afterward he drank until he passed out at the table. (…) That was the night I stole up to his bed to give him comfort. I bled, but it was the sweetest hurt. He told me he loved me then, but he called me Cat, just before he fell back to sleep. Even so, I stayed with him until the sky began to lighten.

And Cersei's wedding night with Robert, (Eddard, AGOT)

Her eyes burned, green fire in the dusk, like the lioness that was her sigil. “The night of our wedding feast, the first time we shared a bed, he called me by your sister’s name. He was on top of me, in me, stinking of wine, and he whispered Lyanna.”

We already had a moment of deeply screwed up consent for Jon during his first time with Ygritte. Suddenly, the scene when Dany asks Jon if he's drunk on the show in 8x04 after the victory feast and then pushes him for sex seems even more sinister. Lysa's rape of Petyr ended in pregnancy. I hope I am wrong about this!

Lastly, this is from The Hedge Knight. "Florian and Jonquil" are being destroyed, i.e. Sansa's very favorite song is getting viciously attacked, her romantic dreams put to the torch. If my horrible suspicion is true, Sansa will live some aspect of her Ramsey storyline, if not with Ramsey, then with someone else. This following Scene festuring Duncan the fake knight and Tanselle, the tall girl playing Jonquil's puppet, however, is very reminiscent of Jon's final encounter with Ramsey. No?

The puppeteer's stall had been knocked on its side. The fat Dornishwoman was on the ground weeping.

One man-at-arms was dangling the puppets of Florian and Jonquil from his hands as another set them afire with a torch. Three more men were opening chests, spilling more puppets on the ground and stamping on them. The dragon puppet was scattered all about them, a broken wing here, its head there, its tail in three pieces. And in the midst of it all stood Prince Aerion, resplendent in a red velvet doublet with long dagged sleeves, twisting Tanselle's arm in both hands. She was on her knees, pleading with him. Aerion ignored her. He forced open her hand and seized one of her fingers. Dunk stood there stupidly, not quite believing what he saw. Then he heard a crack, and Tanselle screamed.

One of Aerion's men tried to grab him, and went flying. Three long strides, then Dunk grabbed the prince's shoulder and wrenched him around hard. His sword and dagger were forgotten, along with everything the old man had ever taught him. His fist knocked Aerion off his feet, and the toe of his boot slammed into the prince's belly. When Aerion went for his knife, Dunk stepped on his wrist and then kicked him again, right in the mouth. He might have kicked him to death right then and there, but the princeling's men swarmed over him.

So the wolf pet/lover will curbstomp her attacker in some way shape or form.

Damn. To cheer us, let's look at some Dontos/Florian from ACOK, Sansa:

“I will,” she said. “Tell me who sent you.”

“No one, sweet lady. I swear it on my honor as a knight.”

“A knight?” Joffrey had decreed that he was to be a knight no longer, only a fool, lower even than Moon Boy. “I prayed to the gods for a knight to come save me,” she said. “I prayed and prayed. Why would they send me a drunken old fool?”

“I deserve that, though . . . I know it’s queer, but . . . all those years I was a knight, I was truly a fool, and now that I am a fool I think . . . I think I may find it in me to be a knight again, sweet lady. And all because of you . . . your grace, your courage. You saved me, not only from Joffrey, but from myself.” His voice dropped. “The singers say there was another fool once who was the greatest knight of all . . .”

“Florian,” Sansa whispered. A shiver went through her.

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

Slowly, Sansa lowered the knife. Her head seemed terribly light, as if she were floating. This is madness, to trust myself to this drunkard, but if I turn away will the chance ever come again? “How . . . how would you do it? Get me away?”

Ser Dontos raised his face to her. “Taking you from the castle, that will be the hardest. Once you’re out, there are ships that would take you home. I’d need to find the coin and make the arrangements, that’s all.”

“Could we go now?” she asked, hardly daring to hope.

“This very night? No, my lady, I fear not. First I must find a sure way to get you from the castle when the hour is ripe. It will not be easy, nor quick. They watch me as well.” He licked his lips nervously. “Will you put away your blade?”

Sansa slipped the knife beneath her cloak. “Rise, ser.”

“Thank you, sweet lady.” Ser Dontos lurched clumsily to his feet, and brushed earth and leaves from his knees. “Your lord father was as true a man as the realm has ever known, but I stood by and let them slay him. I said nothing, did nothing . . . and yet, when Joffrey would have slain me, you spoke up. Lady, I have never been a hero, no Ryam Redwyne or Barristan the Bold. I’ve won no tourneys, no renown in war . . . but I was a knight once, and you have helped me remember what that meant. My life is a poor thing, but it is yours.” Ser Dontos placed a hand on the gnarled bole of the heart tree. He was shaking, she saw. “I vow, with your father’s gods as witness, that I shall send you home.”

He swore. A solemn oath, before the gods. “Then . . . I will put myself in your hands, ser. But how will I know, when it is time to go? Will you send me another note?”

Ser Dontos glanced about anxiously. “The risk is too great. You must come here, to the godswood. As often as you can. This is the safest place. The only safe place. Nowhere else. Not in your chambers nor mine nor on the steps nor in the yard, even if it seems we are alone. The stones have ears in the Red Keep, and only here may we talk freely.”

“Only here,” Sansa said. “I’ll remember.”

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

She nodded. “I understand.”

“You will need to be brave and strong . . . and patient, patient above all.”

“I will be,” she promised, “but . . . please . . . make it as soon as you can. I’m afraid . . .”

“So am I,” Ser Dontos said, smiling wanly. “And now you must go, before you are missed.”

“You will not come with me?”

“Better if we are never seen together.”

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

And just to add some sweet speculation…

Jon, ASOS:

If I could show her Winterfell … give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us.

I'm such a hopeful fool for these two.

#Jonsa #asoiaf #asoiaf speculation #jon snow #sansa stark

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bettsfic · 5 years

Text

nobody asked but here’s how i would have ended it

i’ve been thinking about this for the past 12 hours, how one of the many major failings of the finale was that everything happened out of order, and the stakes were distorted. the entire point of the series is that the night king is the biggest threat, and the politics of the throne seem petty by comparison. to defeat the night king and then battle for the throne is completely illogical. so here’s my attempt to put the events in order and pare down the conflict so that it’s manageable to accomplish in 6 episodes.

first i have to retcon a few things:

euron greyjoy either doesn’t exist or isn’t involved

jaime doesn’t leave for winterfell at the end of s7 (but he is strongly conflicted about it)

cersei isn’t pregnant

jon isn’t aegon targaryen (because, again, the entire point of his arc is that a bastard is valid)

bran’s greensight has some value that is an actual threat to the night king, other than being like a dumb hub of all human knowledge

EPISODE 1

the season starts in king’s landing. the march north has yet to begin (fixing the continuity errors of the back and forth on the kingsroad this season).

dany gears up to take the iron throne from cersei. jon pleads with her to march north instead, but she refuses, so he leaves for winterfell with brienne, sansa, et al to begin gearing up for battle with the wildlings and anyone else who can pick up a sword, even though it is a lost cause.

cersei uses the commonfolk as bait for dany, knowing her weakness is mercy. jaime, believing dany is capable of going mad queen, tells her all the people will die, etc. how could she do this, and it’s the last straw. brienne’s “fuck loyalty” finally lands. his allegiance to cersei is broken, though he makes no indication of it (i believe in nikolaj to be able to convey this without needing any major declaration of it).

melisandre shows up and does some mysterious magic stuff and tells dany a creepy riddle that basically goes, if one of your dragons falls, it will call upon something something, and dany is just ?? lol k.

EPISODE 2

jaime seeks out tyrion to tell him the major deets of cersei’s plan. he gets caught and held prisoner. tyrion finds him, lets him go, and urges him to convince cersei to surrender.

missandei gives her two cents -- you only need to defeat the queen, not the people. dany gives her “they don’t love me, they fear me” speech and missandei says like, but they will love you. they’ll love you because you’re good. and then there’s some exchange about like, dany realizing no one can be good if they hold all the power. power corrupts, and the idea of the throne has corrupted her. missandei says that dany doesn’t need a throne to lead. she’s already a queen, and always will be.

meanwhile in winterfell, jon is rallying forces to defeat the night king, and working with his siblings (sans arya, who has gone south to king’s landing with the hound) to make a plan.

tyrion then begs dany not to kill everyone if they surrender, bell ringing, etc. the battle happens as it did in canon, except jon isn’t there. without the iron fleet it’s less of a big deal. cersei still believes her armies will prevail. the civilians are still running around trying to find safety, which makes everything chaotic. cersei’s armies (which have elephants!!) are making good headway. things look pretty bleak.

jaime finds cersei and urges her to surrender, believing that dany will kill all the people. cersei refuses, because she’s winning. they have pre-victory sex, but to jaime, it’s sad goodbye sex.

rhaegal gets speared and falls. more battle stuff happens, well into the night and reaching morning (but we can SEE shit because the lighting is GOOD). dany is stricken with grief. then! an ARMY of DRAGONS flies in from the west. they circle king’s landing. everyone is going totally batshit with fear and awe. the bells ring. empowered and angry, dany really wants to murder everyone. cliffhanger.

EPISODE 3

dany makes her choice not to kill everyone. she flies to the red keep and has a confrontation with cersei in the throne room. dany gives cersei the opportunity to bend the knee and join forces so that together, their armies can march north and defeat the night king. cersei refuses. dany threatens to take down the entire red keep. jaime is at his queen’s side, knowing what he has to do, not sure if he’s truly willing to do it.

the hound and arya make it to the red keep. arya agrees to separate and borrow some faces to make her way past the guards, and let the hound in from there.

in winterfell, bran offers himself as bait to the night king. it’s a shitty plan, but the only chance they’ve got.

the mountain moves to attack dany. drogon, perched outside, screeches a warning. the hound intervenes and attacks the mountain. arya attacks cersei, but jaime intervenes and fights arya. dany hops on drogon and starts burning down the red keep. we hear many dragon war cries of support, lots of screaming, the bells. everything is collapsing and on fire. while fighting, jaime tells cersei to retreat and find safety. cersei is finally afraid, but still somehow believes she’ll win.

the hound isn’t doing so well with the mountain. arya, seeing that cersei has had basically all her power stripped away, gives up her fight with jaime reluctantly and helps the hound.

jaime, alone now with cersei, offers his final plea -- if they leave now, they can escape, and go make a new life together. cersei, for the last time, says she will not leave the throne. jaime kisses her and stabs her (like the scene with jon and dany, but not that), a mirror of killing the mad king.

the hound is holding the mountain at bay. arya sets him on fire. the hound cuts off his head. together, they make it out of the red keep just in time to watch it fall. they help the civilians to safety.

dany, seeing cersei dead and jaime huddled over her dead body on the throne (the same position he was in after he killed the mad king), ceases fire, and rescues jaime from the falling keep.

the next morning, dany, tyrion, jorah, varys, missandei, and grey worm approach the iron throne. the remaining unsullied and dothraki are lined up behind her. the remaining lannister army soldiers are being held prisoner.

dany gives a speech about marching north. she offers the lannister army an opportunity to redeem themselves by marching with her. they agree.

she approaches the throne, says her little speech about not being able to count to twenty, makes a comment about how it’s not as grand as she thought it would be. we truly believe she has ascended beyond the plight of a petty throne. dozens of dragons are whirling overhead. finally she says something about the throne being a symbol of tyranny, and how she’ll break the wheel. then she commands drogon to destroy it.

drogon melts the throne.

EPISODE 4

jaime marches alone to winterfell ahead of the armies. he arrives and sees bran waiting for him. he feels unworthy to still be alive. he should have died with cersei.

he approaches sansa to tell her what happened. sansa questions his loyalty, if he was willing to kill his sister, why should he be able to fight for them? brienne steps up and defends him, but she’s obviously very worried -- he looks half-dead.

while waiting for the armies, there is lots of braime time. brienne tells him he did the right thing. jaime asks to fight under her, and she agrees. he heals very slowly by the comfort of brienne, though it is apparent he is still planning to die in battle.

theon and yara arrive with the iron fleet and offer to fight for sansa.

the wildlings find the carnage the wights have wrought and arrive in winterfell to say they have only a few days before the battle comes to them.

dany arrives in winterfell with all of the armies. jon is relieved that dany didn’t go mad queen. sansa is still skeptical, and doesn’t want the north under dany’s reign.

the rest of the ep is spent preparing for battle. the hound and arya arrive in winterfell. arya makes a teasing comment to the hound about how she’s grown tired of his company, and seeks out jon to have their reunion. then she looks for gendry and asks for a special blade.

that night, jaime knights brienne. arya fucks gendry. sansa and theon get caught up. jon and dany bang it out.

we see the wights marching closer.

EPISODE 5

the battle arrives, and happens pretty much as it does in canon, except BRIGHTER. the dragons cause a lot of damage.

at one point, jaime is outnumbered, and it looks very much like he might die. we see him give up and drop his sword, but brienne throws them all off and tells him he doesn’t get to die today.

everything is the same, except jon leaves to face the night king. he arrives alone, theon already dead. there’s a big battle and he’s totally outnumbered. then arya sneaks up while the night king is distracted by jon and kills the night king the same way she did in canon.

the wights fall. victory!!

EPISODE 6

nearly everything that happened in episode 4, re: pyres and celebration, except when dany offers gendry lordship, he declines it, knowing arya would never want that life

braime goes canon but like, better. jaime says he should have died, brienne should have let him die. brienne says she’s glad he didn’t. it’s as close as she can get to a confession of feelings.

dany, realizing how loved jon is, offers jon a partnership, to lead the seven kingdoms together. jon declines, and explains that he’s never been able to choose his own destiny, but now he can, and he has a lot of thinking to do. dany respects his decision.

sansa wants the north to secede from the seven kingdoms. dany is enraged by this, and threatens to tear down winterfell. jon says that if dany does that, he will die with winterfell.

dany reluctantly accepts the secession, but threatens to one day return to winterfell and claim it. it is acknowledged that there may be a future war between the six kingdoms and the north.

sansa allows jaime to stay in winterfell. dany punishes tyrion for treason by forcing him to remain hand of the queen.

sansa is crowned queen of the north. bran is given hand of the queen. arya, gendry, jon, the hound, and ghost lead the wildlings back through the wall.

dany is crowned queen of the six kingdoms, and vows, with the help of her new council, to listen to her people and come up with a better system of rule.

i know it’s not perfect! dany being crowned queen still offers a kind of “the ends always justify the means” theme that i don’t really like, as well as the idea of royal lineage, and if i had the entire series to myself, i would have made it so that her aspirations for “liberation” were more true, and that, once she got into power, she immediately disseminated it. but also there are a lot of foundational problems with the entire premise that i can’t really fix in one season. also there are really too many characters to manage, and i may have still had dany kill more people to show her ruthlessness, but this is loosely how i would have approached a tighter ending.

#got spoilers #my fic

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chid-sen-gan-blog · 5 years

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My Reaction to GoT 8.03 (”The Long Night”)

Hello! I’m back for another recap/review!

I’m so sorry this took so long, but I was a bit… uninspired. But it’s here now, and I hope you enjoy!

Once again, featuring running commentary from my Dad and Brother because I love them and their witty remarks. (all thoughts and quotes are from our first time viewing it, per usual)

WARNING: Spoilers for anyone who hasn’t seen the episode yet, though this warning might be irrelevant at this point.

WARNING 2: My family and I (namely me) weren’t really fans of this episode, so things get… pretty snarky at some points. Also, there’s a lot of shade - no pun intended - thrown at the lighting throughout. A lot. All these are just the opinions of three people, however, and not meant to offend anyone. If you enjoyed the episode, then lucky you more power to you - you do you! :)

And last, but certainly not least, a huge thank you to everyone who supported the first two installments! Now, time for part three!

So… the new opening credits still haven’t grown on me. But the inclusion of the crypt for this episode is a nice touch

(I have a sinking feeling that taking refuge in the crypts is going to backfire for those hiding there and really hope I’m wrong)

Yay! Sam! Please don’t die on me. Please…

Pre-battle preparation montages always puts me on edge. Now is no exception

Another Alys Karstark shot and I’m still not sure why the crew keeps including them…

“So, the showrunners keep giving us glimpses of Alys Karstark, but do they actually plan on doing anything with her, or…?” - My Wonderful Brother; so I guess I’m not the only one curious

“With D&D at the reigns, she could be there for anything from the kidnap theory to a faceless man revival.” - My Wonderful Dad

“True. Let’s hope they get their story right right tonight, though.” - My Wonderful Brother

“I don’t see how they couldn’t. They already have all the pieces in place. All they need to do is not try anything random.” - My Wonderful Dad

Awwww. My children! D&D, don’t you dare kill off Jaime, Brienne, or Pod. I will find you if you do!!! And no CGI dragons will be able to save you!

(I’m super worried about Pod. He’s right up there at the top of my list with Theon and Grey Worm. And possibly Jorah, but I’m 50/50 with him)

(Maybe 60/40; if Dark!Dany’s a possibility, she needs to suffer a huge loss in this battle. And considering Jorah’s her morality pet/conscience, he would fit the bill)

(basically if Jorah dies this episode, then my confidence in the show going the Dark!Dany route rises)

Tormund! I’m guessing you’ll live. The writers need some fan favorite B characters to make it through the night…

Ooh, Beric. Yeah… you’re probably not one of them…

And the Hound will be needed for Cleganebowl, so he’s safe. No way they’re writing off the guy with all the hype surrounding him and his bro’s one-on-one

Actually, he’s one of the few people I’m absolutely sure will live past this episode

Gendry… 50/50 on you, too, sadly. I hope you make it, though

Darn it, knowing I’m never going to see some of these characters again is making me emotional. And it’s not even ten minutes into the episode!!!

Awwww. Poor Edd. You’re definitely a goner, since you essentially doomed yourself last week

Aaaaaaaand now I”m tearing up. Darn it!!! It’s too early to cry!

My new mantra: Please let Sam live

Wow, that shot is… dark. I wouldn’t have known those were horses if not for the whinnying

GHOST!!! Are we going to see him fight this episode? Because Im so here for it!

My wonderful Dad and Brother are just as pumped to see him as I am. Bless them

“But, seriously, why is Ghost with Jorah and the Dothraki and not with the Northerners in the crypts? Wouldn’t that be more practical” - My Wonderful Brother; taking time from his celebration to ask the tough questions

And here’s Dany to ruin my mood. Absolutely spectacular

“So, do you think she’ll abandon Jon and co during the battle?” - My Wonderful Dad

“Nope, she still wants the North to see her as their hero. It’s more likely she’ll rush in at some point and ruin the plan.” - My Wonderful Brother

Sansa!!! Arya!!!

Hey, remember when Dany stans said that Sansa’s S8 hairstyle was based on their kween’s? Good times, good times

Oooooh. A rider in the night? But who? The gang’s all here, except for Cersei and Euron

Is it Bronn? Kind of bad timing if it is…

No, wait, Carice von Houten was in the credits. It’s Melisandre, isn’t it?

They’re zooming in on Davos, it must be…

Yep.

“So, let’s none of us question why she’s here or how she got around the undead army marching on the North. Deal?” - My Wonderful Dad

“Deal.” - My Wonderful Brother and Less Wonderful I

And, once again, everything’s super dark, even for this show. Is it supposed to be intentional, or…?

I love how Jorah’s like: “I don’t know who the heck you are or what you want or why you’re here, but sure I’ll do what you ask, weird pretty red lady”

FINALLY!!! LIGHT!!! Thank you, Melisandre!

I’ll admit, that was a beautiful shot

I have a real affinity for how Liam Cunningham portrays an angry Davos. I’m not really sure why, but I do

Okay, so Melisandre’s going to die before the dawn. Why do I feel somewhat emotional about it?

(I’m still not over Shireen, so I really have no clue)

Ooooh, that look shared between Melisandre or Arya. Is Arya going to kill her? Maybe because of what happened to Gendry?

Ummmmmm…. Dothraki. What are you doing?

Seriously, what are you guys doing?

Don’t tell me these knuckleheads are actually charging at an enemy they can’t even see…

Oh, shoot. That’s exactly what they’re doing.

………… and now were’s firing the catapults. Umm, hello, don’t we kind of need our supplies for later?! What are you dimwits doing?!?!

No, really, this is idiotic. Why are they lighting things up and charging all gleefully like it’s a 4th of July cookout?!?!

“No, Ghost. Turn around. You’re too smart for this.” - My Wonderful Dad

Well lookie there. The Dothraki charged right into the army of the dead. Who could’ve possibly predicted that? *sarcasm, sarcasm*

“And just like that, the Night King’s added tens of thousands more soldiers to his army. Everyone say “thank you, Dany” for bringing your men who apparently have zero impulse control.” - My Wonderful Brother

“So this is why God didn’t give cavemen fire.” - My Wonderful Dad

You just know that Jaime’s watching this display thinking “why did my men have such a hard time fighting those guys again?”

Aaaaaand the screen’s nearly pitch black again. Dandy

Oh, look, slow-mo Jorah. At least I think it is. It’s kind of hard to tell…

Ugh. Dany. I’m not in the mood for you

Wow, astounding. She’s not going to stick to the plan. I’m sure this will work out just fine

“Told ya’.” - My Wonderful Brother

Nothing screams true love quite like yanking your arm out of your boyfriend’s grasp and snapping at him.

(Anyone else ever get CerseixJaime vibes from these two? And I’m not just talking about the incest…)

Grey Worm putting on his helmet is somehow one of the best parts in this episode so far. And I don’t think that’s a good thing

But still, it’s too early to judge, so I’ll shut up

Why hello, Army of the Dead. How was that 4th of July cookout the Dothraki ran into?

And now it’s time for my favorite game - count the fallen red shirts! Let’s see… 1, 2, oh, there’s a third…

And there’s one red shirt who just realized his name’s never been said on the show and booked. I respect his genre-savyness

Meanwhile, back with the important characters…

No!!! Brienne!!! No!!!

Jaime’s “wench sense” prevails again. That’s my boy

Dany’s “ruin-my-mood sense” is also as strong as ever, apparently

Well, at least the dragonfire shone some light on things

Sansa looking awed at Jon on a dragon is so far one of the best shots in the episode

I will forever hate Jonerys, but Ramin Djawadi always knocks it out of the park with his score - even with their theme.

I wonder if he’ll have anything new to present for this episode…

Jon’s gotten a lot better at riding Rhaegal. That could be very useful in upcoming conflicts… *grins wickedly*

Lovely, now Jon’s stuck in a snowstorm. *sighs* Really, I give him one compliment…

“I just hope that Dany remembers she has to light the trench and doesn’t follow him in.” - My Wonderful Dad

“You’re asking for way too much, Daddy.” - My Wonderful Brother

Aw, Sansa. I’m so proud of you. And this is why I love the Starks - no matter the dangers they face, they’re loyal to their people first and foremost

… Arya, no offense, but your sister’s not much of a fighter. Don’t you think you should give her more than just one tiny dragonglass blade?

Ah, callbacks. But, seriously, give Sansa another weapon

Seeing Jaime, Brienne, and Pod together in any capacity gives me all the feels. All of them. Even when they’re fighting literal zombies

And now Dany’s also lost in the snowstorm. Well, on the bright side, at least she didn’t fly directly into it

Theon!……… yeah, you’re a dead man. I’ll sincerely miss you

And we’re back to the battle. That was… interesting editing

16 red shirts… 17 red shirts… 18 red shirts…

So it’s twenty minutes in and no named characters have died yet. I’m surprised…

And there goes Edd. *cries* Why did I think I was safe?!?! Why?!?!?!?!?!

So that’s one death I guessed. I wonder who else…

Okay, is it even possible for Sophie Turner to look anything but beautiful? I mean, even with this episode’s lighting…

I forgot Tyrion was alive Oops

Still have a sinking suspicion the crypts are going to be overrun with wights…

I honestly admire how calm Tyrion is. If my brother was out fighting an army of undead popsicles, you could bet I would be anything but

Jon and Dany bumping into eachother on dragonback is really making me smile. Even though I know it wasn’t intentional this time

If Jorah doesn’t die, Lyanna Mormont will. I’m calling it now

Grey Worm is so far the MVP of this battle. Now I’m really worried about his survival odds…

Soooooooo… are the dragons just going to be lost in this snowstorm the entire episodes? I mean, they have to play a bigger part than that, right?

(if they don’t then Jon really went through some serious guff for nothing)

Jon calling Dany by her nickname again despite knowing she doesn’t like it gives me life. So what if I’m petty?

And back with Theon and Bran after… nothing really happened

“Is it just me, or does the editing this episode feel a little… off?” - My Wonderful Brother

“Not just you. It has been so far. Strange, considering that’s usually one of D&D’s strong points.” - My Wonderful Dad

Aaaaaaand back to the battle after nothing really happened

“….. really?” - My Wonderful Brother

Brienne checking on Pod is what I live for. Honestly, I’m so far more interested in my J-B-P Family Trio than the actual battle

(Though I don’t think I’m supposed to be)

And the lighting is pitch black again. Huzzah

Unsullied don’t feel fear, huh? Welp, Grey Worm’s quickly realizing that most Unsullied don’t usually fight dead men

Really, though, this scene is on-point. Kudos to everyone involved

And now Dany can’t see the signal to light the trench. Yippee…

“YOU HAD ONE JOB, DAENERYS!!! ONE!!!” - My Wonderful Dad

On another note, I think I finally figured out why Melisandre conveniently strolled back into the picture when she did

And there we go

You know, everything has played out so predictably thus far that I feel like D&D are going to pull a huge, random move at some point

One that likely won’t make any sense, knowing them

Oh, I hope that’s not the case

Alright, that shot when Melisandre finally light up the trench is beautiful. I must admit

…………………………………………………………………………. wait, so Jon was just chilling right next to the trench when he could’ve lit it up this whole time?!?!?!?!

Ugh. So far he’s been utterly useless this battle. I mean, I love the guy, but really?

Please tell me they’re just saving his potential for when he fights the Night King. Or, even better, fights him so Bran can take him down

(D&D wouldn’t honestly butcher my boy like this without a reason, right?)

Oh, great. I forgot the Hound has PTSD when it comes to fire. This should be interesting. With any luck, he’ll overcome his fear this episode

Back in the crypts which are still somehow safe

And it’s times like these, when Tyrion touts his own greatness, that I remember he’s much more like Tywin than I’d care to acknowledge

Yes, Tyrion. You would make all the difference out there in the battle. When not even your swordsman brother should, logically-speaking, be near it, given his one hand situation. But, sure. You keep on thinking that.

Sansa laying some truth down. I stan

I really do enjoy her and Tyrion’s chemistry. And it’s actually nice to take a bit of a break from the battle

Oh, look at that. Sansa and Dany aren’t besties after their talk last episode after all. Odd, I could’ve sworn some stans said they were

One of which was, apparently, Missandei

Gee, I love you, Missandei, but that comment was totally uncalled for. They weren’t even talking to you

“And maybe if it weren’t for the dragon queen, the wall would still be standing and the dead wouldn’t even be here.” - My Wonderful Brother

“The girl didn’t even light the trench. Which was, again, her one job!” - My Wonderful Dad

*sighs* I really hate brainwashed Missandei. But I’m sure Dany’s stans will find a woman of color being blindly devoted to a white woman totally empowering

(And, before anyone bashes me, I’m speaking as someone who’s got the blood of all walks of minorities in my veins)

Ad back to Theon and Bran. Are they actually going to do something this time?

Oh, they are!

So, Bran’s “home” quote was said to Theon. Odd, and here I thought he was supposed to have said it to Dany… oh, well

Ooooh, warging Bran. With any luck, he’ll warg into a dragon at some point in this episode

I don’t even care anymore, just let the poor guy be useful in this battle somehow

So… when the army of animated corpses have better battle plans than your armies, exactly how screwed are you?

Jorah ushering Sam to the walls is actually really heartwarming

As is surrogate dad Jaime checking on his adopted son Pod en route to their battle stations

…… Jon has been sitting on the walls of Winterfell for who knows how long doing absolutely zilch. Not burning wights, not guarding Bran, not even brooding. And I’m ticked about it

What the heck, D&D? I thought you loved CGI dragon stuff

Well, finally. Yes, go fight the head popsicle, even if you don’t kill him. Go, my boy, and redeem yourself

The J-B-P Family Trio dynamic is my favorite thing in this episode thus far. Fight me

And Sam and Jorah. I want a spin-off named “Mormont and Tarly” with these two just hanging out

So, it’s almost halfway through the episode and only Edd has died out of the named characters. I have a feeling things are about to get bloody

Well, there goes another red shirt. What was I up to? 42?

No no no no no no no no. Bad wights. Not Jaime. Get off my problematic child! Get off him, darn you!!!

Brienne has “Kingslayer sense” confirmed

Who needs plot armor when you have your totally platonic not girlfriend watching your back?

My children fighting together… *tears up* I’m so proud…

And who needs plot armor when you have your totally platonic not boyfriend watching your back?

Jorah saving Sam with Heartsbane is all kinds of right. That is all

And the Hound is not making any sort of progress with his PTSD. I’m rooting for you, Sandor

Aaaaaaaaaaand…. I’m really tired of ninja!Arya already. I’m sorry. Unpopular opinion, I know, but it seems like the show’s going out of their way waaaay too much recently to make her seem all BAMF. I don’t know, call it personal preference, but I like it when there’s some vulnerability to a fighter

And maybe that hit to the head will take her down a peg. Knowing D&D, though… not likely

Oh, boy. The Hound’s really got it bad. I feel for him….

The fact he cares so much about Arya takes me back to S4, and I couldn’t be happier about it. Ah, the great seasons…

My wonderful Dad and Brother have taken to trying to adjust the brightness on our tv…to limited success. And this isn’t even the darkest the episode’s been…

Okay, I got over Lyanna Mormont in S7, but I have to say, she got the coolest death ever in the show by far. And I’m glad

Also, another predicted death. Makes me wonder about Jorah’s fate now…

So… the dragons above the clouds is a pretty shot and all, but are Jon and Dany just playing hide&seek with the Night King at this point, or…?

Oh, there’s the head popsicle!

(oh, if only fire could burn the unburnt…)

(speaking of which, how does Wightserion manage to breathe fire if he’s a wight and fire kind of kills them all over again? I’ve been wondering…)

“And after less than a minute of the dragons looking like they’d actually do something, we’ve now transitioned in to a game of tag, you’re it.” - My Wonderful Brother, getting fully annoyed with this episode

“At this point you could put Little Sam out in the field and he’d do more than the dragons.” - My Wonderful Dad, getting fully annoyed with this episode

And now Arya’s playing hide&seek with the wights. What is this, buy none get three day?

So… this scene is going to contribute something other than more bad lighting, right? Please say it is…

And nothing’s really happening…

And nothing…

Nothing….

Okay, so I have a feeling this is supposed to come off as a horror movie kind of thing, but it reads more like Tom&Jerry, imo

Wights have better hearing than me. I’m a little jealous

*shudders* Alright, the way that wight re-died (coining that term as of now) when Arya stabbed it was really gross. I tip my hat to the special effects and make-up team

Arya’s running like mad. And I’m happy she seems human again

(On another note, all this focus on Arya is really making me wonder what D&D are planning on doing with her. I can guess it’s something important…)

Too dark to see too dark to see too dark to see too dark to see…

I’m still surprised the crypts are safe. Maybe I’m wrong and they won’t be taken over by the dead after all

“This episode needs more Sansa. I said what I said.” - My Wonderful Brother

The Hound and Beric’s buddy cop adventures continue

Sweet move, Beric. We should enter you in javelin-throwing

Arya fighting just fine with a head wound. Even though I’m pretty sure she must have a concussion. Oh, what the heck, it’s a fantasy show

Beric sacrificing himself for Arya and the Hound in an honestly brilliant scene… that I could hardly see… -_-*

Beric dying to protect them also means that I was probably right before when I said Arya’s going to play an important role in this fight. Or the Hound

But my money’s on Arya. They’ll want a girl power shield in case their plans fall through

Really, the lighting on this episode looks like the contrast effect I add to my Sony Vegas-made AMVs before filtering the colors

So… Melisandre’s alone in this room surrounded by a bunch of doubly dead wights. Did she kill them all herself? Did she flambe them? I would really like to know

And blue eyes. Wait… no.

“They’re going to have Arya kill the Night King. That’s their big twist” - My Wonderful Brother

“But that wouldn’t make any sense. I mean, what about Bran? Doesn’t his whole story revolve around taking down the Night King?Didn’t Uncle Benjen say in no uncertain terms that without Bran they lose everything?” - Me

“Yep. But it’s still going to be Arya.” - My Wonderful Brother

“But what about Jon?! Doesn’t 90% of his arc center around facing this guy, too?! What about their stare down in “Hardhome”?” - Me

“Maybe Jon gets a crack at him, but it’s going to be Arya who finishes him off.” - My Wonderful Brother

“They wouldn’t!” - Me

“Remember Joffrey’s funeral scene in “Breaker of Chains” and how they changed it?” - My Wonderful Dad

“……… oh, no. They would.” -Me

And now I’m worried

I mean, I love Arya, I really do. And I love girls being great. But something like that would just feel so… out-of-the-blue

Please don’t let that be the case

(But then again, my wonderful Brother’s always right)

Theon and the red shirts going to war and I can’t even try to appreciate it

Oh, well, I couldn’t see much of it anyway

And there goes Rhaegal and Wightserion fighting in the sky. And I can’t even see what’s happening. Wondrous

*squinting*

No! Not the cloak Sansa made for Jon! Bad dragon, bad!

*more squinting*

… did Drogon just bite Rhaegal? It looks like it. But I won’t jump to any conclusions just yet because I CAN’T FRICKING SEE!!!

Jon has to be hurt after that fall. There’s no way he only got a few scrapes

Then again, the damage to his body is probably far less than the damage my eyes have taken straining to see the screen

And back to the battle. Time to see if anyone I love is still alive…

*even more squinting*

Ya’ know what, I can’t tell

Oh, great. Dany and the Night King. Well, let’s see if she’s going to kill him and become the heiress of a million more prophecies

Bet you ten bucks she’s going to smile when she burns him

And knock knock I’m here to collect my money

Well, Jon’s staggering around like he’s hurt, at least. That’s good enough for me (at least someone seems to be affected by bodily wear-and-tear)

And the Night King’s not burnt. Oh, this is great!!!

AND THAT SMIRK!!! I CAN’T!!! *falls off chair laughing*

“Can we stan the Starks and the Night King at the same time? Is that even possible?” - My Wonderful Dad

“Well, Dany, your purpose here is done. Time to go back to Meereen.” - My Wonderful Brother

“Excuse me, but what did the people of Meereen ever do to you to have you wish such a thing on them?” - My Wonderful Dad

“Nothing. I just really want Demanding Tourist out of Westeros already.” - My Wonderful Brother

Yes, head popsicle. Get the dragon brat!!! Yeeeeeeeees!!!!!!

Aw, darn it. He missed

Oooh, Jon running at the Night King. Here we go! One-on-one!!!

Oh, shoot. He’s running towards him as the guy’s reanimating the corpses?! Is he really planning on sacrificing himself?!??!

(you know what, never mind. It’s Jon - we already know the answer is yes)

Okay, sweetie, all you need is a few good jabs and I’ll be happy. Just get a couple hits on this guy and I’ll be satisfied

Immediately has “Satisfied” from Hamilton play in my head and chooses to ignore it

Ummm… Jon. Why are you stopping? The path is still clear? Just run through!

Oh, shoot, everyone that was killed is coming back

Oh, hey, look, Jaime and Brienne are still alive… and they’re probably not going to be in two more minutes so I better enjoy it. Good thing I have both Wench and Kingslayer sense, or I might not have been able to tell it was them in the dark

Now where’s Pod? *activates Squire sense”*

And there’s the crypts not staying safe. I fricking called it and I wish I hadn’t

Don’t you dare touch Gilly or Little Sam or Sansa, wights!!!

On another note… how did the wights manage to punch through solid stone with their skeletal hands?

My boy Theon still stepping up. *sighs* I’m really going to miss him… and back from a quick cut, Jon squinting at that dragonfire is me right now, after nearly a whole hour of watching an almost fully-black screen

Giving credit where credit is due, Dany just saved my fav. Thanks for that, but don’t get used to it

Ooooooooh Dany stuck in the middle of nowhere without her dragons surrounded by wights… *pulls out White Walker paraphernalia and foam finger* Team Wights forever!

(What? I did say don’t get used to it)

No Jorah! Nooooooo! Why?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

“WE COULD’VE HAD IT ALLLL!!!!” - My Wonderful Brother

Also, kind of hate how the sword belonging to the family Dany burnt alive is now being used to defend her, but who cares what I think, right?

Jon running past Sam is so wrong on so many levels

On another, however, it shows that he prioritizes Bran - his family - above all else. So, maybe I’m giving D&D too much credit here, but if that’s what they were trying to convey, I can see where they’re coming from

This tunnel run is the most fighting Jon’s actually gotten to do in the episode thus far, which is actually pretty dissapointing

Y’know, considering he was all gung-ho about fighting the Army of the Dead and all

Theon , my boy, you make me proud

Also, what is Bran actually doing? Something important, I hope…

Wow. Dany can magically wield a sword. Where did this sudden skill come from, I wonder…

Are Sansa and Tyrion taking refuge behind Ned’s tomb? *heart breaks into a million pieces*

“YES! WE’RE FINALLY GOING TO SEE SANSA IN ACTION!!!” - My Wonderful Dad

*scene cuts away*

“Hey, I said in action, not inactive! I want to see my girl kill some wights!” - My Wonderful Dad

He’s been a full Sansa stan for only a week yet he gets how awesome she is. I’m so proud of him

Oh, great, Wightserion almost killing Jon

Oh, great, wights almost killing my J-B-P Family Trio

WHY DO PIANO SCORES NEVER MEAN ANYTHING GOOD IN THIS SHOW?!?!?!?!

Yet I’m already loving this score. Let’s see just how much of a next level Ramin Djawadi takes it to

No, bad wights! Don’t kill my children!

No! Don’t make Sam cry!

Noooooooooooo! Don’t say thank you, Bran! Now he’s really going to die!

NOOOOOOO! THEON!!!!!!! *cries hysterically*

Jon… just can’t catch an awesome break this episode, can he? Now he’s got to deal with the dragon he already faced again… *sighs*

And yep. Ramin Djawadi outdid himself with this score. And that’s the hill I die on

Jon, sweetie… why are you randomly screaming at a dragon? Did you hit your head when you fell off Rhaegal? Has the stress of obsessing over the undead finally caught up to you? Did Dany finally break you?

Okay, a white walker’s hair has suddenly turned into a Maybelline commercial

And it’s…

Arya. Oh, boy. Here we go…

Aaaaaaaaand… it’s over. Just. Like. That.

We never even got to know anything about him and that’s it

They Snoke’d him

And Bran was utterly useless, to boot

*left eyes strained from too much squinting twitches*

“They really did it…” - mMe

“Called it.” - My Wonderful Brother

“Well… I guess good for Arya. Right?” - My Wonderful Dad

“No. Not good. Not good. I’m glad she got a chance to shine and I don’t even care about her hitting the final blow. I don’t care who hi it, honestly!!! But Jon and Bran were both completely useless?! EVEN BRAN?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?!?! BRAN’S ENTIRE STORYLINE WAS THE NIGHT KING!!! NOW WHAT’S HE ANY GOOD FOR?! TELLING HIS FAMILY THAT JAIME PUSHED HIM OUT A WINDOW?!?! DON’T GIVE ME THAT! I DID NOT SIT THROUGH SEVEN ENTIRE SEASONS OF GAME OF THRONES AND PUT UP WITH SIX OF THEM WATCHING BRAN’S BORING-AS-ALL-HECK VISIONS JUST FOR HIM TO BE PLAYING WARG THE RAVENS THROUGHOUT THIS ENTIRE EPISODE AND HAVE NO SAY IN TAKING DOWN THE POPSICLE!!!” - Me, with an unpopular opinion that will get me in so much trouble later

“True. His lack of involvement was… dissapointing.” - My Wonderful Dad

“You know, there’s a way it all could’ve worked. All they had to do was have Bran warg into the Night King to try and keep him at bay to give Arya the chance to finish him off. Show a bit of struggle between all three of them and ultimately have Bran be the deciding factor. Maybe throw in a bit of flashbacks to the guy’s past, while they were at it” - My Wonderful Brother

“Yeah, but that would require making the guy look like a legitimate threat in terms of fighting.” - Me

“Oh, that’s an easy fix. They should’ve let Jon fight the Night King before and get royally owned. That would’ve established him.” - My Wonderful Brother

“Not only that, but it would also heighten the expectation that Jon would make a huge comeback, which would really throw the viewers for a loop when Arya comes to save Bran instead.” - My Wonderful Dad

My family, everyone. Also known as my bright spots in the abysmal world

To be fair, the one thing I like about this is that the knife originally intended to kill Bran eventually saved him. Bravo

Welp, there goes Jorah. My heart is already in pieces, so a few more breaks won’t do anything

*cries anyway*

Guess Dark!Dany is probably coming. At least I hope so. And then we’ll have Bronn fight her or some other nonsensical decision. Who cares anymore?

I can’t bring myself to feel a shred of pity for Dany or an ounce of compassion. Yet even I know Emilia Clarke’s acting in this scene is fantastic

And now at the end of the episode we finally have light. And my eyes actually are having a hard time adjusting to it

So long, Melisandre. I’m surprisingly emotional about this but maybe that’s just because I’m still crying from Jorah

That’s it? Huh. That’s it. Who lived? Who died? Don’t ask me.

I’m going to go work on my AU now. It may suck, but at least I put real effort into it. Maybe I’ll be a screenwriter. It seems to require very little

I’m bitter and ready to be unfollowed

Sorry

#gots8e3spoilers...#anti daenerys #anti jonerys #dark!dany #anti targ restoration #anti targaryen #anti d&d...#anti arya to a extent but not really #just in case i don't want to offend anyone #political!jon musings #unpopular opinions...#anti episode lighting #sorry about the potential typos and incoherencies #i was ticked really ticked #please don't @ me i don't want to start trouble #just getting this all off my chest

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christabellanikolai · 5 years

Text

Winter’s End, Chapter 3

I saved thousands that night, but I couldn't save my family.

Archive of Our Own Link

They had been riding for what Jon had assumed was two days straight, only stopping for a few short times to eat. As they continued south along the King’s Road their horses became tired, slowing their pace. Finally, Theon and Jon had decided to take a break, setting up a small campfire along the road, cooking their first proper meal in days. Two other members of the Night’s Watch had also joined them. Jon did not recognize them, he assumed they had joined after he had become King in the North or even Warden of the North.

“Is it true you climbed the Wall?” asked one of the men, Jon had learned his name was Crann. “What was it like?”

“Hell,” said Jon, unsure if the boy was speaking of the steps or when he scaled the side to cross over with the Free Folk. “There is a reason we have a lift.” All four laughed as Theon began to pass around pieces of charred meat. “What about you two? How did you two become members of the Night’s Watch?”

“Our families died in the wars your grace.” said the boy who had introduced himself as Orwen, his face similar to that of Grenn. “When there was nothing left for me I ended up riding North to help rebuild, somehow I found myself at the Wall.”

“I was living in the foothills just outside the Eyrie when the fighting for King’s Landing broke out. My family refused to take sides and was murdered by the Lannister army. I ran and hid out the war in an abandoned holdfast.” said Crann “When it was all over I began to wander, explore what was left of Westeros. The Lord Commander found me and brought me to the Wall. The first time I saw it, it felt like I had reached the edge of the world.”

“I am glad to see that the Watch is prospering,” said Jon

“It really is the Queen’s doing.” said Theon, “Jaime says she is the first ruler on record in many years to actually visit Castle Black.” Jon then remembered what one of the boys had said in passing that night in front of the statue on the Wall. How Daenerys had lit the flame herself. “She told me she wouldn’t let the Night’s Watch die, she wanted it kept alive in your memory.”

Later that night Jon lay awake, staring up that stars. Each time he closed his eyes he saw her face. At first, she had been smiling down upon him, memories of their blissful nights together. Though as the hours' pasts and the cold winds began to blow her face changed, tears pouring from her eyes as she begged him not to go, to stay back as his armies fought one last battle with the Night King.

“Jon…” his brother Bran’s voice ringing in his head. “Jon, go down the hill, there you will find a Godswood.”

It was as if his feet began to move on his own. Soon he found himself standing face to face with a heart tree, the eyes streaked with red sap. “Reach out your hand.” he heard Bran say. “You must begin to see.”

Jon did, just as his hands touched the bark he felt the world around him disappear. No longer was there a Godswood in front of him but his Brother Bran, his hand held out. “Don’t be afraid, soon you will understand.” Flashes of images played out in front of him, they were so quick he struggled to see them clearly. In one he reached for Longclaw, stopping suddenly as he found the blade ablaze. He then swung it toward the Night King, hitting him in the abdomen. Just as the Night King’s form began to break apart, a spear made of ice was pushed forward. He felt the sharp end enter his stomach. A flash of pain before his hands fell upon warm blood as it poured from the wound. “Dany…” he whispered as he fell to his knees. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s too late. He is gone.” he heard an unfamiliar voice say. He saw himself lying on stone, his body surrounded by branches. Children of the Forest stood around him. “We need to try.” another voice said.

“Do it.” he heard his Brother say. He looked up to find Bran among the branches, standing above him. “This is the only way to prevent the Army of the Dead from ever rising again.”

A sudden stabbing pain in his chest, he heard himself scream out as his body lurched upward. Slowly the scream turned into one that was no longer his own, but Daenerys. He turned his head looking for her, terrified by her cries of pain. “No!” he heard himself yell. “No more!”

He ripped his hand away from the tree, once again within the Godswood. His heart was racing and his breath unsteady. “Jon!” he heard Theon yell as he ran toward him. “Jon, what’s happened?”

“I should have been there,” Jon repeated. He couldn’t understand why he was saying this, nor did he know where he was speaking of. Only that whatever had made Daenerys scream in such pain, he should have been there to protect her. “I should have, she shouldn’t have been alone.”

“Jon, what are you talking about?” he felt his friend placing his hands upon his shoulder, pulling him back to reality. Theon looked toward his friend and then the heart tree, he somehow understood what was happening. He heard rumors of Northmen having such abilities. “What did you see?”

Jon swallowed hard as he continued to breath heavy. Clutching his chest. “I was beyond the wall, the Night King stabbed me but Bran he was there. I heard Dany, she was screaming, but I couldn’t find her. It was awful.”

Theon took Jon’s shaking hands in his own as he kneeled in front of him. “It’s over now, look at me. You aren’t there anymore, you are with me in the North, and we are going to King’s Landing. Daenerys is Queen now, she is waiting for us.” It was something he had found helped not only himself but his sister as well. Whenever their past traumas haunted them, they simply needed to be reminded of the present. It seemed to help Jon as his breath began to slow and he was able to rise to his feet. “Let’s get back to riding for the capitol. We should be near Winterfell soon.”

“My Queen, please accept these gifts.” One of her subjects stood before her in the throne of the Red Keep. She sat upon the iron throne, holding court with the people of Westeros. While the lines had been short during the early days of her rule, they had grown longer as the weather began to change. “Your gentle yet strong leadership saw that not only Westeros, but the lands beyond the Narrow Sea survived this long and hard winter. For this, we bring you jewels from across the waters. They are from lands you once visited while in exile. I hope they serve as reminders of how far you have come.”

“Your gesture is wonderfully kind.” said Daenerys as her she admired the set of jewelry held within a small trunk. From where she sat she was unable to tell by the cut of jewels where exactly they were from. She nodded toward her Queensguard as the man closed the trunk before passing it to one of the Unsullied soldiers. “If there is anything you need to rebuild please do not hesitate to ask. We hope to provide any resource needed to help people rebuild their homes.”

“Today I only hoped to say thank you my Queen.” said the man as he bowed, taking his leave.

“Was that the last one?” she asked Missandei who nodded. “Good, Tyrion have Yara and Davos brought to my chambers.”

As she headed toward her private chambers she could hear her son receiving a lesson from Samwell in one of the studies. “Whose sigil is that?” she heard him ask. She stood in the doorway, watching the two look over a large book containing the sigils from each of the houses in Westeros.

“That is a new one.” said Sam “A bear looking upon a maiden. House Giantsbane, they live in the North. Your Father helped to bring them from beyond the wall.”

“They knew Father?” asked Aegon, his face lighting up at the mention of Jon.

“Yes, Tormund was a great friend of his.” said Sam “Maybe he will visit us for the wedding. You could ask him how your Father thought Tormund was a King the first time they met.”

“He will be here.” said Daenerys as she sat down across from them. “Brienne once served in your Aunt Arya’s own personal guard.”

“My Queen! I am sorry I did not see you come in.” said Sam as he struggled to quickly rise to his feet. Daenerys giggled, shaking her head at the unnecessary formalities. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes, I was just hoping to ask if you received any more responses from the Maesters.”

“Not since yesterday, but I did receive this one from Jaime at Castle Black this morning.” He passed a rolled up parchment toward Daenerys. She took it, her hands shaking with worry that it may be a response to her request. Sam took her hand in his, shaking his head.

‘Theon Greyjoy and 2 others have begun their journey toward Kings Landing. They should arrive in time to represent the Night’s Watch in the celebration of the union between House Stark and House Baratheon. They bring with them a gift for both Arya Stark and her grace Queen Daenerys. - Jaime Lannister, The 1000th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.’

“A gift for myself and Arya?” asked Daenerys confused by the wording of the letter. She ended up rolling her eyes as she read it once again. Sam laughing in response to her candor. “Of course he would be vague.”

“It seems any gifts should be shared among Gendry and Arya, not between the Queen and the Bride.” said Sam causing Daenerys to smile.

“That has always been the only tradition I have known,” said Daenerys before heading over toward Aegon. The boy wrapped his arms around his Mother and pulled her closer. “When you finish your lessons we can have dinner in the Gardens.” She whispered before heading for her chambers.

As she stepped inside, she watched as Yara and Davos rose to their feet, bowing their heads. “Sit, sit,” she ordered. It had been a long afternoon of holding Court, and she was done with formalities. “These silly things really do waste time. Yara I am sure you are probably wondering why I asked you to here a bit earlier than the rest of the guests.”

“I believed it was because you have missed my company.” said Yara in her sarcastic flirtatious tone. “Though if it is for an arranged marriage between this man and myself, I am afraid my Queen that you are far off from my preferences.”

“I would never do such a thing.” smiled Daenerys. “No, I have a proposition that involves both you. As it appears Winter is over, traveling the Narrow Sea should be much easier. You two know more about traveling the seas than anyone in the Seven Kingdoms. I also think it’s time I grow the Small Council. Yara I would like to make you Master of Ships and Davos I would make you the Master of Trade.”

“What of my duties as Master of Law your grace.?” asked Davos, having previously put in charge of keeping order among the people and maintaining the Dungeons during the Winter.

“Ser Jorah has agreed to take on that role should you accept this new position.” answered Daenerys. “You two would obviously be working closely which is the reason I have brought you both here.”

“What would you like us to do first?” said Yara, immediately agreeing to the Queen’s request. She was exciting not only by the opportunity but also the fact that another woman had recognized her skills and abilities such a way.

“Ser Davos meet with the people of Flea Bottom, I want you to work with them to identify something that is only available from across the Narrow Sea. It needs to be something people will buy, Flea Bottom will then become the hub from where it is sold.”

“My Queen…” said Davos “This is a brilliant idea. I am quite sure the people of Flea Bottom will be grateful for this opportunity, thank you.”

“It is a small step, but if we are going to build that part of the cities economy then we have to set them apart from other traders in the city, may even the country.” said Daenerys “Yara, your first task will be to go to the harbor. There are some old ships, left by the Lannisters and your brother’s fleet, I want you and your men to see what needs to be done to convert them into trade ships.”

“Yes my Queen,” said Yara.

“Good, I want regular reports from you both at Small Council meetings.” said Daenerys “Also we should be sure to share our plans with Gendry when he arrives. He grew up there and would have invaluable insight into what can be done there.”

“Yes your grace.” agreed Davos “I hope he is excited for this as I am.”

The highest towers were gone, the stones surrounding the walls were crumbling. They stood on the hills overlooking Winterfell. He was finally able to see the damage that had been left over from the last time he stood within the walls of the Northern capital. As he rode forward toward the gates, he thought of the last time. He was riding hard away from the gates, toward a dragon, his wife calling to him. Above him he could see the Night King surrounding the castle, riding upon the back of Viserion. In his arms was Arya, screaming for him to allow her to go back for her.

They were quickly able to ride through the gates. All of them silently dismounted from their horses before walking into the courtyard. The entrance ways and halls had been burned out. Many of the structures had collapsed or were on the verge of doing such. He walked toward what was once the entrance to the training yard, an arrow, it’s tip made of Dragonglass lay on the ground. A small reminder of that horrible night.

“Winterfell fell that night.” said Theon “But it was on that night that you began to push the Army of the Dead further North. You saved thousands in the South that night.”

“Thousands, yet I couldn’t save her.” said Jon

“Who?” asked Theon.

“My sister, Sansa,” said Jon, his head hung low. “I tried but the flames... this courtyard went up so fast. My men pulled me away, I was even lucky enough to grab Arya when I did.”

“You don’t know…” said Theon, his voice low. “I feared you did ride off before the raven arrived.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Jon “What raven?”

Theon had rescued his sister from Kings Landing just before Winterfell fell. While he had wanted her to return to the Iron Islands, she insisted on going North to fight with Daenerys. The seas wouldn’t be safe. Instead, they had sent a ship as a decoy, sailing toward White Harbor. They then began to travel North by horseback. When they came upon Winterfell, they saw the destruction left over by the attack. They walked the courtyard in silence, stepping over charred bodies of those left behind. “This can’t be…” said Theon, fearing his allies and friends were dead.

“There was no sign of the army south of here.” said Yara “They must have pushed them back North, we have to keep going.”

They quickly began collecting any of the dragonglass weapons that had been left over. As they did, they heard a voice shouting to them from the trail leading to the crypts. “Greyjoy! Get over here now!”

“Clegane?” asked Theon, both himself and his sister ran toward to crypts. There they found Sandor Clegane, the Hound motioning for them to follow him. “You have to help me get her out of here.”

“Who?” asked Theon, but his question was answered as he came upon the tomb of Ned Stark. There at the foot of the statue lay Sansa. Her skin was burned, she was shaking, and Theon was unsure if she was conscious. “Sansa! What’s happened to her?” Theon fell to his knees, pulling the young woman toward him.

“Theon…” he heard Sansa say as she weakly reached her arms around him. “What are you doing here?”

“She was in the main hall when the army of the dead arrived.” said Sandor “Fire, there was..blue fire everywhere. She must have somehow made it out of the hall and came here. When I was running something hit me in the head, when I came to, I found her while looking for survivors.”

“Smart little thing.” said Yara “This whole area is made of stone.”

“She has been too weak to move these last two nights.” said Sandor “We need to find the closest Maester, bring her South if we have to.”

“If we bring her South then Cersei will surely have her killed.” said Theon

“What would you have us do then Greyjoy?” yelled Sandor “There are no Maesters left North of here, and we can’t just leave her here to die.”

“Calm yourself Hound!” said Yara “East, we can bring her East and then go South if we have to. There is a Maester on the Iron Islands, he could help her, and it would put distance between her, the fighting and Cersei.”

“No…” Theon heard Sansa say. “It hurts too much, just go and leave me. Jon and Daenerys need you.”

“I’m not leaving you to die alone here.” Said Theon rising to his feet with Sansa in his arms. He ran with her as the statues of those he had previously betrayed looked on.

“We got her to the Iron Islands on a stolen ship we found in the bay.” said Theon. Jon stood silently staring toward the entry to the crypts. “The Maester there helped her the best he could, but we had to bring her to the Citadel when it was safe.”

“But she is alive?” asked Jon.

“Aye she is alive.” smiled Theon, “She wrote to me a few months ago from Riverrun. Though I imagine she will soon head to Kings Landing for your sister’s wedding.”

“Theon…” said Jon as he stepped forward, pulling the other man to him, his arms wrapping around him. “Thank you.”

“Riders are approaching!” yelled Crann from the gate. Theon quickly reached behind Jon pulling the hood above his head. “What are you doing?” he heard Jon say as he tried to stop him. “This is still my home.”

“Do you remember how you said you wanted to get to your wife quickly.” said Theon “That will not happen if you are found here. Now do your best to keep yourself hidden and let me do the talking.”

“What are men of the Night’s Watch doing here?” they heard the riders asked they came through the gates.

“My apologies if I have disturbed the ruins.” said Theon “I was raised here and just wanted to pay my respects on my way to King’s Landing.”

“And who are you?” asked one of the riders. Jon was able to see them now, though he continued to keep his face hidden. They too wore black cloaks, though a sigil of a dragon and a wolf was embroidered on the front. They were from King’s Landing. He assumed they had been ordered by Daenerys to keep watch over the ruins until Winter ended and it could be rebuilt.

“Theon Greyjoy.” informed Theon “I was kept as a ward here for many years. I am on my way to the wedding by invitation of Queen Daenerys.” Jon watched as Theon handed the man a scroll, he assumed it was the invitation to King’s Landing from Daenerys.

“Apologies.” said one of the guards. “Your companions, they are members of the Night’s Watch as well?”

“Yes,” said Crann before introducing himself and explaining where he was from. Orwen also did the same.

“You over there.” said one of the guards toward Jon. “Who are you? How did you join the Night’s Watch?” Jon froze at the question, a feeling of uneasiness passing over him. In anticipation of traveling King’s Landing, and in trying to figure out what exactly happened to him and his family, he had forgotten to plan for this type of moment. He turned to see Theon, a look of worry and anticipation across his face.

“My name is Clovis,” said Jon in an almost hush voice. “Joined the Night’s Watch when my home was destroyed in the war with the Night King.”

“Think you are gonna become the next King in the North with that sword there.” said the guard in a joking tone as he noticed Longclaw on Jon’s hip. “So many boys running around with Longclaw replicas. Saw one almost burn his hand off dipping his into a fire the other day.”

“Well we won’t be doing that.” said Theon “Now I think we should be heading for King’s Landing.” The four men then began to head back toward their horses. As Jon made his way toward the gate, one of the guards stopped him by grabbing him by the arm. Jon froze as the man looked closely at him. “Sorry, I thought I recognized you from somewhere,” he said before letting him go.

Jon quickly mounted his horse, riding forward, ahead of the rest of the group. While he could hear them shouting for him to slow down, he ignored them. There was a fear that he had been discovered and if word got out, it would slow him down. He needed to get as close to Daenerys as he could before any of that happened.

#jonerys #jonerys fanfic #jonerys fanfiction

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tatticstudio55 · 6 years

Text

Why Jon “had” to die

Jon is a very guilt-driven character.

Why? Maybe it started with him wanting Winterfell and knowing that it couldn’t be his unless all his siblings died. Maybe there’s some subconscious guilt related to the death of his mother. Maybe it has to do with the way Cat treated him. Maybe all the above. Guilt is so deeply rooted within him that his whole life orchestrates itself around a never-ending atonement: he forbids himself from any sexual intimacy with a girl (like... the guy’s 14 in the book ffs). He wears “the black”, a color first and foremost synonymous of grief and sorrow. This is a lifetime long mourning vow that he’s taken at 14. Is he mourning his mother? Repenting for his “crimes”? Both?

“Iron Emmett was a long, lanky young ranger whose endurance, strength, and swordsmanship were the pride of Eastwatch. Jon always came away from their sessions stiff and sore, and woke the next day covered with bruises, which was just the way he wanted it. […] He had hardly slept last night, and after an hour of restless tossing he had given up even the attempt, dressed, and walked the top of the Wall till the sun came up, wrestling with Stannis Baratheon's offer. The lack of sleep was catching up with him now, and Emmett was hammering him mercilessly across the yard […]

That morning he called it first. "I'm Lord of Winterfell!" he cried, as he had a hundred times before. Only this time, this time, Robb had answered, "You can't be Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born. My lady mother says you can't ever be the Lord of Winterfell."

I thought I had forgotten that. Jon could taste blood in his mouth, from the blow he'd taken.

In the end Halder and Horse had to pull him away from Iron Emmett, one man on either arm. The ranger sat on the ground dazed, his shield half in splinters, the visor of his helm knocked askew, and his sword six yards away. "Jon, enough," Halder was shouting, "he's down, you disarmed him. Enough!"

No. Not enough. Never enough. Jon let his sword drop. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "Emmett, are you hurt?" – Jon, ASOS

The scene unfolds in such a way that it almost seems like Jon is seeking punishment, wanting to be beaten up, and at the same time, making himself deserve it.

The thing is, Jon isn’t guilty of... anything, really. His role as a black sheep is to suffer for a wrong that either 1) isn’t his fault, or 2) isn’t anyone’s fault. Jon’s long internalized guilt (sorry for sounding like a psychologist here) is projected to/for the readers in scenes where Jon’s “wrongs” are purposely left ambiguous – if not in the reader’s mind, at least in Jon’s: when he kills Qhorin Halfhand. When he finds Ygritte dying at the feet of the Lord Commander’s tower (double guilt symbolism here, since we know that Jon will become Lord Commander very soon), from an arrow that isn’t his, “but felt as if it were” (Jon – ASOS). Janos Slynt’s unjust accusations at Jon (he’s a deserter, a murderer of his own kin, an oathbreaker, etc) serves as a foil to this: we know Jon is being wrongly accused. We know Slynt is just a scum. Jon himself knows he’s not guilty of the crimes Slynt accuses him off; yet a part of him still believes so: he feels guilty for what happened with Ygritte. He feels guilty for sleeping with her. He feels guilty for leaving her (Jon, ASOS). The death of so many wildlings on the Wall weights heavily on him:

“He found Quort dead, and Stone Thumbs dying. He found some dead and dying Thenns he had never truly known. He found Big Boil, weak from all the blood he'd lost but still alive. He found Ygritte sprawled across a patch of old snow beneath the Lord Commander's Tower, with an arrow between her breasts.” – Jon, ASOS

And I do believe that Jon’s Winterfell’s crypt dreams, following Ygritte’s death, was meant to blur the lines between his guilt for what happened with her, and the death of his mother Lyanna, at least subconsciously. (See Jonerys subtext in ASOS).

All this comes to a culminating point when the giant Wun Wun (who stays at Castle Black on Jon’s authorization) attacks and kill ser Patrek at Castleblack:

“The giant was bleeding himself, with sword cuts on his belly and his arm. He swung the dead knight against the grey stone of the tower, again and again and again, until the man's head was red and pulpy as a summer melon. The knight's cloak flapped in the cold air. Of white wool it had been, bordered in cloth-of-silver and patterned with blue stars. Blood and bone were flying everywhere. Men poured from the surrounding keeps and towers. Northmen, free folk, queen's men ... "Form a line," Jon Snow commanded them. "Keep them back. Everyone, but especially the queen's men." The dead man was Ser Patrek of King's Mountain; his head was largely gone, but his heraldry was as distinctive as his face.” – Jon, ADWD

It’s interesting to look at the similarities this scene shares with Dany’s ADWD scene where she runs to Drogon in the fighting pit: the dragon and the giant both receives the first blows; both rip off an arm of their aggressor, Jon and Dany both take their “sides” over the “human” side:

“Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun howled again and gave Ser Patrek's other arm a twist and pull. It tore loose from his shoulder with a spray of bright red blood. Like a child pulling petals off a daisy, thought Jon. "Leathers, talk to him, calm him. The Old Tongue, he understands the Old Tongue. Keep back, the rest of you. Put away your steel, we're scaring him."

Couldn't they see the giant had been cut? Jon had to put an end to this or more men would die. They had no idea of Wun Wun's strength. A horn, I need a horn. He saw the glint of steel, turned toward it. "No blades! " he screamed. "Wick, put that knife ..." – Jon, ADWD

“The hero leapt onto his back and drove the iron spearpoint down at the base of the dragon's long scaled neck.

Dany and Drogon screamed as one.

The hero leaned into his spear, using his weight to twist the point in deeper. Drogon arched upward with a hiss of pain. His tail lashed sideways. She watched his head crane around at the end of that long serpentine neck, saw his black wings unfold. The dragonslayer lost his footing and went tumbling to the sand. He was trying to struggle back to his feet when the dragon's teeth closed hard around his forearm. "No" was all the man had time to shout. Drogon wrenched his arm from his shoulder and tossed it aside as a dog might toss a rodent in a rat pit.

"Kill it," Hizdahr zo Loraq shouted to the other spearmen. "Kill the beast! "

Ser Barristan held her tightly. "Look away, Your Grace."

"Let me go!" Dany twisted from his grasp. The world seemed to slow as she cleared the parapet. When she landed in the pit she lost a sandal. Running, she could feel the sand between her toes, hot and rough.” – Dany, ADWD

But I digress. Right after Jon yells at his men to put away their blades, they turn around and kill him.

“... away, he meant to say. When Wick Whittlestick slashed at his throat, the word turned into a grunt. Jon twisted from the knife, just enough so it barely grazed his skin. He cut me. When he put his hand to the side of his neck, blood welled between his fingers. "Why? "

"For the Watch." Wick slashed at him again. This time Jon caught his wrist and bent his arm back until he dropped the dagger. The gangling steward backed away, his hands upraised as if to say, Not me, it was not me. Men were screaming. Jon reached for Longclaw, but his fingers had grown stiff and clumsy. Somehow he could not seem to get the sword free of its scabbard.

Then Bowen Marsh stood there before him, tears running down his cheeks. "For the Watch." He punched Jon in the belly. When he pulled his hand away, the dagger stayed where he had buried it.

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. "Ghost," he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold ...” – Jon, ADWD

Curiously enough, that scene might’ve been foreshadowed in ASOS, when Jon went on the other side of the Wall to take a good look at himself and gather on his feelings about being named Lord of Winterfell:

“He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade. A hunger . . .” – Jon, ASOS

Jon’s following reunion with Ghost allows him to see clearly about who he is and what he needs to do, but if I may, the meaning of this scene goes beyond that. Suddenly, it’s as if… well, as if all the guilt’s weights had been lifted off his shoulders:

“When he reached Jon he leapt, and they wrestled amidst brown grass and long shadows as the stars came out above them. "Gods, wolf, where have you been?" Jon said when Ghost stopped worrying at his forearm. […] he licked Jon's face with a tongue like a wet rasp, and his eyes caught the last light and shone like two great red suns.

[…]

They ran together for the gate, circling wide around the nightfire, where reaching flames clawed at the black belly of the night.” – Jon, ASOS

What finally washed away Jon’s guilt? Notice how Ghost’s reappearance is “announced” by Jon’s sudden hunger for blood: “It was food he needed, prey, a red deer that stank of fear or a great elk proud and defiant. He needed to kill and fill his belly with fresh meat and hot dark blood. His mouth began to water with the thought.” (Jon, ASOS)

If we just switch the words a bit, we get “he needed to be killed”. That’s the atonement – the only atonement – who’ll allow him to move on. The fact that Jon had to cross the Wall to realize it is telling in and of itself, since “beyond the Wall” becomes a metaphor for “the land of the dead.” Worse, even, the need to kill and “fill his belly” is echoed in some twisted way in ADWD when Bowen Marsh thrust his knife in Jon’s belly (“He punched Jon in the belly. When he pulled his hand away, the dagger stayed where he had buried it”)

The scene with the giant, ser Patrek’s death and Jon’s murder offers an interesting take on guilt, responsibility, and the avoidance of responsibility as well. The first guy to stab Jon has “his hands upraised as if to say, Not me, it was not me” (like… yes it was you). They can’t even face their own part of responsibility in this mess (“Couldn't they see the giant had been cut?”) These men aren’t strong enough to take on the giant, so they attack Jon instead, even though Jon had nothing to do with Patrek’s death – that’s the definition of a “black sheep”. And overall, it really wraps up Jon’s atonement narrative: he takes upon himself the responsibilities for so many “wrongs” that in the end, the only way for him to be “washed” of it all is to die.

#jon snow #game of thrones character meta #asoiaf

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storyofmychoices · 29 days

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Safe.

I am so in love with this art of Mal and Daenarya by the always lovely @wisejazz. Look at how peaceful they are! Look at how relaxed they look! They're both safe... finally! sdjkfl I love this for them!

I had hoped to write a fic to go with it but I haven't been in the headspace for that and I wanted to share before ending the @choicesmonthlychallenge Flower theme so here is the art and I still hope to write a drabble when I feel up to it!

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 1 + Beyond] [Mal’s Orphanage]

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 2 AU]

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mebongster87 · 6 years

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What’s the point of a Targcest Baby?

As much as I would like for a pregnant Daenerys to be a red herring in Season 8 of Game of Thrones, there still remains a fair bit of chance that the pregnancy might be legit and perhaps we might get to see not only Daenerys birthing a live baby but also Jon fulfilling his Damocles sword of siring a bastard. So I was thinking what would be the point of having a Targcest baby if the ending of A Song of Ice and Fire is supposed to be A Dream of Spring?

In Season 7, we get the famous scene linking Jon to his future children and thus his legacy through Longclaw by Jorah. Others (@athimbleful and @jonsaishere) have written some excellent meta talking about what Longclaw represents in terms of Jon’s connection to being a Stark, being saved by a Stark (Sansa and Benjen) and his future babies (with Sansa).

Jon>Longclaw>future babies

(We also have that scene in Season 7, in the boat where a hypothermic Jon is recovering with Dany sitting by his bedside, post-wight hunt, and we have Longclaw bathed in light by the window. I personally think that this was the moment where things between Jon and Dany turned for the better and Dany actually falls for Jon.)

Anyway, to piece out some answers as to why accidental incest between Jon and Dany was necessary, I have been re-watching Season 2 of GOT because that was the season where GRRM mentioned a lot of major plot points to D&D that portends to how the series ends. In my rewatch of Season 2, episode 2, The Night Lands, I noticed a few interesting sequences of scenes surrounding Jon and Longclaw that when put together might throw some light as to what could be the purpose of a Targcest baby. This is purely speculation but I think there might be something in this theory.

So here it goes...

1. We first get to see Jon polishing Longclaw with a whetstone, right before Samwell Tarly brings Gilly over to talk to him. The camera focuses on Longclaw, the hilt and the blade which Jon is polishing, for a fair few seconds.

This is when Sam tells Jon about Gilly’s pregnancy. A baby that is the product of incest between a father and a daughter (parental-filial incest).

{In the books, Daenerys laments the fact that had she been born sooner, she would’ve married Rhaegar, so given that Jon is Rhaegar’s son, incest between Daenerys and Jon, would fulfill a mother-son parallel, or to be more precise a parental-filial generation incest as is truly the case with Daenerys being Jon’s aunt/mother-figure (hence parental).}

Jon is incensed with Sam and berates him for trying to do something reckless, like stealing Gilly away from Craster even though Sam is literally trying to save Gilly and her baby. Here we also have the talk about how Sam knows a little bit about how to help in birthing babies (again foreshadowing for the future when this particular skillset of Sam’s might come useful).

So in this scene, we have talk of an incest baby and birthing it, in the presence of Jon and Longclaw. While this isn't Jon’s baby, but Craster’s, it is interesting that they could have shown Jon literally doing anything else during this interaction with Sam and Gilly. But hey no, they had to show him with Longclaw.

2. The next scene (further in to the episode) that I want to draw your attention to, is a scene that does not feature Jon or Longclaw, but Stannis Baratheon and Melisandre in Dragonstone.

Here we have Melisandre seducing Stannis by telling him that she will give him a son, an heir, something that Stannis lacks.

This scene then moves on to Stannis and Melisandre having sex on top of the Westeros-shaped table, and we know, this is when Melisandre gets pregnant with that freaky shadow baby that Melisandre uses to end up killing Renly Baratheon. This baby is no natural baby because Melisandre uses Rhollor magic to conceive it and scarily enough it becomes a sacrificial baby to the Lord of Light. The baby becomes not only a kingslayer but also a kinslayer, because Renly is both a king and kin to Stannis. Melisandre uses this shadow baby to cast down Stannis’s enemies.

3. Immediately after this scene, we have Jon on guard duty at Craster’s Keep at night, when the whole camp is sleeping. There is a scene showing Craster taking his newly-born son and running with it to the woods as an offering to the Others. This is where we get to see how and why Craster has been able to stay alive where he is when all the other neighboring wildlings have deserted their homes.

What else do we have here? Jon standing, upon hearing a baby’s cries and looking into dark woods, with Longclaw strapped to his belt. And as before, there are few seconds of shot time where we see a clear picture of Jon with Longclaw.

Jon ventures out and sees Craster coming back after dropping the baby off. He hears the babies cries and runs towards it with Longclaw in hand, only to see that an Other is picking up the baby and carrying it away into the woods. The scene ends with Jon getting knocked out senseless by Craster.

So here we have an incest baby being offered to the Others, in exchange for survival (Craster and his family).

Now, where am I going with this?

I don’t know how the Night King will be defeated. There may well be some compromise being struck to ensure the survival of Westeros. A Jon/Daenerys accidental incest baby could be offered up as a sacrifice to slay the Night King making this baby a Kingslayer (by vanquishing a King) and a Kinslayer (Night King is a Stark so related to Jon) similar to Melisandre’s shadow baby!

Would love to hear what others have to say.

youtube

#a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #jon snow #meta #sansa stark #jon x sansa #got s8 speculation #anti-daenerys

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poeticsandaliens · 6 years

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A Pirate’s Life for Me Chapter 7

Pairing: Stella/Scully

Notes: I failed to make good on my promise that there'd be a battle in this chapter, but they did have sex again so I'm giving myself a free pass. I had to move the fight scenes forward to make room for the sex, and I have no regrets.

Tagging @today-in-fic

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11405793/chapters/30142176

Part 6 , Part 5 , Part 4 , Part 3 , Part 2 , Part 1

“You’ll have to cut it off,” Stella said apologetically, brushing her fingers through the knot in Scully’s hair.

Scully frowned. The musky air and saltwater swims made her hair wild and tacky. One morning she’d woken with a bird’s nest tangle, and unable to brush it out, she had watched it get progressively worse. She had always enjoyed her long red curls, the intricate updos she had worn on the mainland. She supposed the life she was currently living called for a change.

“Cut it,” she muttered.

“Aye.” Stella nodded and unsheathed her dagger. It was thin and well-polished, gleaming in the moonlight. A lump rose in Scully’s throat, but she forced it down. The metal touched her sunburnt neck, and she fought back a shiver.

Stella pulled the wavy ends of her hair taut between callused fingers, and Scully heard the soft chop as she sliced them through, like the sound of an old woman snipping the end of her sewing thread. She tossed the knotted bundle of Scully’s hair into the sea.

Scully touched the clean-cut ends of her hair, settling just above her shoulder blades. Loose and flat-bottomed and fluttering about her cheeks, a feeling she was unaccustomed to after years of complicated knots and braids tugging at her neck.

“I like it,” she said.

Stella drummed her fingers on Scully’s waist. “You haven’t seen it yet.”

“Regardless, I like it.” It was easy and amateur, off-kilter in a way that belonged beneath a sailor’s cap. Perhaps a kerchief, she mused, eyeing the dark banana tied around Stella’s forehead as if she were a bandit.

Stella’s hand loosened on Scully’s waist, slipping down to her hip. “Pirate,” she whispered, and with her back turned Scully didn’t know whether she’d meant it to be heard.

“Fuck me,” Scully muttered under her breath, meant to reach Stella’s ears.

Stella spun her quickly around so their noses bumped awkwardly, and Stella’s bloodless chest pressed against her, pushing her backward. Their boots scuffed the deck, meandering slowly toward the converging V of the bow until Scully’s back hit wood.

The pirate’s cold hands tugged teasingly at the waist of her trousers.

“Fuck me,” Scully murmured again. “Fuck me right here on deck, and I don’t care how many ghosts can hear us.”

Stella pressed their lips together, and neither the salt sticking to their skin nor the cracks in their lips worried them. Scully pressed her elbows into the wheel, her shirt slipping from her shoulder as Stella wrapped an arm between her back and the ship’s splintered wood. She deepened the kiss, pulling Stella’s cool body toward her until it didn’t matter if Stella’s hand was in the way—her spine dug into the ship.

She slid down the wall, her teeth grazing Stella’s bottom lip. Her skin was dusted in crystals of salt, the crinkles in her eyes glittering in the moonlight. Weathered and tanned in daylight, Stella was bone-white in the dark, a phantom with roving fingers and a sharp tongue.

They knotted together on splitting boards; splinters crept into Stella’s knuckles, into her knees, and lined Scully’s spine like stitches as Stella ground their bodies against each other. A sound escaped her she could neither recall nor repeat as Stella’s hand slid beneath her trousers, and she rocked to the rhythm of the Dutchman. No one could catch them here, and she didn’t bite her tongue or hold back a moan; she didn’t swallow down her encouragement as Stella fucked her against the swaying wheel. When she came, she cried out, and the ocean swallowed it for her.

* * *

They leaned against the bow as the night sky opened before them like a kraken's maw. Scully could smell the salt clinging to her skin, wrinkling her shirt and breeches. Her hat had only done so much to shade her from the sun, and she could feel her lips split at their seams like doll stitches. Her skin was tan and flaky—what was salt and what was sunlight she couldn’t discern. Her eyes crinkled when she smiled, as if she’d aged years in the time she’d spent on the Flying Dutchman. If she had, it might not have surprised her. Few things could surprise her anymore.

She turned to Stella, who was swigging a bottle of rum from the cellar. She wasn’t drunk—the dead didn’t get drunk, apparently. Her blonde hair was still post-coital wild, though she’d straightened the purple bandanna tied snugly around her forehead. It enhanced her angular features, lining up her eyebrows and darkening her already stern stare. She wore nothing over her breasts, nothing over the thick, white scar that sliced between them. Her shirt was wrapped around her waist; only a hip holster crossed her chest, her pistol resting snugly inside it.

“Target practice today?” Scully asked, eyeing the pistol.

Stella cocked her head. “Perhaps. Though I won’t be surprised if we spot our destination today. I’m not sure what one more lesson will do for you; you’ve learned everything you’re prepared to do.”

“If I have to shoot a man, I will.”

Stella nodded as if she were satisfied. “It’s not just about that,” she said after a long pause. “Sometimes it’s not about who shoots first, kill or be killed. I know that when you kill a man, it’s a strike against your moral righteousness. It’s not about knowing when to strike the blow without doing wrong—you’re always doing wrong. It’s about being okay with the wrong, knowing that sometimes being the pirate is being the better man.”

Scully held her gaze. “I know.”

“You’re not going to be moral if you live through this venture. You have to square with a fucked up moral compass. When you pull that trigger, you may not be right, but sometimes being right and being just don't line up. Scully, that is the last shooting lesson I can give you, and it’s one I learned late.”

“You learned it when Spector escaped?”

Stella pressed her lips together. “Yes.”

“Do you regret that night?” Scully asked.

Stella sighed, twirling a strand of blonde hair on her finger and tossing it over her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed; her shoulders tensed. “I regret not shooting him—I thought I was bound by the honor of a proper duel. Ten years to mull it over, and I’ve realized the woman he murdered deserved greater justice than I did honor. My name and honor are worth little but legend.”

“He ripped Padgett's knife from your neck.” The bare cord hung between Stella’s bare breasts, frayed and withered with time. It dangled ominously between she and Scully each time they had sex. It scratched Scully's face when Stella lay atop her in the captain's cabin.

“No he didn’t," admitted Stella.

“That’s what you told Burns,” Scully said wrinkling her brow.

Stella shrugged tensely. “It sounds more foreboding than what actually happened—I left it in Dani’s cabin, so that no one who saw it would know it belonged to Davy Jones. But I didn’t know Spector was already searching for it, had already seen it on Padgett himself many years ago. He stole it from the Ophelia, and Dani only realized after he’d vanished into the horizon. My only assurance was that he would never find the heart it carved.”

“Why lie?”

“Because the age-old tale of vengeance—the knife tearing from ‘round my neck, the burns of strangling cord—are truer to me than a thief nicking a dagger from an empty cabin as if he hadn’t just raped a young woman next door.”

She wondered how much of the myth of Stella Gibson was truer than her reality. How much of Davy Jones felt more real than Stella herself? She questioned aloud, “Is that why you wear the cord?”

“It reminds me of the threat Spector still poses. It reminds me that I must deal him justice, because no one else will.”

Scully remembered her father’s final words of advice before he departed on his final Navy voyage. He had passed her a lucky compass, broken some years after his death, pushed her tiny finger over the needle and pointed to the North shore.

Never check your compass on the Captain’s Dana. Always align it to the stars on your own.

Lieutenant Scully hadn’t joined the Navy because his fellows did. He had witnessed the duties no one wanted were often the most important. He swabbed sand and salt from the deck each morning and polished swords after a battle. Perhaps he was meticulous, a perfectionist who’d learned trust only his own hands. Scully only imagined him as righteous and true-hearted, witty at the most crucial of times.

She ruffled her newly-shorn hair and brushed the strands of red hair off her trousers. Would he be proud of the woman she had become? Had he been alive, would have stopped her going after Mulder? Would he have brought her aboard a Navy vessel and told horror stories of the Flying Dutchman?

Scully leaned against the ship’s twelve-spoked wheel, shifting with the creak of its aged wood. “Stella,” she started cautiously.

“Yes?” Stella sheathed her dagger.

“What did your father say when you took his place? How did he not…” she trailed off.

Stella sighed. “I didn’t give him a chance to say anything. When I arrived in London, he didn’t recognize me at first; he couldn’t reconcile the pirate with the elegant young woman he remembered. He never came to terms with the lawless aged captain—perhaps it was the piracy, or perhaps he simply never accepted my aging.

“We were too different to talk about our lives—imagine the dinner conversation between a pirate captain and Navy commander—but we did have an understanding. At any rate, when my mother told me to remove the bandanna from my head for dinner, he told me not to listen. He understood the sailor's ways, if nothing else.”

Stella laughed and shook her head. “He was a grave man, my father. He had these dark, hollow eyes like the tunnels beneath windswept saplings and skin like crumpled parchment. He always looked haunted to me, though I never saw him before his encounter with Padgett. That day, though, he seemed a skeleton; he had thinned and lengthened and when I put the chest on the table his fingers wrapped around it, long and slim as sewing needles.

“‘So the Dutchman has come for me,’ he said, and—” she chuckled humorlessly— “my poor mother fainted in her chair. He knew what it entailed; he knew the bargain he had made. He placed the chest on his nightstand and went about saying his goodbyes to friends and neighbors. All evening, folk I hadn’t seen in years dropped by the house to see him. He had sung at their grandparents’ funerals, taught them to sail, told them every story he knew from his Navy days to their adventure-hungry children, seen them born and raised and married.

“One by one they stepped over the threshold of my family home and shook my father’s hand, said hello to my mother. Then they would hurry off at the sight of me. I frightened them, with my sword and kerchief, an escaped convict and a pirate inside and out. And I wanted nothing to do with them after the distain they’d showed me as a young girl.

“That night I wanted nothing more than to sleep in my rocking ship, free of the men and women who knew my name before it had ‘Captain’ in front. I could hear my father toss miserably in his sleep. I made up my mind then, and took the chest from his bedside table and left a note— our debts are paid . If he was awake, he didn’t look at me.”

Scully sat with her legs curled to her chest, against the wheel. She marveled at Stella’s matter-of-fact tone.

“What made up your mind, if you don’t mind my asking?” She still hesitated to pose such personal questions, despite their pledge of honesty, and despite knowing Stella in what she considered the most personal fashion. Stella kept her emotions far more private than her body. Scully was quite the opposite, excepting the small treasure of secrets she would hardly breathe to herself.

“The sea was my home, but my father… he always said his voyages were no more than interludes. He loved his neighbors, the moors, and his quiet cottage on a hill. He loved his wife and children, and every stranger he met in the streets on warm, clear nights.”

She paused, looking over the Dutchman’s rail to a full moon trembling on the ocean surface. “My father loved everyone he met,” she said, “and I loved my father.”

Scully reached for the sharp edge of Stella’s cheek, then thought better of it. “Is he still alive?”

Stella shrugged. “I’ve no idea. I never saw him again.”

Perhaps that was Stella—a grand figure vanishing on the horizon, never to be seen again. Scully crossed her arms and shivered in the night breeze. The waves trembled weakly like a puddle on the street, starlit and welcoming. Not at all the roaring storm they had tempted when they danced to the organ of Davy Jones.

“Look at that horizon,” Stella murmured, resting her elbows on the ship’s rail. She cocked her head, meeting Scully’s eyes matter-of-factly.

“It’s easy to love the horizon,” said Scully. “You know it’ll never leave you.”

“Ah,” said Stella with a crooked half-smile, “but neither will you catch it.”

Scully wrapped her hand around Stella’s shirt-wrapped waist. “That’s what makes it easy. You don’t have to live with the hope of catching up to it. Because once you’ve got the sunset in your hands, dim and warm and copper-red, you have to open your fingers before it burns you and hope it doesn’t disappear forever. You have to be afraid.”

Stella’s blue eyes were foggy in the dark as she took Scully’s hand and raised it to her lips. “Good night.”

* * *

Scully woke to the slosh of uneven waves and the high-pitched scream of gulls overhead. It took her a moment—head cocked, eyes bleary with sleep and confusion, before she remembered what birds sounded like.

Tortuga, she sounded the word on her lips. The land of scavengers, men and shorebirds alike. Land —that was the word she was looking for. In an instant, she shook herself awake.

“Shore on starboard!” Stella shouted from the quarterdeck, muffled through the ceiling. “Raise a full canvas until I can see the Claudius with my naked eye.”

The ship creaked and swayed beneath her, and when she tried to stand her knees wobbled dangerously. She picked her scabbard off the floor and belted it around the waist. She tied a grey scarf round her neck to keep the sun off and fetched her hat from the foot of the bed, just as Stella’s boots clumped roughly down the stairs. Stella burst into the captain’s cabin, her sword flashing in a stray sunbeam.

“We made it,” said Stella, and Scully couldn’t help but notice the tremor in her voice.

“Any sign of the Claudius?”

Stella shook her head. “The islands have only just come into view.”

“How will they know which island?” At first Scully had pictured Stella’s heart buried on a barren strip of sand surrounded by a grove of dying palms. Then, she had imagined a lush paradise, fed by a river and a cliff of glittering waterfalls. She had conjured yet unknown species of flora and fauna, fish the color of fresh fruit and whistling birds on every branch. What she truly expected of the eternal resting place of Stella’s beating heart, Scully could not say. But if there were several islands, could Stella even remember herself which she had set foot on?

“Simple,” Stella answered as Scully followed her on deck. “Davy Jones buries her heart in the Hall of the Moerae, just as Padgett buried it there before. The trees grow from rivers of sand and spring-water, and their roots spin together like cages of thread. No ship can navigate the maze; the island must be navigated on foot, and it is a barren landscape with little but cacti, dry grasses and white rock. There is nowhere for a thief to hide.”

“So your heart guards itself?”

Stella sighed. “One could say that. If only Spector didn’t have the damned knife and a prisoner who knows too many old wives’ tales.”

Hesitantly, Scully touched the pirate’s weathered cheek, but her hand drifted downward, past the distinct bullet hole on her collarbone, to the pale scar on her chest. “I’ll go ashore.”

Stella narrowed her eyes. “Are you absolutely certain?”

“Mulder’s the only person alive who can lead him to the island. He’s a scholar; he has dedicated his life to studying the legends that inhabit these waters. He’ll be needed on shore if Spector ever wants to find your heart.”

“Fair enough.” Stella nodded thoughtfully and lifted her spyglass to her eye. “We’re approaching the largest island. The main inlet leads to the Hall of the Moerae.”

Scully took the spyglass and peered into it. The shore was a thin strip of black sand; behind it volcanic rock and a veritable wall of undergrowth. She searched the glass until she spotted Stella’s channel: the mouth of a river, choked with towering trees, roots that stretched like spider legs over the water. She shifted the spyglass further. Waves crashed against spires of rock; the water roiled and burst against itself.

“If he touches Mulder,” she growled, “or if he dares to touch your heart, we will be his worst fucking nightmare.”

Stella arched an eyebrow. “It’s not about my heart, Miss Scully.”

“What do you mean?” Scully lowered the spyglass, fixing Stella with a skeptical stare.

“I’ve been searching for Spector ever since he escaped the Ophelia ten years ago, but I would be hunting him even if he’d never touched that dagger. It’s about the ship he defiled and the crimes he committed against a young woman aboard. I was Captain of the Ophelia, and it is my duty to avenge the young woman raped and murdered on that ship. Now, I am Captain of the Flying Dutchman, and it is my duty to send Paul Spector to Davy Jones’ Locker.”

It was the first time Scully had heard such venom in her voice. It was cold and dry; it haunted like a blustering wind against through cracked rock. “Would you still chase him, if not for the Dutchman?” She knows the answer, but she does not trust her understanding of Stella Gibson.

“It is my duty as a captain, a pirate, and a woman. Pirates are lawless because the laws have failed us. Make no mistake—a pirate’s life is not the moral high ground. We pillage, raid, duel, plunder unattainable treasures and bring upon ourselves terrible curses. But there is a catch to our lawlessness, written in the Pirate’s Code—the lawless must seek justice for each other.”

Scully thought of Mulder, rotting in the Claudius’s dungeon—or worse, marching hand-cuffed beneath the blazing sun with a pistol pressed to his neck. as he searched for Davy Jones’ heart to save his own life. The only people who know how to find pirates are better pirates, Skinner had told her. She hoped that when she boarded the Claudius she would be a better pirate than Spector.

In the noonday light, the archipelago seemed to move toward them, splitting the waves it rode. In actuality the Dutchman drifted closer to its beating heart, thumping reliably to a breezy ocean. Scully had grown accustomed to its unique rock, and she was not looking forward to boarding another ship. Her father had always told her no two ships were alike, and she couldn’t imagine losing her sea legs now.

“The Claudius is likely anchored behind those cliffs.” Stella pointed to an inlet hidden behind jagged cliff bands and talons of rock that jutted upwards from the sea.

“Can we take her by surprise?”

“The Dutchman cannot sink in such shallow waters, and regardless, you can’t sail with your head beneath the waves.”

Scully huffed, screwing her eyes shut. “My sense of self-preservation wants to blow Spector out of the water, but what if Mulder is aboard? How do we know whether Spector has taken him ashore?”

Stella raised the spyglass once more. “We don’t.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence.” Scully rolled her eyes. She was distinctly aware of her nervous ticks—swiping her tongue over her already dry lips, a foot tapping the deck, arms crossed tightly over her chest—all of which intensified as they approached the islands. Her fingers drifted to the hilt of her pistol, nestled in a hip holster. Could she trust herself to take the shot? Could she trust herself not to?

They skirted the pale cliff-bands, and Scully had to crane her neck to see the top. A horde of sea-birds circled overhead, emerging from the higher crevices. Waves crashed and gurgled at the base of the rock, leaving a blue-green tint in its furrows and cracks. The rock face looked like cold butter, as if she could squeeze it and leave an indent for centuries to come.

As the Dutchman rounded a corner and floated into the big island's Eastern bay, Scully spied another ship anchored near the river mouth. Its blood red sails were tied up, and its flag lowered. It was a stout ship, thick and short and less than streamlined. Its boards were mismatched, replaced at different times as if to patch up the holes made by cannons. A well-armed ship, its port flank had two rows of eight cannons.

Scully pursed her lips. “Is that the Claudius?”

“It is.” Stella lowered her spyglass. “The crew does not seem to be aboard.”

“What about a prisoner?” Scully demanded, reaching for the spyglass.

Stella snorted. “If I could see through the walls of the brig, I would tell you.”

Scully finally wrestled the spyglass from Stella’s fingers and raised it to her eye. “I don’t see any rowboats.” Squinting, she turned to the shoreline. “Those, however, look very much like rowboats.”

“Where are they?”

“Lined up next to the inlet.”

“Hall of the Moerae,” Stella murmured grimly. “They will force their way through the swamp.” Her voice hardened again. “Look for a moving figure.”

Scully scanned the shoreline; she focused for a few seconds on the inlet—its waters looked a frightening deep green, and its entrance was obscured by a tangle of roots that seemed to ward off trsspassers. She looked to the tree line on either side of the estuary—thick, white-trunked palms with bundles of coconuts so big she could spot them from where she stood. A flash of movement crossed her vision, and she froze. Several figures marched along the tree line, clumped in groups of two and three. While their faces were a blur, and their clothing nondescript, she could only just make out a man at the back, who plodded and stumbled forward as if dragged.

As if he were wearing handcuffs, Scully realized, and the blood drained from her cheeks. “I see them!” she shouted, and Stella winced beside her, cupping her ear. “Beside the river. I see Mulder.”

It was the first glimpse she’d had of Mulder—hopefully the man was Mulder—in months. She had a hard time counting the weeks since she had left Port Washington, and every day she woke wondering if the man she’d left her life to rescue was even alive. She stiffened momentarily, remembering that she would have to go ashore. Recently every horizon, every gunshot, every encounter with a kraken or a schmoozing privateer, had been hers and Stella’s to face. As soon as she set foot on dry land, the battles became hers alone. If she was captured, Stella could do nothing while her feet touched the shore. If she died, Stella would never know.

“We’re close enough to row in. Are you ready?” Stella placed a chilly hand on her shoulder, but her voice had a far-away ring. She felt a gentle shake.

“Yes?” She put down the scope and met Stella’s eyes.

“Are you prepared to go to shore?”

Scully felt her pistol; she hefted it in her hand to be sure it was full before tucking it away. She touched her sword in its scabbard and jostled the buckle of her belt and holster to reassure herself it was secure. “Yes.”

Stella furrowed her brow. Scully pushed back her shoulders, lifted her chin, and nodded decisively. Stella let her go.

“Ready a rowboat!” Stella marched down the staircase onto the main deck as the canvas flew off a rowboat and landed in a heap at her feet. The boat flipped over and dropped into the water. A knotted rope tossed itself over the rail behind it. “Raise the sails, drop anchor as soon as possible. I don’t want to be too close to the Claudius.”

Scully’s boots clicked as she followed Stella down the stairs. She sat on the railing, clinging to the offered rope, and swung her legs over. As she lowered her weight onto the rope, she threw a final glance over her shoulder. Above her, a soft, winged silhouette perched on the mast, that Scully realized was the owl she had met in Los Barriles. It had been scarce recently, but now it sat motionless next to the Jolly Rodger, solemnly watching its captain. Stella leaned against the mast, her eyes narrowed at some speck on the horizon. Her purple kerchief and sun-bleached hair fluttered in the breeze. It had

“Thank you,” Scully said.

Slowly, Stella turned her head. “All the best to you, Miss Scully. If everything goes to Hell, I’ll blow Spector’s ship to smithereens.”

Scully smiled. She let go of the rope and dropped into the rowboat with a clunk. The bucket scooped a pale full of water. Creaking in their grips, the oars pulled her forward. The Dutchman shrank; where one moment Stella stood with her back to the land, the next she disappeared, as if she’d never been more than a ghost to begin with.

#The X-Files #txf fanfic #television: the fall #dana scully #stella gibson #stella x scully #pirate au #a pirate's life for me #smut #fox mulder #femmslash

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sansa-hand-of-the-king · 7 years

Text

The seven

I have been reading about the seven gods in westeros, and it came to me a stupid theory that i wanted to write. The seven gods are:

1) The Father (Tyrion) 2) The Mother (Danaerys) 3) The Maiden (Sansa) 4)The Warrior (Jon) 5) The Smith (Gendry) 6) The Crown (Bran) 7) The Stranger. (Arya). I am going to explain this under the cut because its LONG:

1) The Father (Tyrion):

The Father's face is stern and strong,he sits and judges right from wrong. He weighs our lives, the short and long, and loves the little children. Tyrion is not doubt the most intelligent man in the books, he is smart and loves his little nephews. But the most intersting fact is that he has a lot of quotes about justice and a strong opinion about what is right or wrong

“Is this how justice is done in the Vale?" Tyrion roared, so loudly that Ser Vardis froze for an instant. "Does honor stop at the Bloody Gate? You accuse me of crimes, I deny them, so you throw me into an open cell to freeze and starve." He lifted his head, to give them all a good look at the bruises Mord had left on his face. "Where is the king's justice? Is the Eyrie not part of the Seven Kingdoms? I stand accused, you say. Very well. I demand a trial! Let me speak, and let my truth or falsehood be judged openly, in the sight of gods and men."

"A trial by combat, deciding a man's guilt or innocence in the eyes of the gods by having two other men hack each other to pieces. Tells you something about the gods."

Nothing but this: I did not do it. Yet now I wish I had." He turned to face the hall, that sea of pale faces. "I wish I had enough poison for you all. You make me sorry that I am not the monster you would have me be, yet there it is. I am innocent, but I will get no justice here. You leave me no choice but to appeal to the gods. I demand trial by battle."

2) The Mother (Daenaerys):

The Mother represents motherhood and nurturing. She is prayed to for fertility or compassion, and is depicted as smiling with love, embodying the concept of mercy. It is also said that the Mother could be fiercer than the Warrior when her children were in danger. Dany is the mother of dragons, she was pregnant in the first book

This Mother of Dragons, this Breaker of Chains, is above all a rescuer

Mirri Maz Duur had promised that she would never bear a living child. House Targaryen will end with me. That made her sad. “You must be my children,” she told the dragons, “my three fierce children. Arstan says dragons live longer than men, so you will go on after I am dead.”

Mhysa!” a brown-skinned man shouted out at her. He had a child on his shoulder, a little girl, and she screamed the same word in her thin voice. “Mhysa! Mhysa!” Dany looked at Missandei. “What are they shouting?”“It is Ghiscari, the old pure tongue. It means ‘Mother.'”

She had them nailed to wooden posts around the plaza, each man pointing at the next. The anger was fierce and hot inside her when she gave the command; it made her feel like an avenging dragon. But later, when she passed the men dying on the posts, when she heard their moans and smelled their bowels and blood… It was just. It was. I did it for the children.

“My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I’ve freed all over again.”

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.

3) The Maiden (Sansa):

The Maiden dances through the sky, she lives in every lover's sigh. Her smiles teach the birds to fly, and gives dreams to little children. The Maiden represents innocence and chastity. Sansa is always considered the Maiden in the tower of the ASOIF universe. She has her lady armor, her courtesy. She inspires bravery, and a sense of protection. She is considered beautiful ( and sansa has a strange connection to birds, songs and dreams)

“Thank you,’ she said when he was done. She was a good girl and always remembered her courtesies”

“I dreamt of a maid at a feast with purple serpents in her hair, venom dripping from their fangs.”

Have you seen a highborn maid of three-and-ten, with a fair face and auburn hair?

4) The Warrior (Jon):

The Warrior represents strength in battle. He is prayed to for courage and victory. He carries a sword. Jon is the song of Ice and Fire, he is known for his ability to fight. Not only he has a lot of connection to swords but he is considered the most brave and skilled by his brothers of the nightwatch

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

“I pray for a glimpse of Azor Ahai, and R’hllor shows me only Snow

. . I am the sword in the darkness. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn . . .”

"A swordsman should be as good as his sword, Sam. Longclaw is Valarian Steel, but I am not. The Half-Hand could have killed me as easily as you swat a bug"

5)The Smith (Gendry):

The Smith represents crafts and labour. He is usually prayed to when work needs to be done, for strength. He carries a hammer. I dont believe that because Gendry is introduced as a smith, but because he has a hammer, and is the character who is more associated with strenght

"I bet you do." She ran a hand along his arm. "I don't cost nothing to friends of Thoros and the lighting lord." "No, I said." Gendry rose abruptly and stalked away from the table out into the night. Bella turn to Arya. "Don't he like girls?" Arya shrugged. "He's just stupid. He likes to polish helmets and beat on swords with hammers.”

I'll smith for you," Gendry went to one knee before Lord Beric. "If you'll have me, m'lord, I could be of use. I've made tools and knives and once I made a helmet that wasn't so bad. One of the Mountain's men stole it from me when we was taken."Arya bit her lip. He means to leave me too."

Gendry was beating up a breastplate. When he worked nothing existed for him but the metal,bellows,fire the hammer was like part of his arm. She watched the play of muscles in his chest and listened to the steel music he mad. He’s strong, she thought.

6) The Stranger: Arya

The Stranger represents death and the unknown, and leads the dead to the other world. Whilst referred to as male, he is neither male nor female. Arya is linked to the faceless men, she is forced to disguises her self as a boy, she the character more associated with death in the books, and she has taken different names, and faces. Also outcast seems to have a deep connection with this god ( Arya had always considered herself an outcast)

Death holds no sweetness in this house. We are not warriors, nor soldiers, nor swaggering bravos puffed up with pride. We do not kill to serve some lord, to fatten our purses, to stroke our vanity. We never give the gift to please ourselves. Nor do we choose the ones we kill. We are but servants of the God of Many Faces.

7) The Crone: Brandon Stark

The Crone represents wisdom and is prayed to for guidance. Her statues often show her with a lamp in one hand. Bran is only nine but he is one of the most wise character in the series. He has the sight, because he is the three eyed raven.

“Old stories are like old friends. You have to visit them from time to time”

“The strongest trees are rooted in the dark places of the earth. Darkness will be your cloak, your shield, your mother's milk. Darkness will make you strong”

“ The stone is strong... The roots of the trees grow deep, and under the ground the Kings of Winter sit their thrones. So long as those remained, Winterfell remained. It was not dead, just broken. Like me... I'm not dead either.”

Grrm works in seven. Seven books, seven kingdoms, seven gods and devils, and for me seven end game characters. Thats not to say all will end up alive, but these 7 character will impact the story in a major way for me. (yes gendry and sansa too...).

#sansa stark #tyrion lannister #gendry #arya stark #brandon stark #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #the seven gods #the seven theory #man this meta is looooong #like really really long #meta #asoiaf meta #asoiaf

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