#he saved the north and her but in return she lost him

[autophage]

The slow but incessant rain of anvils began in 1942.

George Macomber was walking from the trolley stop to his home in Great Falls (a name which many newspapers took advantage of in their lede selection) when a two-ton Bavarian fell out of the sky, landing squarely on top of poor George. He was Flattened instantly.

And, seconds later, he slid out from beneath the anvil, with a new height of one and a half millimeters. He had become, in an instant, the densest human being on the planet.

George Macomber happened to look up just before impact. This saved his life: because he was the first to ever be Flattened, the extremely-high-density intravenous fluid setup had not yet been invented, and no hospital could have kept him hydrated if his mouth were not accessible on his topside. (Iris Colelman invented the extremely-high-density intravenous setup in 1947, after hundreds had perished due to dehydration mere days after their Flattening.)

In another twist of good fortune, George Macomber had served as a signal officer in the Navy during the Great War and knew Morse code. While his vocal chords were capable only of producing an awful gurgling, he could still communicate by blinking - a trick that the doctors recognized quickly. And so he was able, painstakingly, to describe the characteristic sound of the anvil's descent: a terrifying descending whistle, like the slide-flute sound used for falling bombs in animated reels.

His story is not all a happy one, though. Some who are Flattened eventually pop back up to their former stature, but poor Mr. Macomber never did. While his medical condition remained stable, his wife divorced him and he had trouble finding employment. Seven years after his Flattening, he stopped eating or drinking. His final words, blinked to his nurse, are lost to history; she felt that she owed him her silence, even as she was fired and eventually prosecuted for letting him pass in this manner. The court asserted that she should have immobilized him and given him a high-density drip.

Only twenty-three days after George's Flattening, Irma Childress was returning from the bakery when a six-ton farrier's anvil hurtled down and Flattened her. She, too, was lucky enough that her mouth remained accessible. Her story is happier than George's - she was also the first person to pop back up to her normal height. It took her six months, and those must have been worse than George's, as she did not know Morse code - though she learned it and was proficient by her third Flattened month.

Even after regaining her former height, Irma remained wary of doors, stairs, and any place with high foot traffic. She sold her house in Los Angeles and moved out to an almond farm. She spoke to the press repeatedly and respectfully, and to this day is remembered as an early and passionate advocate for keeping the Flattened comfortable and helping them maintain their dignity.

Nobody has discovered where the anvils come from. They fall primarily in North America, most often in the southwest and midwest. Some suspect that they are flung by tornados, or some sort of awful prank, or military test flights. They are always of recent manufacture, indicated by a date stamp, but never a maker's mark.

The rate of Flattenings increased until the late 50's, at a peak of a bit over 100,000 in 1958. Today, the rain has slowed: there are usually between one and two thousand Flattenings a year. This incident rate has held steady since the early 1980's. This is unusual, since far fewer anvils are manufactured or used today than were in the 1940's. Of those Flattened, about half pop back to their previous height, usually between two months and a year after their initial Flattening.

It was difficult for the Flattened to connect with each other before modern video conferencing - those who were lucky enough to look up before their Flattening can see above themselves, but cannot see in front of themselves, and it is generally difficult for the Flattened to orient themselves otherwise. The Flattened of today generally stay on a table with a tablet above them, modified to use eye tracking for navigation. (Of course, this only really works with Flattened whose eyes are on their top- or bottom-sides; those with eyes facing forward, or whose faces were crushed into their bellies, can usually hear, but have a very hard time making themselves understood.) Regardless of orientation they are helped by dedicated care nurses who changes their IV fluids. These nurses are provided by Flattening insurance, offered by all major insurance providers; they often also take over some of the responsibilities the Flattened previously held, such as taking care of their children.

Sadly, the provisions surrounding Flattening insurance have changed in the last twenty years. Most nurses make less than 20% above minimum wage, and are afforded very little flexibility by the job, which requires them to attend the Flattened's household around the clock. They become very close with those they care for - in many cases they develop shorthands to make communication easier, such as diacritic modifications to the blinked Morse code.

While the Irma Childress Foundation is the leading voice for Flattening insurance reform, some long-term Flattened feel that their concerns are often not heard. They contend that the Foundation often bargains away provisions that could help some edge cases - especially those with limited communication capabilities.

Some of the Flattened have started pooling resources to buy land and build a city suited to their own needs, to wean themselves off of the marginal succor offered by the insurance system. We who stand tall must support them. We must afford them not only the dignity of doing our best not to step on them, but to self-determination. We must acknowledge that their lives are all unique and different. We must refuse, if you will pardon the pun, to flatten their experiences into one single narrative.

#looney tunes i guess #acme #anvils #fiction #looney tunes #looney toons #not blacksmithing

[the-air-nomad]

A wolf's love

You've known Sokka since you were little. Your father was the chief of another southern tribe and also a close friend of Chief Hakoda. Also, your grandmothers were friends in their youth. 

You were a waterbender but you discovered this shortly after Kya's death so you decided to hide this ability. After the men left for war, your father left you in Kanna's care.

 You became very close to Sokka, and Katara often laughed at your childish love for her brother. Sokka, on the other hand, adores you and has dreamed of you two getting married since childhood. 

When Sokka and Katara brought Aang to the village you were skeptical but then you agreed with Katara hoping that you would be able to find a waterbending master. 

You convinced Sokka to come with you telling him that you need someone strong to protect you. 

When you arrived on Kyoshi Island, you and Sokka argued for the first time since you met. It was the first time you noticed how misogynistic Sokka really was. Sokka begged Suki to teach him to fight and even agreed to wear traditional Kyoshi clothes. You, Katara and Aang laughed but at least you weren't mad at him anymore. 

Then came the meeting with Jet. Sokka will never admit to you how good he felt when he noticed that you also thought there was something wrong with that boy.You helped Sokka save the village.

The visit to the North Pole was a nightmare for you. The brothers found out you were a waterbender and were upset that you didn't tell them sooner. Katara soon gave up her upset being happy that she is not the last waterbender from the South. Sokka was extremely upset, first you lied to him and then you gave up on him to spend time with his sister. He won't admit it, but the fact that he wasn't a bender hurt him a lot. He decided to try to make you jealous by approaching Yue. But things did not go in his favor. After his kiss with Yue from Spirit Oasis, you decided to give up on the idea of ​​a relationship with him.

 Katara could no longer bear the horrible condition her brother was in, so she told you about his plan from the North Pole. To give Sokka a taste of his own medicine, you started flirting with Zuko. Katara thought you were a perfect match for her brother due to your extremely great talent for making plans (notice the sarcasm, please). You and Toph found Sokka's silly jealousy hilarious. 

Sokka was absolutely crazy, what did that fiery head have that he didn't?!

 During the Siege of Ba Sing Se you and Sokka finally confessed your feelings for each other. Sokka was happier than ever but that didn't last because you were seriously injured and lost a lot of blood. You've been unconscious almost as long as Aang. In that time Sokka was completely destroyed. He felt like his life was over and he swore that when you woke up, he couldn't imagine you wouldn't, he would do anything to protect you.

 When you woke up Sokka exploded like fireworks. Even though you felt horrible, you struggled to give him a big smile. After that, things started to go downhill. Sokka had become inhumanly possessive and protective. You tried to talk to Katara and Hakoda but they told you that Sokka acts like this because he doesn't want to lose you like he lost his mother which made you feel like a terrible person.

 When you arrived in the Fire Nation, Sokka followed you like a shadow. At Hama's inn he slept in the same room as you. When you found out that Hama was from the Southern Water Tribe something clicked in your mind. You asked if she had known your paternal grandmother. Her eyes widened when she heard your father's name. It seems that Hama was your grandmother, Sokka's grandmother's friend. That didn't make Sokka calm down and he almost attacked Hama with his sword when she tried to hug you. After Hama was arrested Sokka consoled you saying that you don't need anyone else when you have him.

After Zuko's coronation you and Sokka returned to the South while Katara and Aang had to stay in the Fire Nation. Although Sokka's protectiveness still bothers you, you were extremely happy when Sokka asked you to marry him.

But as heroes never have a simple life, your story has only just begun.

Although I do not own the characters from avatar the last airbender, this work belongs to me! I sincerely hope you liked it. Please rate it and leave a comment! follow me to see my next posts! 💖💖💨

You can buy me a coffe if you want:  buymeacoffee.com/TheAirNomad

#Avatar The Last Airbender #atla #yandere avatar the last airbender #sokka #soft yandere #yandere sokka #sokka x reader #katara #aang #toph #Zuko #toph beifong #reader #yandere x reader #avatar #yandere avatar #yandere atla #hakoda #kya #kanna #hama #yue #ba sing se #waterbender reader

[hamliet]

Is sansa connected to the winter rose?

In a word: no.

The winter rose is connected to Lyanna, Jon, and Daenerys.

The winter rose itself is a flower, a beautiful blue rose. They exist at Winterfell, and the legend associated with them is that Bael the Bard, a successful singer, entered Winterfell under an assumed name. As a reward, Brandon Stark offered him whatever he wanted, and Bael asked for the most beautiful flower. Brandon gave him the rose, but the next morning, Brandon's only daughter was missing from her bed, and the rose lay on the covers.

The crown of winter roses is what Rhaegar gave to Lyanna. Lyanna even dies holding roses, although their petals had turned black from death. The point is clearly that Rhaegar wooed Lyanna and she ran off with him, leaving her family. She also then died, and the beautiful blue roses had all decayed. I don't think Rhaegar and Lyanna weren't in love to some degree, but there's still a lot of political machinations at play and love, true or otherwise, didn't save them like in a fairy tale. In the end they were left with blood and death, not living roses. It's a symbol of loss as much as it is of love--loss of a daughter, loss of Lyanna, loss of a mother.

The context in which the Bael the Bard legend is told is also relevant: Ygritte tells it to Jon, who is Lyanna's son. I mean, the clues could not be clearer:

Ygritte: And she never sung you the song o' the winter rose? Jon: I never knew my mother. Or any such song.

Not only that, but Jon is facing a similar choice to Lyanna, of breaking his vows and staying with Ygritte. In the end, he chooses to return to the Watch.

But, it's not over. No, the legend continues in Brandon Stark relentlessly searching for them, but they never find anyone. He has no heirs, but then the girl returns with an infant, and as it turns out she and Bael never left the crypts of Winterfell--a place of death.

The symbolism is again pretty obvious: Jon as an infant, but also the idea that love stays with you even when you've lost the people whom you love. It's bittersweet. They're with you all along. And, from death comes life. The Stark bastard becomes a Stark lord. Again, the Jon symbolism is obvious.

Bael then becomes a King Beyond the Wall and invades the North, and his own son fights and defeats him--because Bael could not bring himself to kill his son. But his mother still loved Bael and commits suicide. Lovely. But again, the symbolism and themes are obvious: choosing love over duty (as Bael does) and choosing duty over love (as the Stark daughter does) both lead to death, because "death, the high cost of living." Our job living is to walk that tightrope and find a balance we can live with.

Dany's visions in the House of the Undying also connect Jon to the winter rose: she smells it "sweetly" as it grows "from a chink of ice in the wall." It's clearly associated with romance, as well.

Sansa has no connection to the winter rose as far as I can tell. In fact a search tells me the only connection is that after Ygritte tells Jon this, the next chapter is the one where she first "flowers," which is exceedingly tenuous as a connection. The Stark daughter who is repeatedly connected to Lyanna is Arya, not Sansa, and the winter rose has never actually appeared in either of their stories the way it has in Jon's and Daenerys's.

#ask hamliet #asoiaf meta #asoiaf theory #jon snow #jonerys #daenerys targaryen #lyanna stark #rhaegar targaryen #asoiaf #bael the bard

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Love’s treasure; Kili x reader

*Author’s note*

Okay so this has been sitting in my inbox for awhile but I finally got the inspiration and time to do this fic after getting the boost from another Kili and Fili request as well as my Celestial story.  So @sweetpeapod​ thank you for your patience and hope you see this fic and enjoy it as much as I did writing it these past couple days.

Synopsis: Reader is Aragorn’s older cousin (I imagine by 11 years so she’s about 21). Gandalf knew of her skills as a Ranger for both tracking and navigating and sought her out to be apart of the company.

NO WARNINGS REALLY JUST SOME FLUFF and a bit of angst from parental death/abandonment. 

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@queen-paladin​

@queensdivas​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@gay-and-ready-to-cry​

________________________________________________________

I observed the dark blue bead in my hand and pondered just how it had gotten lost.  It was a game I’ve always like to play, anytime I would find a lost object or weapon I’d always come up with a good story on why it got lost and whether or not the owner of said object is out there scouring Middle Earth for it’s safe return.

“What are you up to sister?” I looked up and peeking from behind the Elvish statue was my baby cousin Aragorn, or better known for his safety Estel.  Yes, Aragorn the future king of Men is in fact my cousin on his mother’s side (she is my father’s younger sister).

“I thought you were to be in your studies with Lindir? He’s taken a great deal of time and effort to educate you little one.” I lectured him with a raised brow as he came and sat down beside me on the bench.

“But I already know of the founding of Rivendell and how to speak Elvish.”

“Then tell me who was the mentor of Lord Elrond?” I replied in Elvish.  He looked at me puzzled before he crossed his arms pouting.

“I don’t like you no more.”

“Oh yeah not the first time you’ve said that to me. Or the time after that or the time after that.” I playfully reprimanded him lowering my voice to as deep of a baritone as I could muster while tickling his sides making his squirm and laugh.  “What was that you were looking at earlier?”

“What? You mean this?” I said picking up the bead.  He looked at it with curious eyes and asked me.

“Where did it come from?”

“Why don’t you answer that question. Where do you believe this bead came from cousin?” he stared at the bead, pondering over it.  His tongue slightly peeking out from his lips as he said.

“I believe…..this bead came from some merchants who were on their way to the Blue Mountains when suddenly trolls from the North ambushed them and gobbled them all up, leaving only this bead.”

“Goodness child! You really believe such a cruel fate came to innocent merchants?” he nodded.  “Alright, then I’m going to have to speak with Elladan about changing your bedtime stories.”

“No please (Y/n). He tells the best stories don’t make him stop!” I smirked softly and said as I ruffled his head.

“Very well Estel. Now care to help me braid this into my hair?” he nodded as I sat down onto the floor so that he could properly braid my hair before putting the bead on it.

“Where do you think this bead came from sister?” he asked me.

“Well little one I’ve been putting a lot of thought into it. And I think this bead might hold more meaning than meets the eye. I believe this bead was once part of a Prince’s clothing ensemble. My story is that he fell in love with a woman but wished to give her not gold or jewels for her hand, but something more meaningful to him. So he took this bead from his clothing to present to his love. However, when he went to present his gift to his love, he had overheard of his love being taken by orcs while she was out for a ride on her horse. In his haste, he dropped the bead hoping to rescue his love in time.”

“And did he? Did he ever save his true love?” Estel asked me as he paused in mid-braid.

“I’d like to say they did. And the two of them are living together in the comforts of their newly built home hoping to raise a family together.” We both turned around and there stood Kili.

“Prince Kili!” exclaimed Estel as he raced over to the young dwarf prince.  Kili smiled at my cousin and ruffled his head playfully before greeting him.

“Hello there Estel, being good for your cousin I see?”

“(Y/n) was telling me of a bead she found while out on your travels.”

“So I overheard. Hope it’s alright if I added a small opinion to your story.” He said turning to me.

“I’m always open to new suggestions. I tend to leave mine in a mist of mystery. Drives this little one nuts.”

“She never seems to want to finish the story with her trinkets and earnings.” He whined.

“One day lad you’ll see that sometimes it’s better when things are left to the imagination, instead of always having a one-sided ending.” Kili said to Estel.

“And speaking of story endings, it’s best that you get back to your studies with Lindir. He’s probably already alerted Lord Elrond of your skipping’s. And you know how Lord Elrond is that you keep up with your studies.”

“Aww! But Kili only just arrived.” Estel whined.

“Tell you what lad, you head back and finish your studies. Then once you’re done, meet me and my brother in the training grounds and we’ll teach you how we Dwarves battle off orcs and goblins.”

“Can I sister please?!” Estel begged me clasping his hands together and looking up at me with those bright blue eyes of his.

“If your mother and Lord Elrond say it’s alright.” Estel cheered before racing off and bidding us goodbye.  I playfully shook my head, “I swear that child is more like a rabbit than a boy. Always full of energy and on the move.”

“Ahhh let him enjoy it. He is young, soon he’s going to grow and lose that sense of wonder and joy once he gets out into the real world.”

“You didn’t.” I teased as Kili gawked and softly laughed.

“True, but there are times where I wish I could go back to the days of my childhood. Me and Fili battling out against dragons and orcs and winning without any consequence of the outcome.” I nodded in agreement.  “So what was the bead that you and your cousin were discussing the origins of?” I then showed Kili the strand that Estel had braided for me which held the dark blue bead in my hair.

“I had found it just shortly before we had a run in with those trolls. Saw it hidden just beside a small patch of rocks. Figured it was worth keeping rather than letting it be forgotten amongst Yavanna’s earth.” When I turned to Kili I saw that his eyes were widened and his jaw seemed tense.  “Kili? Kili?”

“Huh? What sorry I-I was…..I have to go.” Suddenly he turned his back and hastily left the garden. My head tilted confused as to why he had left so sudden without another word? I shrugged before sitting back down to admire the bead.

*Kili’s POV*

She had my bead. (Y/n) had my family bead, not only did she have it but she was wearing it. Could-could it mean? No that’s impossible! There’s no way a Ranger of the North could fall for someone like me? But then why would she place my bead into her hair and have it braided?

“…..li? Oi Kili!” I snapped out of my daze to see Fili and Bofur standing before me in what appeared to be a den area of the Elvish realm.  All over the place there were beds and wooden furniture carved to perfection.

“You looked about as lost as a lamb there lad, everything alright?” asked Bofur.

“I—well I’m beginning to question that myself.”

“What is it Kili? You’re not ill are you?”

“No Fili, well not in the normal sense of illness.”

“Ahh-hahaha I think I know.” Bofur said.  “You, Kili, have fallen under the sickness of love. And I think I know just who it is that has caught your affections.” Bofur wiggled his brow towards my brother as I let out a groan.

“It’s not like that!”

“So you don’t have feelings for (Y/n)?” asked Fili.  I did a double take towards my brother and said to him.

“Wait you—you knew?”

“Your my brother Kili. You may have always been a flirt back home but never before have I seen you act around a woman the way you do with (Y/n).” I felt my face heat up as I said to them.

“It’s not just that.” They both looked at me perplexed.  “Remember how I had told you Fili that I had lost one of my beads that mother gave me?” my brother nodded.  “It turns out (Y/n) had found it. Not only that but after just recently talking with her, I had seen that she had braided it into her hair.”

At that confession, they both began to understand the gravity of the situation.

“Surely she must not know what it means to us. I mean you see a bead and the first thought is to braid it into your hair. Surely she can’t know what it means to us, does she?” I asked nervously.

“I wouldn’t be knowing Kili, but if I am honest with yah, I think she might feel the same about you.” Bofur said.

“How would you know Bofur?” I snapped.

“You may not know it laddie, but that lass will look at you when she knows you’re not looking. And I see the same loving look in her eyes that you give to her.”

“You’re jesting Bofur. There’s no way she looks at me like that!”

“I wouldn’t be too sure brother.” Fili said.  I turned to him as he continued, “Remember back with the trolls? When they were going to put you onto the spit, (Y/n) fought to take your place.”

“But wasn’t that because we’re part of the same company? She’s just looking out for us. That’s her nature. Her kind, caring, motherly nature.” I trailed off as I felt my heart skip a beat.

“All I’m saying brother is maybe you should talk to her.”

“And how should I start it off? How about saying something like, ‘Greetings (Y/n), you know the bead you’ve got in your hair in that braid? It’s actually my family bead and by braiding it into your hair you’ve agreed to be my wife. Will you marry me?’ No.” I scoffed the last part.  “I can’t force that onto her.”

“I’m not saying lead on with that. But maybe just talk to her and see if there is any mutual feelings between the two of you. If there is, you’ll finally be happy with her. If not, then at least you’ll have your answer.”

“And if it is a rejection that comes my way? How do you expect me to cope with it? She’ll never look at me the same way again.”

“Even if she does reject your affections Kili, I doubt (Y/n) is the kind of person to make whatever bond she makes feel inferior to how it was before. But like your brother said laddie, you’ll never know unless you talk to her.” Bofur said.

I looked at the two of them, took a deep breath and thanked them for the advice before I left to go find (Y/n) before it grew dark.

*1ST Person POV*

I was at the training grounds with my bow and arrow hoping to get in some last minute training before I would retire for the night.  I notched an arrow onto the bowstring, pulled it back, took a breath before steadying my hand and let the arrow fly.  It hit dead center and I notched another arrow into the bow before releasing that and it hit the center as well as splitting the arrow.

“Ahh, when did you learn to do that?” I turned to see Kili looking between me and the target in amazement.

“When I was a little girl, when I refused to believe that a bow was just something my aunt would tie to my curly locks.” I said notching another arrow into my bow and fired it at the target splitting the other two arrows.  “My uncle agreed. He said learning to fight was essential whether you wore a dress or trousers. He was the wisest man I ever knew.”

“Wish my kin were as supportive at first when I had wish to take the bow and arrow as my main weapon of choice.”

“Thing was he wasn’t just supportive. My uncle he—he was the only father figure I ever had after my own dad walked out on my mother. After she was killed by orcs, my aunt took me in. He took me aside one early morning, taught me everything I know about fighting and said to me, ‘(Y/n), my little raven. If you remember what you’re fighting for you’ll never miss your target’.” I said remember my uncle Arathorn as a good man.

He was not only a good leader to the Rangers up in the North, but he was a loving man who loved his wife.  And loved a child that was not his own blood as a father should.  Raised her, taught her to fight but also keep a level head. I only wish that Aragorn had the same opportunity to bond with his father as I did.

“He sounds like a good man.” Kili told me solemnly.

“Aye. He was.” I said clasping the necklace he gave me a year after being adopted into the family. It’s not much just a simple silver chain with a raven in flight pendant on it but it’s so special to me and never once have I taken it off.

“Is that why you like collecting small objects?” he asked me.  I smiled solemnly and nodded.

“When I was a child and would go with him on patrols, most of the Rangers tired of how I would stop them to find a loose button or a smooth pebble perfect for skipping across the river. But never my uncle, in fact he always encouraged me to keep at it. Said that I’d never know when I might find the greatest treasure of them all.”

We sat there in a comfortable silence for a brief moment (although it felt like an eternity) until Kili finally spoke up.

“I uhh…..” he trailed off softly.  “I think you might’ve missed the target.” I looked at him confused before turning to the target where my split arrows were.  “No not….” He softly chuckled, “I meant with your story. The one you told your cousin about. For the bead.”

“Did I?” he softly nodded but he refused to look me directly in the eye.  “Care to elaborate your theory of this bead?”

“Well it’s not much different from yours. Just some minor details changed. The bead did in fact belong to a prince. But the bead was a part of his family’s heirloom, one that would be meant for a future courting. However, while out on a quest, he had realized that he had lost it. He searched and searched but could not find the bead anywhere. The Prince was heartbroken, not only of the fact he had lost his family bead, but that one day he had hoped to give it to the woman he loves was now gone. Then a few days after the start of his quest, he soon finds the woman he loves wearing his bead into her braided hair.”

He fiddled with his hands before finally looking up at me, his eyes holding both a loving gaze but also a hint of fear and insecurity.  I then watched as his eyes soon turned to look at my braid.  I lifted it up and stared at the bead only for my heart to stop and my stomach sink.

Wait…..could he mean—

“You don’t have to say anything. I won’t force you plus you did not know that braiding a Dwarf’s family bead means you accept a courtship with me. I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks now but I cannot deny my feelings any longer. (Y/n), I……” I stopped his rambling by bestowing a small kiss to his cheek.

“My heart feels the same way Kili.” His eyes widened with surprise looked at me and from his stubbled face I could see the faintest hint of a blush.

“Really?”

“Really, really.” I said with a warm smile.  A bright smile soon started to show itself on his face as he took my hands into his and bestowed a sweet kiss to the back of my knuckles.

“Mahal’s beard my—my heart is pounding more harder than Aulë slamming his axe upon a mountain of stone.”

“And the very breath within me feels like it has been sucked away.” I said to him.

“Is this what finding my One feels like? If it is, I never want it to go away. Nor do I wish to see you go.”

“I may not know the concept of your One, but if it’s anything to what we call soulmates then yes. I saw it every day with my aunt and uncle before his death. They held the purest form of true love I had only ever read in story books. But never did I hope to experience such a love.”

“Best get used to it amrâlimê, because I will spend every hour of my wakened days giving all my love to you.” I knelt down beside him and cupped the side of his face, brushing away the dark strands of his hair as I felt his hand gently cup my jawline as our forehead softly touched one another’s.

Our noses slowly grazing across the other’s like wind in the grass until finally our lips became one and we gifted our devoted love for each other through each kiss and stolen baited breath.

#the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #kili #kili imagine #kili imagines #kili x reader #kili fanfic #kili fanfiction #kili oneshot #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit imagines #tolkien fanfic #tolkien fandom #fili #bofur #aragorn #the hobbit fandom #tolkien #tolkien fanfiction #kili durin #kili durin x reader #kili fluff #kili durin imagine #kili durin imagines #kili durin fanfic #kili durin fanfiction #kili durin fluff

[winterwakesthewolf]

Wolves They Both Must Be

Jon Snow x Sansa Stark

Summary: “Did you bend the knee to save the North, or because you love her?”

Jon snaps his head up at Sansa’s question. Her eyes are brimming and hot and he can suddenly see this is not the argument he thought they were having. This is something else. Something deeper and much more intimate.

OR

The missing scene we deserved in 8x01

Author's Note: Part Two! I wrote this second part a few years ago and I really think I've grown as a writer since then. Since this part has never been published, I had the opportunity to edit it, but I read through it and honestly I'm too tired to do that so if there are any glaring issues, please let me know.

I first published the first part of this as a one shot on AO3 in 2019 and then a few years later I wrote a sequel that just sat in my google docs collecting digital dust. This is that second part. I may turn it into a series if there's enough interest so please let me know by liking, commenting, and reblogging if you want more.

Disclaimer: 18+, smut, (I'm serious, if you're not over 18 then scram), cousin incest, presumed half-sibling incest. Please let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 2K

part one - part two

Sansa wakes in his arms, bare skin against skin. It is still night. Or perhaps early morning. The fire has nearly extinguished, leaving them mostly in the dark but for a faint flickering of illumination that casts the room in a soft, warm glow. She glances up at him, sound asleep and looking more peaceful than she has ever seen him look. His arm strewn lazily across her back. And his heart, that he had said was only hers, steadily beating beneath her ear. 

She lifts her head to peek at the scar there and she runs her fingers along the ridges of the severed flesh - a long, vertical line, curved at the top and still red in the center. Similarly to the scars that marr his abdomen, they look to not be fully healed. Sansa wonders if they may never be. Her heart aches at the thought that his own had once stopped beating.

Gazing at his resting face in awe and bewilderment at the magic it took to bring him back to life, and to her, she sheds a tear for all that could have been lost, and all that will.

His raven curls, unbound and tangled, lay atop her pillow. Her belly coils with heat at the memory of her hands pulling at the leather strap that tied them back, at the image she conjures of him raised above her, glowing from the light of the roaring fire, and the look in his eyes as he buried himself inside of her, their flesh fusing in forbidden, long-awaited bliss. Her cheeks bloom with both shame and pleasure at the thought of their union. At her insistence that he spill inside of her and stay there long after both of their pleasures were drawn out, knowing in the morning she would brew a cup of moon tea that she had hidden away from the time before. 

The gods had been cruel to make her love her half-brother. They had been kind enough to make him love her back. 

In her solar he had confessed that he loved her, and only her. And how loathed he was to leave her for Dragonstone. That when he declared, in the presence of their bannermen, that the North was a part of him and that he’d never stop fighting for it, what he had meant in his heart was that she was his North. He admitted that every moment they were apart, she never once left his thoughts. And that everything he had done in the effort to return home truly was to save the North. To save her. His whispered words had sent shivers through her. Both the declaration of his love, and the thought of what kinds of things he had to do to return home to her.

She doesn’t want to think of what all that had entailed. Or what had transpired in the dark between him and the dragon to make her believe he truly bent the knee, and that he loved her. But Sansa wants to trust him and believe the words he told her in the quiet of her bed as he entwined his hand in hers. As he gently stroked his calloused fingers over her bare skin, leaving gooseprickles in their wake.

“I had to make her believe in the ruse, Sansa. I’m not proud of it,” he had rasped, eyes averted from Sansa’s gaze until she reached for him, turning his face so that she could look upon him. He released a shaky breath and croaked, “I’d beg for your forgiveness if you’re willing to give it. But I understand if it’s too much to ask. I wouldn’t blame ye. But I must confess, I thought of you. Every second.”

Jon had fought battles for Sansa, had fought Ramsey knowing the odds were against him. He fought the Others, and survived to come back to her. He had lied, manipulated, and kept the secret hidden away so convincingly, so deep, that even Sansa had not seen it. 

(Her feelings for Jon surely clouded her judgment, causing her to doubt his loyalty).

She doesn’t want to think of what he may have to continue to do to keep up the ruse, or what they both may need to sacrifice. But Sansa knows that whatever it may be, she will do whatever she can to protect him, as he has done for her.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she whispered. And she had meant it. 

Lying in the dark beside him she knows she will always mean it, no matter how much the thought of it stings. No matter the ache that blooms at the unbidden image of Jon with her. He had not truly been Sansa’s to lose then, but now… what were they to each other now? Now that they had crossed the point of no return.

Their love could never be known to any other. This secret they will always have to hide. If they were discovered it could lead to ruin and damnation. Northerners do not accept a union between siblings, no matter that they don’t share a mother. They were no Lannisters, nor Targaryens, and yet their illicit love seemed to prove otherwise. After all that she had learned, had worked so hard to not become, had she turned into Cersei after all? The thought makes her shiver and recoil. 

Perhaps she need not fret over any of it, for the Others are marching upon them. The threat looming, heavier with each passing moment. They may very well take this secret to a grave that lies just beyond the horizon. Lost to each other forever. And yet the thought of that terrifies her more than any possibility of their secret love being sussed out.

Jon stirs beneath her and flutters his eyes open, blinking to adjust to the dim light, and then he lowers his chin toward Sansa. His eyes soften as they land on her and he gives her a smile, sweet and tender, reaching his hand to gently tuck her tangled hair behind her ear.

“We fell asleep,” he says with a voice gruff and tender as he absentmindedly traces patterns on the small of her back.

“We did.”

“I’d better sneak off to my chambers before anyone realizes where I am.”

Sansa didn’t want this night to end. What had been their first union could very well be their last. 

As he moves to get up, Sansa gently pushes him back down to press her body and her lips as close to his as possible. The kiss, at first soft and slow, builds with passion, and desperation to stop time. Before long Jon has rolled Sansa onto her back and hovers over her just as before, looking down on her in wonderment and adoration. The look behind his eyes like an arrow of fire in her belly, and a need coils itself deep inside, begging to be met.

“Jon,” she pleads wantonly, reaching up to grasp his face in her hands, digging her fingers into his beard, weaving them in his hair. A frantic, desperate plea. He obliges, first by trailing kisses down her neck and to her breasts, spending time filling his mouth with them and driving that coil deeper and hotter inside of her, making her ache with need. And then he abruptly stops, pushes the furs farther off of the bed, until he is sitting at her feet, smiling with hooded eyes. The look she gives him of confused anticipation makes him chuckle.

“Why are you laughing?” Sansa sounds a bit wounded, but smiles all the same. 

“I’m not laughin’ at ye, Sansa. I swear,” he raises his palms as if in surrender. “But I want to try something if you let me.” Jon tenderly places his hands upon her knees, “Do you trust me?”

Sansa nods apprehensively, curiously, and watches as he spreads her legs apart and lowers his head, all while keeping his eyes locked onto hers. Kissing her knees and thighs in turn, he slowly travels higher and higher until his hands are gripping the flesh of her hips and his mouth is on her, licking the wetness between her thighs. It takes everything in Sansa not to cry out. Her heavy sighs alone are nearly loud enough for anyone outside of her door to hear. Jon’s tongue swirls and flicks at the most sensitive part and she has never felt a pleasure so intense. It rivals the pleasure she felt just hours ago when he touched her there as he spent inside of her. This was different and new and thrilling. She climbs higher and higher as his tongue works its magic, pushing her to the brink. And just as she is about to fall off the edge, Jon reaches up to take her breast in hand, his thumb grazing and teasing until she plunges off of the precipice and buries her face in the furs to muffle her cries. 

When the throbbing and the panting subsides, she glances at Jon, a very smug look upon his face, “Did ye like that?” 

Sansa smiles and nods lazily, still catching her breath, and she reaches for him with arms outstretched. He climbs up and kisses her deep and long, the taste of her still on his lips, and she can feel his need for her lined up at the spot his tongue had just deliciously ravaged. And suddenly she can feel the need inside her return in earnest. Those glorious flutters assault her belly as she wraps her legs around his waist and backside, pulling him close, inviting him in again. 

When he buries himself inside her once more, he keeps his eyes focused on hers, whispers a thousand I love yous that she returns in earnest, savoring the feeling of him so close to her as they find a slow and deliberate rhythm. 

Both of them know this might be their last and neither of them are quick to chase the pleasure out, but are intent on committing these precious few moments to memory. Tears stream down Sansa’s temples, sprung from somewhere deep and buried. Jon gently kisses them away.

“I am yours, Sansa. Only yours.” He touches his forehead to hers, “And you are mine.” It is half a question, half a command.

“Always,” she whispers and repeats again and again as she falls from the edge and he spills inside of her once more. 

The dawn arrives, creeping in through the window, as Jon dresses as quietly as he can. And once he has pulled his boots on he crosses back to the bed where Sansa is sitting, holding her knees and the furs close. She is cold without his warmth. He must sense it because he leans over to pull her close, bringing the furs with her, to the edge of the bed. He gently takes her face in his hands as she memorizes the look in his eyes. Kissing her sweetly, with such care and reverence, then envelops her in his arms for a long embrace. 

Sansa buries her face in his neck, breathing in the scent of him, heavy with leather and steel and woodsmoke. She curls herself into his chest. And as she listens to the beating of his heart beneath her ear once again, she doesn’t even attempt to hold back the tears anymore. Releasing the ache of the joy, and the tragedy, of it all. 

“Never forget, Sansa. Whatever happens, know that I love you,” he whispers in her ear, holding her close, running his fingers through her copper waves.

And before dawn can unearth their secret, he moves to kiss her forehead with a desperation and reverence that burns long after he reluctantly pulls away. He stalks toward the door, and then looks back at her with a smile full of hope and fear before slipping into the cover of darkness. 

Alone and cold without him, Sansa weeps upon the furs that warmed them through the winter night. Tears that she has denied for so long finally tumble free and flow without ceasing. They pour out uncontrollably, as though Jon had unlocked a deeply buried chest within her, filled to the brim with love she had for so long confined to the darkest parts of her, and fear of losing what has only briefly been hers. 

She finds that once unlocked she may never again find the key.

~

Taglist: @thaisthedreamer @bluedaffodil21 @ilargizuri

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa fanfic #jonsa fanfiction #jonsa fic #jonsa ff #jon x sansa fic #mine #my edit #my writing #wolves they both must be #wtbmb #jonsaff #jonxsansaff #jonxsansa #jon x sansa fanfic #jon x sansa fanfiction #jon x sansa ff #jonxsansa ff

[causenessus]

Quiet Nights. | Jacob Frye

jacob frye x reader

she/her pronouns

song recc: j’s lullaby (darlin’ i’d wait for you) by elaney bailey

word count: 534 words

short and sweet and not edited ♡ ⋆ ╰(´︶`)╯ ⋆ ♡

It is quiet on this particular night on the train.

Like the aftermath of a battlefield; after constant noise, it is too quiet.

His arms are wrapped around her waist, her back against his chest.

The eyes of the face resting on her shoulder are red and puffy.

He did not face her not because he was scared to be vulnerable but because if he faced her, he would break completely. 

“It’s not your fault, you know,” she whispers, relaxing farther back into his arms.

“I know,” his voice is hoarse and fragile. “I know they meant no harm. But it still hurts,” he nestles his face into her shoulder before he can break the train’s silence.

“Of course it does, Love. Because you didn’t do anything wrong,” she turns her head to kiss the side of his face, caressing it with a hand. “You’ve freed London and you’ve saved people. You’ve helped Mr. Darwin and Abberline amongst many others. They know how you work. They gave you the plan so that you could carry it out. All of our actions have effects, helpful and unhelpful. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve saved a lot of lives, Jacob. Evie thinks through her own plans because that’s how she does things. You do things differently and that’s fine. You learn in different ways because there isn’t one set way of doing something. You’ve both made mistakes but you’ve also saved people. Mistakes don’t cancel out what you’ve accomplished. You’ve done your best, something no one should ever tire of.”

Jacob removed his face from against her shoulder, returning back to resting his head on it. He interlaced his hands with hers to acknowledge her words before he spoke again, “I just don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t feel like I’m doing anything right.”

But her heart twists at his own, and for all the pain he had received in return for his help.  “Don’t let it get to you, Jacob. Don’t change who you are.  It’s almost over. Just the party. Then Starrick. You’ve done well,” she turns in his arms to face him, no longer being able to control herself. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she combs her fingers through his unkempt hair, feeling the way his heart beats quickly and body convulses ever so often, keeping his pain down. “Let it out, Love,” she says.

His arms wrap around her tighter, letting out only the quietest hiccups, but that was all he needed. All he needed to know was that he could take up space. That he could be himself and not be berated for it.

“But what will I do?” he asked quietly. He is a compass that has lost sight of true north. “I can’t do everything on my own. I have to work with them, but they’ll get angry at what I do. I’ll mess something up,”

“You won’t,” she reassures, running her fingers along his head. “And you’re not alone. I’ll talk to Henry about the plan. I’ll help you.” 

He nods, continuing to clutch her shoulder as he cries.

She presses a final kiss to his head, “You only need to keep doing your best.”

#jacob frye x reader #jacob frye #Assassin's Creed #assassins creed syndicate

[mistresslrigtar]

Chapter Twenty-four: Candles (written for @zelinktines24 day 24 prompt)

Read below or HERE

Zelda is quiet and reserved the days following their friends departure. From a brief conversation Link shared with her directly after Mattison’s party, before Zelda fell asleep, she confessed that enjoying a festive moment with their friends has triggered long slumbering grief for the previous Champions. It hadn’t helped matters when Link retrieved Mineru’s construct from his Purah Pad before Purah returned to Hateno and entrusted it to her, requesting she remove the secret stone without damaging the machinery. Mineru had fallen silent since they defeated Ganondorf, and Link assumes she’s moved on, but Zelda remains uncertain, claiming Mineru’s spirit would not leave without first saying farewell.

While they had a formal ceremony several years ago to commemorate their long departed friends, perhaps Zelda needs to recognize theirs’ and the ancient sages' sacrifices to save Hyrule. With that thought in mind, while Zelda naps, Link gathers the materials needed to construct floating lanterns. Celeste joins him in the rooftop garden, where he’s chosen to work, sprawling across the thin parchment that will comprise the sides of the lanterns, and soaking up the afternoon sun.

He soon becomes lost in the work fashioning twelve simple lanterns out of bamboo and parchment. Once complete, he picks up an ink pot and brush, that he has to pry out from beneath Celeste’s paws, and with broad strokes, paints the names of the sages and Champions in shaky, but legible Hylian calligraphy. It doesn’t help that Celeste continually paws at the brush in his hand or tries to drink the dirty water he’s set aside to clean the brush.

Link’s just pushing her away for what feels like the thousandth time and lifting the twelfth lantern, debating whether or not to paint Rhoam’s name upon it when he hears a scuff followed by a stifled yawn behind him. Looking over his shoulder, his heart thuds loudly in his ears when he sees a tousle-headed Zelda wearing one of his soft work shirts that reveals a goodly amount of her bare legs, standing in the doorway, a questioning look in her green eyes.

“What are you doing?”

Time seems to come to a standstill as he takes in how breathtakingly beautiful she is. From her small toes curling against the warm wood of the deck to her flaxen hair reflecting the late afternoon sunshine, she’s perfection in the flesh. Celeste bats impatiently at the forgotten brush in Link’s hand, pulling it from between his fingers, and splattering ink on his trousers. Growling softly, the kitten pounces to gnaw at the pointed end.

Zelda’s giggle draws Link from his trance. Heat courses through him and his cheeks flame when he realizes he’s still staring.

“I thought perhaps, you’d like to sail lanterns on Lake Akkala this evening, to honor our friends and mentors who’ve passed on?” Link belatedly answers.

Despite the tears that spring to Zelda’s eyes at his words, the corners of her pink lips turn up. “That sounds lovely, Link.”

Stepping closer, she kneels to scoop Celeste into her arms. He nods, his chest tightening as she rises gracefully with Celeste pressed against her shoulder and heads back to her room. It’s good to see her returning to the vibrant woman she’d once been, and Link hopes the lanterns will help lift more of the melancholy that still befalls them on occasion.

After an early supper, they walk hand-in-hand down the road to the north end of Lake Akkala. The butte atop which Tarrey Town sits has all but disappeared in the growing darkness, and the lamps in the windows and torches on the streets twinkle like stars in the night sky.

Link sets the lanterns just above the waterline, having decided to leave the twelfth one plain, to commemorate all the souls that were lost in the battles waged against the Calamity and Upheaval. Zelda follows after him, placing candles in the cradles within and lighting them. Once completed, they send each one adrift, offering up silent prayers to the heavens. The lanterns’ glowing soft light is reflected in the smooth glassy surface of the black waters. Sitting side-by-side on the sandy shore, Link and Zelda watch them float serenely away.

“I’m ready to pick our life back up in Hateno.” Zelda’s voice is barely audible over the lapping water, rustling leaves in the trees, and the restless crickets chirping in the long grass.

‘Our life’. The words kindle a long dormant longing in Link, fanning it into a roaring flame. Their shared life consisting of her students’ laughter in the morning, and lazy afternoons where Link dozed beneath the apple trees in the orchard while Zelda worked in her well study. Quiet evenings spent sitting on the embankment behind the paddock, listening to the soothing whickers of their horses, watching the sunset fireflies appear to dance amongst the trees. Reading by the fire for an hour or so before retiring to bed.

Looking over at Zelda, Link finds she’s studying him, a soft, shy smile gracing parted lips he yearns to kiss. Without a word he leans forward, gently cupping her face with trembling hands, and captures her lips with his.

#legend of zelda #zelink #the legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #breath of the wild #zelinktines24 #daily prompt #sailing lanterns

[frangipanilove]

"Home" is North o’clock

Through this entire first season on TWDDD we’ve seen Daryl on a mission to find a way to get back home. He’s been desperately searching for a functioning radio in every episode, and has managed to stay laser focused on traveling north, to find a way home. Despite constantly getting sidetracked along the way, he’s now nearing Le Havre, where the people of Union of Hope have promised to help him find a ship to America.

In TWDDD 1x5 Deux Amours we see Daryl, Laurent and Azlan make their way up the river, heading north, to The Nest. We get to know Azlan, whose story involves a tragic loss which took away his reason to live.

We also heard how a clock represented a turning point for him. It saved his life, he explains, and gave him a purpose to live. I took one look at that clock and realized it was the French equivalent to Beth’s DC spoon from 4x12 Still.

I’ve written a lot about the intersection between Sirius symbolism and North Star symbolism (here and here), and once again, in TWDDD Deux Amours, we see a representation of how “north” represents “home”.

In TWD season 5 we saw it explained by Carl to Judith; that if you’re lost at night, just find the North Star, it’s at the end of the Little Dipper:

Of course we all remember Beth picking up the DC spoon/Little Dipper in Still…

Daryls entire time in France has revolved around traveling north, to the place called The Nest, where he’ll deliver Laurent and get a ticket to a trans-Atlantic cruise in return.

When Azlan dies he gives the clock to Daryl, tells him to follow the river north, until they arrive at the place depicted on the clock, The Nest (which in reality is Mont Saint Michel). When Genet’s people catch up to Daryl and Laurent, Daryl gives the clock to Laurent and instructs him to follow the river until he sees The Nest.

So the navigational themes are strong around both the clock and Beth’s DC spoon. The DC spoon for obvious reasons; the North Star is at the end of the Little Dipper, as Carl explained. The North Star will help you find your way, it’s a compass in the sky.

Azlan’s clock on the other hand, is pretty much a regular compass, in that clocks can be used as compasses. I’m not making that up, a clock can be used as a compass. That is an actual thing that people do.

Basically, what we’re seeing here is that Azlan’s clock is synonymous with Beth’s DC spoon.

And remember how all of Daryl’s efforts of getting to the north involves constantly searching for functioning radios? He’s been talking about radios non stop since he washed ashore in Marseille.

Well, in 1x5 we finally saw him get a hold of a radio. It was in a flashback from right before he was taken aboard the French Research Vessel of Horror, where we also saw a character randomly named Grady!?!???

Totally side-eying that, particularly because we also met another dude named Juno, which @wdway brilliantly recognized as a reference to the Alaska state capital Juneau! Which, again, ties right into the north symbolism because of this license plate from 5x16 Conquer:

That’s the Big Dipper and Polaris (North Star) there on the Alaska state flag!

And remember how I in this post from last week talked about how tptb sometimes uses silly word plays as symbolism? Words and phrases that phonetically sound similar? Like serious/Sirius, beer/bear, Monet/money and the classic Del Arno Foods/"there are no foods"… (which was interestingly also taken from 5x16 Conquer, where we saw the Wolves luring walkers into trailer trucks, in a perfect parallel to what we saw in Daryl’s flashback from Maine,..)

Yeah, speaking of phonetical similarities...

In TWD 10x17 Home Sweet Home we heard Beth's name for the first time in a very long time...

Maggie has no reason to believe that Beth isn't dead so I wouldnt worry about that part. What's interesting is what she's calling her sister; Bethie!

If I was ever instructed to find a name that phonetically sounds like Bethie...

...Bessy sure as hell would be among my top contenders...

Bessy, as in the name the radio operator has assigned to his radio...

I have talked about how radios are Sirius symbolism, right? (that's a rhetorical question, I have talked about it ad nauseum)

And I think I have explained that Sirius means "return/resurrection/coming back" a couple of times as well...

Bessie the Radio sure seems to be well tuned into the symbolism around "returns" and people "coming back"...

You’re free to do with that as you please...👀

#bethyl #daryl dixon #beth greene #team delusional #team defiance #beth x daryl #the walking dead #twd #twddd #home #north star #beth’s dc spoon #the nest

[wearenorth]

While I was searching for one line from GoT, I stumbled on this one:

Link: https://www.quora.com/How-would-you-respond-to-Missandei-accusing-Sansa-of-not-showing-her-loyalty-to-the-Dragon-Queen-without-whom-they-would-all-be-dead

To sum up all those few answers to this question:

a) It was a private conversation between Tyrion and Sansa. Missandei had no right or was rude enough to interrupt and defend Daenerys.

b) Sansa was right. Tyrion chose to serve Dany, who sought to become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms; Sansa wanted the North to be independent. So that would have meant that they would turn into enemies.

Let's start with the topic. And it's correct. Sansa didn't show any loyalty to Daenerys. If anything, Sansa only antagonized and annoyed Dany, showing her no respect and courtesies, despite the fact that Dany is the Queen and person who came to save your asses.

But this line served as a reminder that Dany is the savior, after all. Missandei might still be a Kraznis slave, sold to someone else, or even dead, which is the most likely outcome. The same could be applied to either the people that Dany freed or those who chose to follow her. Even Tyrion, if Daenerys hadn't accepted him into her services, what do you think would have happened? Most likely drank himself to death. As for the North, without Daenerys, her dragons, and armies, they stood no chance. It's quite obvious, but it wasn't obvious enough to Sansa.

Also, it could go as a reminder to Sansa, who safely sat in the crypts, that Dany was out there fighting against the dead.

Now, as for those answers:

a) If you're talking loudly for everyone to hear in a closed space with many people around you, is it really still considered private conversation? Missandei heard it, and other people heard it too. The only difference is that Missandei called out Sansa for her bullshit.

b) I would never understand people who say that Sansa had every right not to want Daenerys to rule over the North and that Sansa had every right to want the North to be independent. You do realize how feudalism works, right? Actually, Sansa had no rights. That's not how it works. She's not above other northern lords. She's not above Jon, who is chosen as the leader of the North and as the King (or was, until he bent the knee), and Jon's words are the last: Jon bent the knee. This means that the North is not only Daenerys' subject, but that Daenerys is the Queen for Jon and Sansa too.

Also, Sansa is not equal to or above Daenerys in any way either. Sansa is Lady of Winterfell, thanks to Jon for giving her this title, but this doesn't make her ruler or leader of the North. Unlike, for example, Yara Greyjoy or Ollena Tyrel, who are leaders of their people or rulers of the kingdom, Sansa can't make any demands towards Dany that regard the North. 

If it's hard to process what I just wrote, well, here's a simple example: imagine you - the North - are admitted to the hospital. The doctor, Jon, who comes to check on you, says he doesn't have enough knowledge/resources to treat you, so he asks for help. Another doctor, Daenerys, who has enough knowledge/resources, agrees to treat you with the condition that you and Jon will be under her care and command.

This condition makes Jon to not agree, so he tries other ways and he finds one, that will require a lot of handwork. Daenerys, seeing Jon's devotion and all the hardwork, not only decides to help with this task, but also offers that she would help Jon to treat you without asking anything in return, especially after she just lost something very significant to her. Jon, after seeing that Dany is a good doctor and that she came to aid, even when she didn't have to, decides that Daenerys's condition, that you and Jon would be under her care and command, is reasonable and agree to it. So they decide to work together in order to heal you.

But then there comes someone from non-medical personnel, Sansa, who tells you that you should receive different treatment and that she should be your doctor, well, because she wants it. 

#anti sansa stark #anti stansas #anti sansa stans #anti d&d #anti got #daenerys targaryen #missandei

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

ch. 9 — behat (to promise)

notes: timeskip of a few months! also, guysss so ummm i really hate the last two chapters i wrote so i'll have to scratch them and start again... but im also in the middle of some pretty important stuff so yah. sorry about that.

summary: alethia meets thorunn. athelstan and ragnar talk about ragnar, promises are made.

warnings: mentions of depression, ppd and other mental health issues, ragnar is a bit of a dick tbh

tagged: @levithestripper @demon-of-the-ancient-world @grantairescurls

series masterlist | general masterlist

Alethia

It was getting colder in Kattegat. The temperatures had dropped in the past week, and Alethia could not help noticing that the days were shorter as well. But, there was a prolonged sense of gentleness within the cold days. Aslaug had given Alethia proper furs, Ragnar returned an old sword to her. She looked as if she was back in Winterfell, right after taking the castle back from the Boltons.

Sometimes, her heart tugged when Alethia thought of the North. Kattegat was similar to it, though the people were not. When Alethia woke up in Athelstan’s longhouse, she sometimes thought that she was back there, in Westeros. The thought seldom filled her with distress.

Still, Kattegat was a place that she thought she could call home. And as word spread that she was taken, that she really was Athelstan’s woman, Alethia had the sort of automatic respect she never did receive in England. 

That morning, she was the first free woman to push into the Great Hall. A few thralls were already working, setting the table and cleaning the floors. Alethia felt guilty each time she met the eyes of any of them. She was saving money to free them, but she knew it was a pointless endeavor.

But she and Athelstan agreed that they would never buy a thrall, or make someone a slave.

Hvitserk bounced up to Alethia before she could see him, crashing into her. Alethia stumbled backwards, landing on her back, and Hvitserk giggled, hugging Alethia tightly. While she was supposedly just a guard to Aslaug, Alethia had quickly become caretaker to Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd. Aslaug was too preoccupied with Ivar, and Ragnar…

Alethia lost some respect for him each time she thought on the matter. His three middle sons exhausted her thoroughly every day. It was not her responsibility, and yet, Alethia reveled in taking care of them, just as she had with Clothilda, Godwin and John in England.

“Are we going to play today?” Hvitserk asked.

“Like always.” Alethia promised. Hvitserk took her by the hand, pulling her to the table. He was always hungry, always the first to eat. Alethia had given up on trying to teach him any tablemanners, not that the Northmen took those particularly seriously.

“What are we going to do?”

“I was thinking of taking you hunting. Your brother’s skills with a bow have improved considerably, and Sigurd loves climbing the trees in the woods.”

“But it’s cold!” Hvitserk complained.

“Your mother bought new furs from the merchant three days ago. I’ll bundle you up so you stay nice and warm. And if your brother shoots a rabbit, you could have stew for dinner. How does that sound?” 

Hvitserk’s eyes brightened at the thought of his favourite food, and Alethia smiled. While Ubbe was responsible, taking himself quite seriously for a boy of eight, and would no doubt make it his mission to provide for his brothers tonight. Hvitserk, however, was the sort of playful that reminded Alethia of Rickon and Arya sometimes.

He was a wolf-child. 

Alethia hoped life would be kind to him. She tried to make it as much as she could. 

And Sigurd… however little the small boy liked to admit it, he was the one that took after his mother most. Already, Sigurd was drawn to bouts of anger and frustration, the only thing seemingly able to soothe him being when his mother sung to him. But Aslaug did not do that often.

Alethia sighed, handing Hvitserk a bowl of porridge.

“Where are Siggy and Thorunn?” she asked.

Hvitserk took a bite, gulping down his food without eating, before he answered. “I don’t know. Thorunn was crying again yesterday. She’s always so sad.”

“Okay. Do you know where she is?”

“No.” Hvitserk said. “I don’t really like her. She looks scary.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“You also look like her, but you don’t scare me.” Hvitserk continued anyway. “You aren’t so gloomy all the time.”

“I’m about to be very fucking gloomy.”

Hvitserk giggled, smiling widely as he saw his brother trudge towards the table. Ubbe was wearing a frown, hands rubbing his eyes.

“What is it, Ubbe?” Alethia asked.

“Ivar was crying again. I couldn’t sleep.” Ubbe complained. He climbed the bench next to Alethia. It did not escape her that he leaned against her, his hand searching for hers. Her heart broke a little.

“I will try to find something to help your little brother. And we are going hunting today.” Alethia said. “Is it alright if Thorunn comes along? I cannot take care of all of you at the same time.” 

Hvitserk frowned. “She’ll ruin it. She’s like Sigurd when he’s angry.”

“Will she be crying?” Ubbe said.

“Maybe.”

“I want her to be happy. She is our sister-in-law.”

“That’s right.” Alethia smiled. “Good job, Ubbe.”

“Maybe we can just send her back if she is very sad.” Hvitserk suggested. “Then it won’t be so scary to take her along.

“I promise you, you will have a great day.” Alethia said. “You two finish dinner, and help Sigurd get dressed, alright? Make sure he eats too, and give him some pears for his porridge. Ask the thralls for more in case you finish all the fruit. It’s important he has some. Can you do that?”

“I can!” Ubbe said.

Alethia ruffled his hair, and the boy hugged her quickly, before he looked away. Hvitserk stared up at her from his spot at the bench, before a cheeky grin appeared on his face.

“I hope you’ve gotten better at archery since last time.” he said, sticking out his tongue. Alethia raised her brows.

“Careful little man, or I’ll have to eat all the rabbit stew in the world by myself.”

Hvitserk’s insulted gasp was the last thing she heard as she slipped out of the Great Hall again. In the center of Kattegat, around the Great Hall, merchants were setting up their stalls. Alethia took note of one merchant who displayed little trinkets. As she stepped closer, her heart skipped a beat. There, amidst mostly worthless playthings and souvenirs, was a small collection of coins with what had to be Chinese symbols.

Alethia bought one of them quickly. She slipped the coin into her pocket, turning it over in her hand as she walked. 

Perhaps she could hide it somewhere, with a message of some kind. Perhaps archeologists would find it in a century. Then, she would have been here.

No. It was too dangerous.

Alethia stepped up to Bjorn’s longhouse. She knew that Bjorn would be away. He had been sleeping at Rollo’s house for the past two weeks, taking Siggy with him. Thorunn was alone here.

She knocked. There was nothing, not a single sound from within the house, but still, Alethia waited.

She knocked again. And again, there was nothing. But then, Alethia caught a quiet sniffle.

“I’m coming in now.”

No response. Alethia opened the door slowly, but closed it behind her as fast as she could. Inside the longhouse, it was dark, but there was a rank smell that permeated the walls. Alethia lit a candle, walking towards Thorunn. The girl was a little younger than her, and so similar to Alethia in so many ways. Alethia thought that, maybe, she could understand her.

If anyone.

Thorunn was backed into a corner like an animal, and as Alethia raised the candle, she cowered away. Alethia sat down a few steps away from her, putting the candle onto the ground. Thorunn shielded the scarred side of her face, knees drawn up to her chest. All she was wearing was a shift, and that was crusted with dark red blood. It was around her abdomen, and so, Alethia guessed that it stemmed from some kind of complication with birth. She tried to ignore the smell, tried not to focus on the way that Thorunn’s hair had turned into a matted mess.

Had no one taken care of her, Alethia would have been the same.

“Hello, Thorunn.”

“Who are you?” Thorunn asked. “Are you real? Did the Gods send you to mock me?”

“I am real. I am Alethia.” she said quietly. “Athelstan’s woman.”

“The priest has a woman?”

“Now he does.” Alethia replied. “And you are Thorunn, right? Bjorn told me all about you.”

At the mention of his name, Thorunn looked away. “He does not love me anymore.”

“I think he does. I think he simply does not know how to handle… you.”

“I warned him about that when I was still a thrall. He didn’t get it.”

“Lothbrok men.”

Thorunn’s expression changed. It wasn’t a smile, not yet, but Alethia was getting there.

“Would you like to come hunting with me? I’m taking care of Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd for today. I hear you’re good with a bow.”

Thorunn eyed Alethia suspiciously. “Bjorn set you up to this, didn’t he? He wants me to feel better about myself.”

“I don’t know Bjorn very well. All I know is that he’s an angry young man with a babe he does not know how to care for. You said it yourself, you thought the Gods sent me to mock you. I came because…  I had a feeling we were similar.”

“You’re not a monster.” Thorunn whispered.

“And what makes you one?”

“Have you seen my face?”

“Have you seen mine?” Alethia countered. “You have done nothing that would make you a monster.”

“I abandoned my daughter.”

“Not yet.”

“I don’t want to take care of her. I’m scared I’ll mess things up.”

“Every mother is.”

“Do you have a child?” Thorunn asked.

“I lost mine.” Alethia admitted. “I have no child that came from my own body, but I have been raising those of others, those that are lost for many years.”

“Can you raise my daughter?”

“You can do that yourself.”

“I cannot.”

“Yes, you can. Whatever I do for those children, it is never enough. I am never quite right. That is because I am not truly a mother, only a stand-in. And I don’t want that for Siggy.”

“I cannot do it. Look at me! She’ll grow up afraid.”

“Because of what? That scar?”

“Yes!” Thorunn cried out. “Do you not see what we are? How ugly and deformed we look?”

“Rude.” Alethia mumbled. “But I am loved. I know it. And not in spite of my scar, but because it is part of me. Bjorn will love you with or without it.”

“How do you know?”

“Just a feeling.” Alethia replied. 

“And what if I don’t deserve it? He’s the son of Lagertha! He could have anyone!”

“Your beauty does not make you any more deserving of love.” Alethia countered. She shuffled closer, and took Thorunn’s hand. “And even if we are monsters, are we not still women? We feel pain just as we feel love, and hate, and anger, and happiness. We are human, and therefore, we love. Let them point fingers. Dare them in your defiance of holding your head up high. Therein lies strength some will never understand. Do not let them take your spirit.”

“Them?”

“Those that would tear you down. You are a fortress, Thorunn. It is alright to feel weak, to want to hide away and never see the sun again. But the sun is beautiful, Thorunn. Outside is beautiful. Life is beautiful, just as it is terrible. You have a daughter, and you have the chance to raise her in a way that she shall always feel safe and loved.”

“It is so much.”

“I know it is. I am not asking you to feel alright. All I am asking is that you come hunt with me and the boys today. Let me help you. Let Aslaug, and Bjorn, and everyone else help you. I know asking for that help is hard, and so I will do it for you. All you must do is accept.”

Thorunn withdrew her hand, hiding her face in her palms, and for a moment, Alethia was afraid.

“Alright.” she said finally. “But I do not know where to start.”

“I do.”

Alethia stood, her joints aching as she did, and she thought that she was getting old. How silly, considering that she was only twenty. The thought of it excited her. Growing old! She never really thought she would, not even when she had still lived in her time. A life beyond twenty seemed unfathomable, and yet, here she was. Living. Breathing.

She took the bucket that stood in the corner of the longhouse and carried it outside, filling it with water. Returning to the longhouse, Alethia opened the shutters to let some light inside. It took time, but the wooden tub filled with cold water. When it was full, Alethia helped Thorunn up. She ignored the smell, the blood, the dirt.

Thorunn sat in the water, and Alethia threw the shift into a corner with dirty bedding and molding food. While Thorunn scraped the dirt off of her skin, Alethia took to work with her hair. Slowly, the mats disappeared. They weren’t as bad as Alethia thought they would be, and she thanked every higher power that Thorunn was a blonde, and not a brunette, where her hair would have been thicker, and likely impossibly tangled.

Alethia wanted to shriek as lice crawled onto her hands, and her scalp felt itchy while she flicked them off, crushing them under her boot. Using a comb, Alethia tried to rid Thorunn of the rest of them. Finally, she handed the other woman a towel, letting her dry herself while Alethia set out new clothes.

When Thorunn was dressed, the sun was considerably higher in the sky, and she looked like she was going to be okay. Hopefully.

“We’ll take care of the house later, but the boys are waiting for us. It’s almost noon already, and they’re likely fighting.” Alethia said.

“Thank you.” Thorunn replied. “I don’t know if I…”

“It’s nothing. I had help as well.”

“Can we be friends?” Thorunn blurted out. “I don’t really have… friends. I don’t think Bjorn counts – he’s more than that after all.”

Her eyes were so wide as she grabbed Alethia’s hands again, holding them in the space between the two of them. For the first time since they’d met, Alethia saw Thorunn smile. It suited her. As Alethia looked at her, she felt like a girl again. God, how she loved that. 

“Yes. I would like that.” Alethia replied.

Thorunn linked her arm in Alethia’s, strolling out into the street as if she was alright, and Alethia felt her heart beat in her throat out of happiness. She had a friend! How she’d missed that.

And Thorunn looked like she felt the same way.

Athelstan

Ragnar sat on the beach, watching as Athelstan drew up the walls of Paris. When he looked at Ragnar, Athelstan knew that his friend was somewhere else in his mind. Somewhere where there were no children, no wives, no kingdom, only Ragnar and the boat.

Then, Ragnar hissed through his teeth. “Tell me about Paris.”

Athelstan rolled his eyes. Paris, Paris, Paris. Since they’d returned from England, Paris was all that Ragnar wanted to talk about. “Again?”

“Please?”

Athelstan shook his head, smiling lightly. “I only went there once.”

“Continue.”

“I was visiting a monastery in Frankia, right outside of Paris, and one day, the monks there took me to see it.”

Ragnar had closed his eyes. He looked like he was sleeping, but Athelstan knew exactly what to say so that he would pay attention again. “But what I remember more, is the beautiful women.”

He had a feeling Alethia would not have liked those words. Alethia. Athelstan wanted to disappear into his mind, but then, Ragnar leaned forward with so much interest that Athelstan had to continue. “I almost… questioned my vows of celibacy.”

“You never told me that part before.” Ragnar said. And then, a wolfish grin appeared on his face. “Speaking of celibacy…”

Athelstan sighed. “Yes?”

“You and her… hmm?”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Athelstan lied.

“She lives in your house. You have to have done something . Or did you get a second bed, you sad, sad man.” Ragnar teased. Athelstan considered his choice of words for a moment.

“What do you think?” 

Ragnar squinted, blue eyes disappearing momentarily. “Two weeks ago.”

Athelstan could not help but laugh, and Ragnar’s eyes widened. “You did not tell me?”

“The night we returned to Kattegat.”

“AND YOU DID NOT TELL ME?” he shouted.

“I thought it unimportant.”

“Next you’ll tell me you plan to make her your wife.”

“I am, actually. Planning it, I mean.” Athelstan mumbled. Ragnar’s eyes widened slightly, before he huffed.

“Why? Why bind yourself in such a way?”

“Because I love her.”

“I love Lagertha. And yet, I never should have married her.”

“You and I, Ragnar, we are not the same.”

“I know.” Ragnar replied. “Then you have my blessing. Though Kattegat does not have a church, so I do not know how…”

“She would refuse to marry me in a church. The Christian way, it binds her too much.” Athelstan shrugged. “It would have to be a Norse marriage ceremony anyway.”

“Good. Good. And now you have to tell me, what did you do when… you know?”

“Well, we uh…” Athelstan began. He knew he was reddening. At the same time, there was the warm feeling of satisfaction at the base of his stomach when he thought back to that first night. And all the nights that followed. “We did it, and then we did it again.”

Ragnar rolled his eyes. “You are such a Christian sometimes.”

“What is it precisely that you wish to know?” 

His friend’s eyes gleamed, and Athelstan regretted ever saying anything. “Has she ever gotten on her knees for you?”

Athelstan’s mouth turned dry. “I’m not- I am not answering that.” He stuttered out, and Ragnar laughed.

“I knew it. She’s corrupting you! My Athelstan, corrupted by some godless girl from England!”

“She is not from England.”

“No? Where then?”

“It is… complicated.” Athelstan sighed. “I suppose the land is comparable to Eastern Frankia.”

“Perfect. Then she’ll know how to help us with Paris.”

“Ragnar, no.” Athelstan said firmly. Ragnar froze, before he turned to stare at Athelstan.

“What do you mean, no?”

“Do not involve her in your raiding plans. Don’t. Do not offer her to plan it, to come to Paris, or to fight. I will not be your friend if you do.”

“You’re afraid she’ll die.” Ragnar mused. An itch of annoyance spread through Athelstan. Ragnar was being too unserious about this.

“No. I know her body would survive. But… if she goes to Paris, she will not come back the same. She has fought enough, Ragnar. And I suppose, in that way, you and her are the same. I know you take no joy in it anymore.”

“I am a Northman, of course I take joy in it.” 

“You do not have to lie to me, Ragnar. And I know I do not understand, but she will. You can talk to her. Many soldiers have.”

“What does she do with them? Some magic ritual? Or maybe she is a witch, and sleeps with them to wipe their memory and make them her slaves?”

“You’re trying to rile me up. You don’t believe in any of that.”

“Well maybe I do.” Ragnar said, raising his hands in mock defeat.

“Stop it.”

“Alright, fine. What does she do with them? Why do they go to her if not for… her womanly charms?”

“I hear she listens to them. Not that you need that, Ragnar. You talk so much anyway.”

Ragnar snorted, but Athelstan could see the emptiness behind his eyes. He knew that Alethia would be talking to him tonight.

Then, his friend scratched the back of his head, quickly changing the topics again. “So, marriage. What comes next? Children?”

“I haven’t thought about that.”

“But you want it.” Ragnar noticed. His eyes bore into Athelstan’s, and it felt as if he could read his mind.

“I do.” Athelstan said. There was something in his heart that ached when he thought of it. His own family.

“Perhaps your sons will fihgt alongside mine one day.”

“I want daughters.” Athelstan blurted out. “I want them to be like her, like Lagertha, like Siggy when they grow up. Like Aslaug and Judith.”

“Why?”

“Because they are stronger than we are.”

Ragnar paused for a moment, before he looked down at the sand. HIs hands dug into the ochre, disappearing below the surface that rippled like the ocean.

“If I do have a daughter…” Athelstan began. “I want to name her Gyda.”

When Ragnar looked up again, there were tears in his eyes.

Alethia

Thorunn was smiling by the time that dinner was being served by the thralls. Alethia watched as she talked to Aslaug, Sigurd tugging at her hand. Alethia was glad that she had gotten to help her. The look of deference slowly disappeared from Thorunn the longer she spoke to Aslaug, and, when Bjorn entered the Great Hall, trailed by Lagertha, who had Siggy in her arms, Thorunn did not turn away.

Alethia sighed with relief, picking up Hvitserk, who was attempting to fight Ubbe over her shoulder.

“If you want to hit your brother, try not to hit my head as well.” She told Hvitserk. He had the audacity to pout, crossing his arms before his chest.

“And why are you two fighting anyway?

Hvitserk only shrugged, stomping his foot to emphasize his point. Alethia tried to bite down the laughter that bubbled up her throat.

“He’s your brother, Hvitserk. I know Ubbe can be overbearing, but he means well.”

“Fine. I won’t hit him I guess.” Hvitserk complained. “I’ll play with Bjorn instead.”

When Athelstan walked into the Great Hall together with Ragnar, Alethia could not help but smile at him. Athelstan turned her way almost immediately, as if he was a dog that could sniff her out.

Ragnar followed Athelstan as he made his way towards Alethia, and now, Alethia was a little concerned. Ragnar never bothered talking to her.

“Hi.” Alethia said, and Athelstan hugged her without another word. He was uncharacteristically quiet, even for him. 

“He’s planning a raid.” Athelstan whispered in the hug.

“It’s okay. Thank you.” Alethia replied. She let him go, smiling amiably at Ragnar.

“Your sons are admirable hunters.” She said.

“I’d hope so.” Ragnar replied. His tone was so dry, so flat, so uninterested, that Alethia felt reminded of her own father.

“It wouldn’t hurt to take some interest.” She hissed. “They notice that, you know.”

Ragnar raised a brow, looking over to Athelstan as if they were sharing some kind of inside joke. Alethia was glad that Athelstan did not try to reciprocate his all-knowing smirk.

The king of Kattegat stared at Alethia a moment longer, as if he was trying to read her soul, eat her heart. Alethia tried not to look away as best she could, but when Ubbe tugged at her hand to gain her attention, Alethia did not care enough to continue their little contest. 

Ubbe was holding out a bowl of stew, filled with the prizes of their hunt today.

“Thank you Ubbe.” Alethia said. “Would you like to eat with me and Athelstan today?”

Ubbe nodded shyly, and Alethia patted the free space next to her. Athelstan sat, taking a bowl of stew out of the hands of one of the thralls. Alethia ate quietly, waiting until Athelstan had finished his quick prayer. It was the kind of domesticity they could only begin to afford.

Alethia’s hands found purchase in Athelstan’s and as she looked to him, she had a moment of peace between lifetimes of war. Athelstan was quick to kiss her cheek, before anyone could catch them in their little display. Alethia’s hand stroked his jaw automatically, and Athelstan smiled at her with such adoration that she thought she might die.

So much, for her. God, had there ever been a sweeter joke?

She ate her stew, and Alethia knew that, months earlier, she would not have tasted it. But there it was, and it satisfied her. She wasn’t hungry anymore.

There was a thought in the back of her mind, one that Alethia had not thought explicitly, but one she thought she’d known about for a while. She smiled at Athelstan, who did not know.

Later, Alethia helped Aslaug settle Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd down. The hunt had exhausted them, but they were brothers, and in such, always found a reason to fight. Aslaug had only a tired smile to spare Alethia as the three of them had finally fallen asleep. Ivar was still in Aslaug’s arms.

“Thank you.”

“I enjoy taking care of the boys.” Alethia assured.

“I meant Thorunn, and me. We did not want to ask for…” Aslaug began. “You have a place in my queendom.”

“And I shall defend it as if it were my own.” 

Aslaug smiled, nodding at Alethia as she made her way out of the Great Hall. It was starting to darken in Kattegat, and Alethia’s hand was never far from her belt. Athelstan’s longhouse was on the outskirts of town, where it became quiet. Alethia knew it was there not only because of the tranquility, but also because the forest reminded him of home.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alethia caught Ragnar, staring at her from afar. His eyes were unfocused, and Alethia knew he wanted something from her. Comfort, perhaps. 

In Wessex, Alethia would have opened her home to him. But Hagar had been nothing, had had nothing, and Alethia had used up all of her energy today already. She wanted to go home, to Athelstan. 

“Tomorrow.” Alethia called.

Ragnar jumped, as if he had not expected Alethia to speak to him. Then, he nodded through the fog that had to cloud his mind. Alethia closed her eyes, breathing out. Whatever Ragnar carried with him, Alethia knew it hurt. She had watched the king enough to know he felt about his crown the same way that Jon had. 

She did not feel guilty forgetting about that when she stepped into her and Athelstan’s house. 

And there he was, sitting at the desk, charcoal scratching over parchment.

“What are you drawing?” Alethia asked.

“You.” 

Alethia smiled, hugging Athelstan while leaning over him. She put her chin on his shoulder, her own face reflected on the parchment. It was her from a few days ago, hair still wet from swimming in the bay of Kattegat. Alethia knew that it would be the last swim she would take for a while. It was getting too cold for her to swim.

Winter was coming.

The thought of House Stark’s words no longer made her heart ache for Jon. There was the dull echo of a boy she’d loved as a girl, but no more. Not when Athelstan was right there with her.

Athelstan seemed to read her thoughts. “When it gets cold, we’ll be forced to spend more time inside.”

“The boys will be a lot.” Alethia sighed. 

“I was thinking… with all the time we’ll be spending inside,” Athelstan began. “Could you teach me? Your language, I mean.”

“Why?”

“I want to love you in your language.” Athelstan said. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before he pushed his chair back and stood in front of Alethia. There was a trace of fear in his eyes as he looked at her. 

“What is wrong?” Alethia asked.

“Nothing.” Athelstan replied. “Nothing at all. But, the truth is, my reasons for learning your tongue are more selfish than not.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I want to sing to my children in the language of their mother. If she’ll have me.”

Alethia’s mouth turned dry, and suddenly, her heart was beating in her chest. It was kissing Athelstan the first time all over again. “What are you saying?” she whispered. Athelstan’s hands grabbed hers a little more tightly, and he let out a shaky breath.

“Will you marry me?”

The sound Alethia let out was a half-laugh, half-sob, half-squeal. She threw herself around Athelstan’s neck, laughing. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you, and I’ll have you. Just as you are, speaking my language or not.”

Athelstan enveloped her, hands holding her tight, safe, warm. His lips brushed her cheekbone, dusting a kiss there where a scar split her face. Alethia felt loved.

#vikings #ivar #hvitserk #history vikings #alestan #heorte til heorte #alethia stahl #athelstan x alethia #alethia x athelstan #athelstan #vikings fanfic #athelstan x oc #history vikings fanfic #athelnar #ragnar lothbrok

[dickarchivist]

Okay because I have 0 self control, I have asks for everyone 👀 don't feel pressured to answer them all though! I just couldn't decide lmao 🖤❤️

Ghost: How far would they go to save someone they love? Would they sacrifice themselves? Others?

Phantom: What do they regret the most?

Wraith: what little regrets do they have?

Specter: Do they try to prevent unnecessary suffering?

Banshee: What haunts them?

Athena: What's their moral compass like?

Dax'Malkin: When have they been unable to save someone or something no matter how hard they tried?

Let's get fucked up.

Ghost: Ghost would *never* ever ever sacrifice someone else, but he would *always* sacrifice himself for the sake of someone else. He is deeply caring and protective, and he'd rather bleed or even die than let someone he loves be put in harm's way. He'd put himself between any danger to protect his family, he wouldn't hesitate, never again.

Phantom: Tom's biggest regret of all is pulling the trigger on his blaster and briefly ending Athena's life during Order 66. When she finally finds them in hiding, he spends the rest of his life protecting her. There's a lot Phantom thinks he's unforgivable for, but Athena's end is the thing he regrets more than anything.

Specter: Despite his hard and rude exterior, Specter will go out of his way to stop the suffering of others. He sees a loth/trash Cat with its head stuck somewhere? Free the cat. A kid wants a sweet but can't afford it? He'll steal it or buy it, give it to the parent for later, or the kid right then. But it goes both ways, it's not just for soft things... he'd end the life a creature if it couldn't be saved and was suffering. He's done it before, and as much as it pains him, he'd do it again. Anything to stop the suffering.

Banshee: I actually answered this one here, but the summary is this: on a mission to save refugees, a kid was killed under Banshee's protection. If he ever has a kid, he'll name his kid Jaia in their memory.

Wraith: I could write a book on Wraith's regrets, he is so nervous and anxious. His top three little regrets are:

1.) Getting drunk with his brothers and letting Phantom talk him into his one and only tattoo.

2.) That time he accidentally exposed himself to a very powerful aphrodisiac and spent several hours jacking off because he needed it to be OVER.

3.) Shaving his head when he was a cadet because other cadets kept pulling his hair or hiding things in it.

Athena: Athena's moral compass always points true north. She believes in kindness for the sake of kindness. That when someone is in need, you help them. That people are inherently good, no matter how bad they seem, there is some good in them still.

In other words: she is pure of heart and it shows.

Dax'Malkin: oh God. OH lord. Jesus christ. Okay. Alright. Here we go. We're gonna go chronologically.

Krazus. Dax'Malkin's twin brother. He never recovered from that and believed the jedi who saved him that Krazus was lost to them forever. They were just boys...

Vann Cree. Dax'Malkin's adoptive son, and younger brother to Annika Cree, his adoptive daughter. One month before the end of the clone wars, Annika and Vann were captured, and tortured for information. Vann didn't survive.

Annika Cree. Nika, or "Annie" to Dax and Dax alone, is still alive. But 3 days before the end of the clone war, when she finally returned to the jedi temple with her brother's body, and her lekku cut from her head. After all the torture and trauma, asking the council to help ease her pain, ease the loss of her brother and her first ever padawan as a master, she was met with "He is one with the force now, there's nothing more to be done." Dax wasn't there for Annika. He couldn't save her, or her brother, and when he felt Annika fall to the dark side, he never forgave himself for that. Even when he was in his own darkness, he never let himself forget how he had failed his children.

#from the archivist #grave squad clones #clone oc ghost #clone oc phantom #clone oc specter #clone oc banshee #clone oc wraith #jedi oc athena bello #jedi oc Dax'Malkin #oc ask game

[bee-a-garbage-shipper]

Game Of Thrones Fanfiction List

Bequeathed from Pale Estates By Author376

In a Westeros where Soulmates are bound and Marked by the Gods to bind Houses together and pay blood debts, Lyarra Snow and Oberyn Martell are about to get a shock…

Winter Thorns of Highgarden (FF | AO3) By Madrigal_in_training (FF | AO3)

The knight's supposed to save the princess from the dragon but here, the princess is a dragon, the knight is a bookish lord, and the greatest threat is either the old lady in the blue wimple or the honorable warden with the Ice sword. Because no one thought a second Stark girl would be kidnapped for marriage or that the sensible Willas Tyrell would be the one to kidnap her.

Incandescent (FF | AO3) By Madrigal_in_training (FF | AO3)

In a moment of grief-stricken madness, Catelyn Stark attempts to murder her husband’s bastard. Yet her entire worldview shatters when Lyarra Snow refuses to burn. Fem!Jon, Lyarra x Robb

A Golden Age By margotdavid (FF | AO3)

At her father's request, Alysanne calls the banners and marches south. For what reason, she is not sure, but as she meets the lions on the field, Alysanne finds that she was more fire in her blood than she though. Tywin Lannister is seeing his house crumble to the ground because of his daughter. Worse, a wild girl just defeated his army. But when the face of Rhaella Targaryen appears in front of him, he makes a gamble that might just save his legacy.

A Song of Vengeance (AWOIAF | GOT | AO3) By IWantColouredRain (FF | AO3)

15 years ago, the Targaryens were forced into exile by the rebel alliance of the West-Stormlands-Vale-Riverlands... and Dorne. To ensure the loyalty of the hostile North, Aly Stark was wed to King Robert's closest friend, Oberyn Martell. Now, after 15 years, the wolves and dragons' pieces are in place, and they will have revenge. (Role Reversal.) Martell Centric. Hiatus

A Song of Marked Souls (AWOIAF | GOT | AO3) By IWantColouredRain (FF | AO3)

In a world where magic remains strong and the Old Gods keep active in the lives of their followers, Alyssa Snow and Oberyn Martell bear Marks that, according to the ancient gods that lurk in the weir woods, destine them for greatness. (Fem!Jon Snow. Not for Tully fans. OOC!Characters)

Princess of Wolves, Prince of Snakes (AWOIAF | GOT | AO3) By IWantColouredRain (FF | AO3)

After the Lions' coup, Aegon VI flees with his wife, mother, uncle and cousins in search of allies and safety in order to regain his throne. But there is only one place to go: The Winterlands, the only part of Westeros to remain independent of the Iron Throne. Hiatus until summer

The Star of the North (AWOIAF | GOT | AO3) By IWantColouredRain (FF | AO3)

Just when Lady Alarra Stark feels she has no escape other than death, she finds another option in the form of a Dornish viper and his elegant paramour.

There and Back Again (FF | AO3) By Naerys Blackfyre (FF | AO3)

After the events of season 8, Jon of House Targaryen is sent back in time to fulfill his destiny as the prince that was promised. Jonsa, Gendyra, RhaeLya, Anti-Dany, Dany fans beware. AU! NOT ANYTHING LIKE CANON!

Father of Dragons (FF | AO3) By Naerys Blackfyre (FF | AO3)

"How did you know of this chest Sam?" Jon's eyebrows were drawn together in a frown. "Hummm…oh uh well Maester Aemon told me to give this chest to you when he died. He said that you would most likely be in need of them." Sam answers with a shrug. Jon stared at Sam with a frown painted on this face. What could Maester Aemon possibly wanted to give him? Jonsa, Gendrya, Braime, RhaeEliaLya, Anti-Dany

Lost Girl By prussianblues

She leaves the Seven Kingdoms a bastard and returns a queen.

Or, Joanna Snow is in King’s Landing when Cersei seizes the city, and Varys sneaks her out to meet her brother. A meddling Magister later, she meets Daenerys as well.

A story told in drabbles.

To Go Forward By togo

Jon Snow wakes up in Winterfell, two years in the past. He struggles with his knowledge of the upcoming wars, the mystery of his mother's forgotten letters, and the prophecy of the Prince That Was Promised. How much time does he have until the Others invade Westeros?

A Second Time Around By ratclanqueen

"I know this is hard for you to understand but we have already lived this life once. The Gods are blessing us. I saw this before the Night King broke through the Wall. We have been reborn into our bodies before Jon Arryn's murder with our memories and knowledge of what could possibly lie ahead," Bran told them.

When all of House Stark wake up one morning with their deaths being their clearest memories, the wheel begins to turn. The game has a new player in the form of Sansa Stark, the Red Wolf of Winterfell and the Queen in the North before her death, who is determined to see her family grow old and happy in Winterfell and the Iron Throne melted to a puddle of metal at her feet.

Dragons of Red, Dragons of White By NightDrake

After the Duel on the Trident, there are ramifications that none could foresee. In the world built afterwards, dragons once again rule and roam Westeros, among them the son of a northern beauty and the king. Prince Jon and his kin, Stark and Targaryen alike, face new challenges from both without and within. Whatever the future holds, the Seven Kingdoms will learn that, whether in a coat of red or a coat of white, a dragon still has claws.

Manners and Misunderstandings By mostlyclouds

The Stark sisters have travelled all the way to London to begin their first season, leaving behind the familiar world of Winterfell Hall and a disappointed Jon Stark- with whom the eldest Miss Stark has been convinced to break off a connection. In London they join family friends the Baratheons and the fashionable young Tyrells in a world of romance and balls.

Meanwhile Gendry Waters has been plucked out of the life he knew to become his ailing father's heir, Robb, Theon and later Rickon embark on military careers in the Napoleonic wars, and their aunt Lysa makes a foolish marriage.

When tragedy hits the family, they must come together, learning how manners may hide monsters and the best people are often those misunderstood by society.

The Conquest By DolorousEdditor

An AU of grand scale inspired by a prompt by Oblongata.

Three hundred years after Aegon the Conqueror built a new empire on the ashes of the Valyrian Freehold the known world is a place of war. The Targaryen Empire is pressed by enemies, the Seven Kingdoms war amongst themselves and forces contrive to pull them all apart.

Amidst all this are a prince and princess who fear themselves ruined by the horrors they've endured. Together they might be the hope their people are looking for. More importantly, they might be the dream both abandoned long ago.

A Caged Songbird By bikadoo

“I will be a silent, and dutiful wife,” Sansa spits. “I will be their pretty little songbird, and wear their ugly crown, and sit on their painful throne. I shall give him a babe, and my love, and I will wait until he thinks that he has won. And then I shall take his life."

Shae goes still. "You ... you plan to kill the King?"

"No," Sansa says. "I plan to kill my husband."

A Knight's Watch By DolorousEdditor

Jon Snow is forbidden to take the black by his father. Instead he sent to squire for a famous knight, beginning a long arduous journey that causes him to cross paths with characters he never would have. Along the way he learns truths long hidden and discovers love in the most unlikely of places.

All of this in the shadow of the War of Five Kings and the coming of the Others.

#asoiaf #asoiaf au #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #🐝's post #my fic recs #asoiaf fic recs #asoiaf recs #recs #jonsa #jon x sansa #sansa x jon #fem!jon #s: jonsa #s: starkcest #age gap ship #minor adult ship #s: joberyn #s: robbjon #s: willjon #s: aejon #s: tyjon #s: jobellaria #s: oberoc #8 out of 18 are jonsa

[befooremoonrisee]

stannis baratheon is such an underrated and misunderstood character. he is the literal definition of a middle child, always overlooked and ignored.

since he was a child, he was overshadowed by robert's strenght and renly's charm. he lost his parental figures and his older brother went away to the vale. he had to step out and act like the lord of storm's end.

then, the robert's revolution happened.the storm's end's siege started and he bodied the targaryens. he was barely an adult and he managed to keep the castle during years despite all the adversities and his lack of charisma as a leader. he was like 18 and he fought until the end, never giving up. he was an essencial part of robert's victory.

stannis has daddy issues. he just needs to be reassured by an older male figure, but he never got that. his brother was away, parents dead and then robert came back and he was an asshole. he not only overlooked him as lord's of storm's end, but he humiliated him by having sex in his bed during his wedding. he grew resentful, but he was always loyal to robert until the end.

he was a sad, lonely man whose only true friend was an ex-smuggler, not the type of person you imagine a lord associating with. he was wedded to a woman he did not love nor respect and his only daughter and heir, the only person he loved, was almost killed by a toy he bought. his life was always full of tragedy, resentment and self-pity.

he was the perfect person to be targeted by a cult and so he was. he was completely brainwashed by melisandre and the religion of r'hllor. imagine if all your life you have been the second choice, the one no one likes, that dude who is only kept around because he is useful and then a beautiful woman comes to you and tells you you're the chosen one and your fate is to save the world from complete destruction, who wouldn't have become a religious fanatic? melisandre was giving him the respect and appreciation no one gave him before.

he singlehandedly defeated renly and joffrey with just one death. and that death broke him even more and made him madder. he just killed the brother he practically raised and that was the point of no return. if he wasn't azor ahai renly's death would just be for nothing. the war he was fighting would be for nothing. all the death, all the suffering would just be for nothing.

he was possibly the best strategist and military man in the war of the five kings. tywin is just ruthless polician, not that good in the battlefield, he was constantly beaten by 16-year old robb stark. robb stark was a talented warrior and strategist, but he lacked the experience. renly was just vibes and balon greyjoy was an old man with dellusions of grandeur.

however, by no means is he innocent, he killed people in a horrific way, but he was brainwashed by a cult. he burned people and children alive, but he thought that those deaths had a purpose. what is the life of one person compared to the survival of the human race? he was not the only monarch in westeros to sacrifice people for the greater good. dany uses fire as a means to punishment and she sacrificed a person to give birth to her dragons. aegon v killed half of his family trying to get back the dragons, but we don't see those deaths that badly because we understand the endgame. dragons are needed to defeat white walkers. stannis believes he is needed to defeat white walkers.

i think most of the misunderstanding that comes with stannis comes from two places: he has the charisma of a stick and we are never in his mind. we witness his mistakes and tribulations, but we don't see why he makes that decisions. the character see him as a self-righteous prick and that's how we see him, but ned was also kind of a self-righteous prick, but he had certain middle-aged-dad charm and we were with him, we understood him.

stannis is the only king who says "fuck the iron throne i have more important stuff to deal with", he gets his shit together and he heads north to try to help the night's watch with the white walkers. no one else did that. no one else gave a fuck. just him. and book!daenerys won't be so eagered to help north immediately because she will have her own dance of the dragons to deal with, fighting the only kingdom who has a dragon body count. stannis will probably be the only king who sticks around to help in winds of winter.

stannis' fate in the books will be sad, he will probably have a horrible demise. probably in his death he will realise that all the people he burned alive was for nothing and his conscious will make him feel immense pain. he will die knowing that he lost himself trying to fulfill a prophecy that was never meant to be his. because prophecies in the world of ice and fire only bring pain, misery and death.

disclaimer: i don't condone any of his actions, i just think that he's more complex and interesting than most people give him credit for. and every girl deserves to have her middle aged villainous character she will defend until the end.

another disclaimer: in this house we stan book!stannis, if he kills shireen just for defeating the boltons, he's dead to me. (i think he will burn shireen but like for a battle against the white walkers, like a last resort kind of thing).

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #stannis baratheon #robert baratheon #shireen baratheon #house baratheon #renly baratheon #davos seaworth #game of thrones #stannis baratheon was the rightful heir to the iron throne #stannis baratheon apologist #my poor meow meow #sad middle aged men #kendall roy core #sorry for my english #if he was hot everyone would love him

[littleladymab]

Still Waiting Duology (a wip intro for @moon-and-seraph's WORDS INTO POTIONS March event)

Genre: Fantasy (low fantasy, magic and second world, but only humans) Summary: After graduating from the country's most prestigious magical academy with no real interest in signing up for a tour of "border patrol", Cateryn drags her best friend and duel partner Jigar to tour the country with her -- hoping that maybe her restlessness will finally settle. She has no home to return to, and no idea of what a future is supposed to look like. When one year threatens to become two, they finally stumble upon three people whose struggles resonate with Cateryn's: Raif, who lost their father, their wife, and their future to one torrential storm and decided to leave home to save their mother the trouble of an heir who couldn't uphold the family name; Kira, a seer whose powers resulted in xir becoming a political prisoner when xir home was invaded; and Arris, Kira's husband who was helpless to save his employer and suffered at the hands of the occupying force before he could get himself and his spouse to freedom.

For the first time in a long time, Cateryn finds herself wanting to stay in one place and to open up to the people around her, even though Jigar thinks they should keep moving on. Because the two of them are destined for great things, he likes to say, but she knows what is best, and he's content to stay with her. Except for the past has a way of catching up with everyone, and they all find themselves dragged into political responsibilities as the neighboring country is getting agitated with an increasing number of border disputes, and rumors of something more than the usual bandits roaming the south.

And when Cateryn's past involvements with her father's spirit magic come back to haunt her, she has to decide if she wants to accept that part of her, or reject it and everything that comes with it before its too late. Etc: writing tag || pin board

My goal this month is to finish the outline for at least book 1 if not both books, and to GIVE IT A PROPER TITLE. And, between this and SD, hopefully write 4 chapters/about 10k.

Main Cast

Cateryn Caddis-Dowell (she/her); between 24/28; skilled at offensive/battle magic || playlist

Raif Van to Yuen-ha (they/he); between 28/32; dishonored heir to the Yuen-ha family; mediocre alchemist || playlist

Jigar Soru (he/him); between 26/30; skilled at defensive magic; "self-taught" spirit mage || playlist

Kira Dittmar (xe/xir); between 23/27; diviner/seer who would like to be retired || playlist

Arris Dittmar (he/him); between 29/33; sword for hire, just happy to be here! (he doesn't have a playlist yet I'm sorry)

Snippet

Raif didn’t even bother trying not to look miserable. If their mother wanted to make a spectacle out of their humiliation, then she’d have to do it with a sulking heir.

“Which part of this is the worst?” Cateryn asks, startling them out of their reverie.

“Pardon?” they ask in return, straightening their posture just a bit now that they’re the center of someone’s attention.

She gestures to the ballroom. “It’s the taffeta, personally. I am sweating like it isn’t the dead of winter in the north, and everyone can hear me from a mile away.” She says it low, conspiratorially, and they can’t help but laugh. “Ah, there it is.”

“The key to the taffeta’s undoing?” they whisper back, reaching out to ruffle her skirt. It whish whish whishes loudly beneath their touch.

“No, your smile.”

They snort into their wine glass. “Please, Cateryn, you don’t need to skulk about with me because you feel sorry for me.” It’s hard to keep the bitterness from their voice as they mirror her gesture towards the room. “My mother isn’t trying to humiliate you.”

They don’t mention how they noticed the way Aiden had been doting on her all evening despite this being a party for him.

“Is it wrong of me to want to keep you company?” she asks innocently. “You know, better yet, want to get out of here?”

Raif pauses with the wine glass against their lips. Leave the party early? Without saying hello, yes, I’m well thank you, yes I miss Linna and my father terribly but I’m sure Aiden will do a splendid job where I’ve failed as a child, but at least I don’t have to be my mother’s son anymore — Aiden can do that, to every one of Uyen’s friends?

The thought sends a frisson of rebellious delight through them, and they pass their half-finished glass to a nearby server. “More than anything,” they say, and Cateryn answers with a grin.

She takes their hand — in front of their mother, the family gods, and everyone — and tugs them towards the exit on the far side of the ballroom.

Uyen doesn’t call after them, but Raif can feel her disdain follow them into the hall.

#ms: wip intro #m+s: wip #still waiting #a lil miss original #lil miss writings #p much all the more recent stuff for this has been on patreon #so nothing really to see in the tag #I've committed too much to Raif's mom being named Uyen despite how i hate that it's Uyen Yuen

[mirkwoodshewolf]

IATCOD Chap. 28; Plan in motion

*Author's note*

This was a chapter long in the making due to life getting in the way but I finally got around a week ago to finally get this chapter done. Not a lot of action in this, just some plot settings to get ready for the main action that'll happen the next few chapters. But I hope you all enjoy this chapter no matter what. And yes I had to use the death whistle from Puss in boots the Last wish so credit goes to Dreamworks for that. 

NEXT CHAPTER

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@queen-paladin

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@thats-s0-ravenn

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

_________________________________________________________________

After Cain had returned back to Hela's chambers and told everyone what Druig had suggested, there was silence in the room. Everyone pondering in concern, fear, and denial.

"And you're sure there is no other way?" asked Gandalf.

"It has worked one other time. With Fili and Kili sons of Dis, nephews of Thorin Oakenshield. Hela gave to them the very gauntlets she wears that holds our kins celestial stones. When Sauron took full control over her body, the stones used both their bodies as a host to banish Sauron's spirit from her very body before releasing them."

"Bofur and my uncle Oin did tell me that tale when I was still a lad. Never before had they been both in awe and struck with terror at the sight of what happened that night."

"I too was there when it happened. Never would I have thought that two Dwarves could hold the power of nine Celestial gems and live." Said Legolas recalling that night at Bard's house.

"But Merry still needs time to heal. He's not ready." Proclaimed Pippin worriedly.

"And the raw power of a Celestial's stone is nothing to be trifled with. I have seen what gripping a celestial stone can do." Aragorn said with a distant yet horrified look in his eye as he remembered one incident with some wild men in the North when they came to take out the remaining members of the Dúnedain.

The chief of the wild men had foolishly thought he could take Thena's stone for himself to enhance his weapon's strength and durability. But when he went to take the stone from Hela's gauntlet after ripping it from her arm, his body began to crack and burn like firewood.

His screams sounding like something both unholy and holy at the same time. His eyes became soulless white and gold until his body exploded into a pure light before Hela managed to contain Thena's stone once again.

"How do we not know that the same could happen to Merry if he takes hold of Druig's stone?" continued Aragorn.

"He wouldn't have suggested Merry if he didn't feel some sort of connection to him. Trust me Aragorn, I don't like this either but we are running out of options and out of time." Cain said as thunder rumbled once again and the red lightning began to flash in the sky once more. Cain and Aragorn turned to Merry and Aragorn said to him.

"The choice is yours Merry." Everyone turned to the hobbit who still looked exhausted from his Black breath recovery. Merry slowly stood up, Pippin tried to help but he held his hand out to refuse help. He slowly walked to the center of the room and said to everyone present.

"Since starting this quest back in the borders of the Shire, Pip and I had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. But even then I didn't care, all I wanted was to see Frodo away from the danger. Only to find out that he must bravely face the danger himself to destroy the biggest threat to our home. And Sam, loyal hearted that he is, he willingly without a second thought vowed to go alongside Frodo even if it costs him his own life. Boromir died to save Pippin and I. Without a second thought, he kept bravely fighting until his last breath took hold. I have lost—many of my friends, and thousands-nay millions more all over Middle Earth will suffer if Hela is not awakened. If there is a chance to free her from her curse, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to play my part in saving Middle Earth."

Everyone took to heart of what Merry had to say. He walked back over to Druig's stone and called for him once again. The black onyx stone glew bright until a golden light shot out once again and appearing before him once again was Druig.

"You have made your decision." He spoke down to the young hobbit.

"I have." Replied Merry.

"Then what say you, Meriadoc Brandybuck?" Merry took a deep breath before exhaling through his nose and he said.

"How do we save Hela from herself?" A slight grin came across Druig's face then he told Merry.

"Take my stone within your hand, once you feel the full strength of my power coursing through your body, press the stone to the crown of your head. And we shall become One mind, One body, One soul."

"You both shall become one? But will Merry still be there? Your soul won't overwhelm his?" asked Pippin.

"He has accepted the terms young Peregrin Took." Druig said turning towards the other hobbit. "Time is of the dire most essence now, and we must bring her back now before it is too late." Druig's spirit then shot back into his stone and the glow of the stone faded.

"He's right Pip. If we're going to do this, it has to be now. If Hela is truly dying from this spell, Druig and I need to act now. And we've already lost a day already." Merry and Pippin looked at each other then after a moment of staring at each other, Pippin gave him a nod.

"Pippin, come join us." Cain said as he took out his knife and he slide the blade across his palm. Pippin walked over towards the others who were now starting to huddle on the other side of the room.

Using his blood, Cain drew along the floor a Celestial rune circle to protect everyone within the tower from any Celestial power outbursts. Everyone stood within the circle while Merry stood over the table where Druig's stone rested.

He turned to the others as Cain now began to wrap his wounded palm and he gave the young hobbit a strong nod. Merry nodded to him and took a deep breath as he reached out and took the stone within his bare hand.

As he grasp the stone into his palm, Merry's arm began to slowly crackle open like lava seeping through Mount Doom itself, he fell to his knees in agony as the power of the Mind celestial began coursing through his veins. But he kept a firm grip on the stone as well as holding his enclosed fist with his free hand.

The group watched in despair as Merry was forced to endure this pain alone. Pippin softly whimpered and said.

"We have to make him let it go! He's hurting can't you see he's in such agony!"

"No Pippin, we cannot interfere at this point." Gandalf warned him as he held him back.

"Merry?" cried out Aragorn. Merry continued to grunt and cry in agony.

"Merry talk to us." Cain ordered. As Merry continued to groan and pant in agony he finally spoke up.

"I'm fine. I'm alright." Slowly he raised his enclosed hand as he felt the full power of the Mind Celestial coursing through his entire body. But even with such power coursing through him, it was causing the gem to feel so heavy, he could barely lift his own arm.

However Merry knew he had to do what Druig had told him. Using his free hand, he guided his enclosed fist towards his head and with a cry, he open his palm and pressed the stone into his very head before a flash of light and wave of red energy shot out hitting the barrier but knocking down all the furniture in place. Then Merry fell onto his back with a thud and Druig's gem embedded into his very skin.

"MERRY!" cried Pippin as he ran through the barrier. Everyone crowded over him but Cain warned them.

"Don't move him!" Gimli held Pippin back as both Gandalf and Cain knelt over the unconscious Merry. Cain used his enhanced senses and could hear Merry's heart beating normally. "His heartrate and breathing is normal." Gandalf waved a hand over Merry's face.

"And his spirit is still in-tact." Suddenly Merry's eyes shot open but they glowed the same golden light that Druig produces whenever he used his mind controlling abilities. Cain and Gandalf backed away as did everyone else as Merry now stood up but there was a difference to the way he stood. He looked down at his hands and he said.

"I almost forgotten what it's like to have an actual body."

"Is that you Druig?" asked Cain.

"No, it's Sauron. Of course it's me." He turned over to Pippin and said, "And don't worry Pippin, Merry's still here. I just need to take control when performing the spell. However I do need to request something of you all. Performing this spell, requires my full concentration and power. Both Merry's body and Hela's will be completely defenseless, so someone needs to stand guard over us in case time runs out." They all turned to one another before Haldir spoke up.

"I'll do it." Everyone turned to him and Haldir said as he looked to Cain, "It's what Hela would've done for me." Cain nodded.

"I admire your heart and loyalty to my sweet Hela, but you'll need a better weapon than your own. Take Aeglos and place the tip of the blade to Thena's gemstone. It was once the host of her powers, and should any Deviants come to the tower seeking her or my power, you'll need the power of the Celestial of War to aid you." Druig told him. Haldir nodded then Merry walked over towards Hela.

He stood over the head of the bed and placed his hands on each side of Hela's temples. Golden light emanated from his palms and bounced between his palms and Hela's temples which also began to glow. Soon the small glow from Merry's eyes grew bigger until his whole eyes were nothing but a pure golden light.

"It's happening. Now it's up to him and Merry. The rest of us will continue to get the people down below and prepare for the Deviants as well as the Celestials of Sauron's attack." Said Cain. As the others began to leave the tower leaving Haldir alone, Cain said to him, "Haldir," the march warden turned to him. "Take it from someone who has tasted vengeance for over 2 Ages. When Nergal shows himself, do not engage him alone. You will wait for us to aid you in taking him down, understood?" Haldir turned his head with a narrowed, hateful look in his eyes. "Understood?" Cain asked in a firmer tone.

"Go help the others in getting the people to the lower levels of the city. They've suffered enough at the hands of a leader who could care less about them." Haldir said as he went over and took Aeglos from Hela's side.

Cain turned but had a suspicious look on his face as he left to join the others to help evacuate and prepare Gondor for the oncoming Deviants.

Within Hela's mind, both Druig and Merry walked through a dark chasm with the only light coming from the very floor they walked upon. However the floor itself was a sea of souls glowing a pure blue light.

"Is this really what's inside Hela's mind?"

"We're only at the gate. Everyone has their own unique gateway into their subconscious." explained Druig.

"So what is it that we're looking for?"

"A tree. A very large tree."

"A tree?" asked Merry unsurely.

"Being the Mind Celestial I've come to see that in everyone's mind, no matter the race or species, the gates of their minds hold a very special tree to which I've called them the Tree of Life. Each branch representing a person's memory or thought. It's what makes them the person or creature that they are. And if my hunch is correct, Hela's tree may not look like it once was." As they treaded through the ankle-deep water, Merry began to grow weary of the souls that were moaning and weeping.

"Who are all these people?"

"The souls that had been lost but could not move on. Remember Hela is the bridge between the Seen and the Unseen world. Souls pass through her in order to move onto Mandos' halls, even under this spell they continue to come to her. But they're trapped here until she gives them her blessing."

'You are correct.' A voice spoke up. The boys stopped and Druig stood in front of Merry protectively as a spirit soon raised itself up from the water before taking the shape of King Theoden.

"Theoden King?" Merry gawked.

"Hello Meriadoc." He then turned to Druig and said, "And you must be her twin brother Lord Druig. Hela told me many stories of you and your sister Makkari the Speedster when I was a lad." Druig nodded and Merry said.

"Theoden King, we're looking for Hela's Tree of Life, can you take us to it?"

"I can but I must warn you. The spell that has imprisoned not only us but Hela herself has grown too strong. If you dive too deep into her mind, you too may also suffer the same fate as she."

"That's a risk we have to take. I won't leave here without knowing my sister will be okay." Answered Druig firmly. Theoden's spirit looked at both of them as Merry gave him a strong nod.

"Very well." He faded back into a spirit ball and began the light to guide them through the darkness and towards where they needed to go. Eventually they came upon a grand willow tree that stood nearly as tall as Treebeard himself, but just as Druig had thought, the lush green vines had been dried up and were starting to crumbling.

Within the vines were small thought bubbles that would normally be as bright as bubbles should be, but they were now dimmed and grey with faded memories hazed over.

"This is Hela's Tree of Life?" asked Merry.

"Yes. But it's worse than I imagined it would be." They walked up to the tree as Theoden's voice spoke to them.

'Remember, dive too deep and you too may suffer the same fate as she. Though I do hope you are successful in returning our Hela home. Good luck.' His spirit then dove back into the sea of souls. Merry walked up to the tree and touched the main trunk. He could feel just how malnourished the tree was.

"Any ideas on how we can fix it?"

"It's not up to us, it's up to Hela. Only she can mend her own Tree."

"But how are we going to find her?" Druig walked around Hela's tree until he had found what he'd expect to find. Glowing in a haunting green and black aura of magic was a large mushroom that was attached to one of the roots of Hela's tree. The light pulsating and almost sounding like a heartbeat but what had Druig in awe was the mushroom was showing a vision much like Hela's thought bubbles on the vines of her trees had.

"I think I might have found her." Merry came around and knelt down beside him. The two of them stared at the mirrored image of what looked like a large green pasture (much like the Shire) and Hela was out folding laundry. "You ready for this?"

"Let's do it." Answered Merry. Druig took his hand and together with their free hands, they reach out and touched the mushroom all while their eyes glowed a pure gold. The second they touched the mushroom, the black and green aura shot out like lighting trying to fend off Druig's and Merry's touch. Both the Celestial and the Hobbit groaned and cried out in pain but they kept a firm hold on the mushroom. Until they were encompassed by the green light.

"Merry? Merry! Wake up!" Merry's eyes shot open and he saw Druig kneeling over him. "Easy there halfling." Merry held his head in pain as he let out a small groan.

"What happened?"

"We got absorbed by the curse and sent into this false world. I must say I'm impressed by your mental stamina, any normal person would've crumbled by now. Think there might be a future for you being a Mind Celestial." Druig held his hand and helped Merry onto his feet.

"Hela once said I would make a clever one."

"And for myself I can see why she said that." Merry gave a slight smile before asking.

"Now that we're here, how do we find Hela? This place is nearly as big as the Shire."

"We just start walking. Hopefully we'll come across her. And we may just find out just what exactly this curse is doing to her." The two then proceeded to walk once again onward this time through the peaceful green pastures.

Back in the real world, Cain was standing along the very edge of the city where Denethor had leapt to his death. He could sense the very change in the air from the darkened clouds, the difference in the lightning and the very air seemed denser as if a dark spell had once again been placed over all of Middle Earth.

"We've gotten the last of the civilians gathered in the lower caves. And Faramir and Gandalf finally managed to work out the protection spell Hela had made for the city. It should be up later tonight." Aragorn said behind him.

"With all that Denethor allowed to happen, this city doesn't need to suffer twice at the hands of a bigger threat than orcs, trolls and wargs." Said Cain. Aragorn stood beside him and said.

"They'll find a way to bring her back."

"It's not bringing Hela back that I'm worried about." One look on Cain's somber face and Aragorn knew what he meant.

"You fear for Haldir's mental state at losing Hela."

"Grief—is a powerful feeling. Especially if it's fueled by rage. I may not be able to physically see his eyes but I can sense his heartbeat. His deep, sharp breaths through his nose, and the anxious ticks he's now been having at the tips of his hands, especially since he took hold of Aeglos."

"You fear he might turn into what you became." Cain solemnly let out a deep sigh. Aragorn placed a hand to Cain's shoulder and he told him, "He may not know it now, but he'll need your guidance before the end. Who better to understand what he's going through, if you can find the way, he will too before the end."

"I hope so Aragorn, I really hope so." Aragorn turned and headed back inside the palace leaving Cain to stand alone once again. However Cain felt a dark presence behind him and he withdrew his axe and his blade soon met with another and a voice said to him.

"You can even sense Death coming for you. Impressive."

"Deimos." The two of them uncrossed their crossed their weapons. "Why are you here?" Cain sneered lowly in the tone he's always used for those who were impure of heart.

"Apologizes for interrupting your little brotherly love session with Isildur's heir, but I had to come see for myself what wasteful plan you all have tried to come up with to save yourselves." Deimos chuckled sinisterly.

"You underestimate them. Even in their darkest hours, until there is no hope remaining, the Fellowship and the people of Gondor will continue to fight till their last breath."

"It's a waste. You cannot save them from the inevitable. Without Hela's power, the Deviants will take each race of Middle Earth, one by one until all is nothing but shadow and stone."

"And what do you three get out of all this in the end? If all is meant to be shadow and stone, what will you and your brothers do?"

"What Perses and Nergal want is up to them. I, however, have a different score to settle." Cain heard as Deimos unsheathed his second sickle. "As I'm sure you're aware, each Celestial while cut from the same cloth based on one's powers, there are the Celestials gifted with sub-level powers. A power solely focused to one main power."

"Yes. Like those celestials who could only control one element, or be able to see into the future."

"Hela had her time to be the high Celestial of Death, but she missed the whole point of her existence entirely."

"How so? By teaching that death shouldn't be feared? That it is another path to the next life."

"That! That right there!" Deimos snarled in distain. "You actually believe that death is a merciful, that it's something to be fully embraced and accepted like how you view Life. No, no, no. Death should be feared, uncertain, and permanent." He emphasized on the word permanent as Cain could feel his red eyes cutting right through him.

"You've come for me." Cain realized.

"Now you're catching on." Deimos then began to circle around Cain like a predator, eyeing him as he continued, "When you were brought back by the desperation of your brother Ikaris, you didn't value what he had given you. And while I find the very idea of resurrections and reincarnations absurd, what I loathe more than anything in this world are those who think they can cheat Death."

"As you said, it wasn't my choice to be brought back to life."

"You don't think I don't know how throughout the first 100 years of your banishment you tried to end your own life? And yet with each time, you survived."

Cain's heartbeat escalated, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, a cold chill ran up his entire body. He could hear the blades of Deimos' sickles cut across the cobbled stone beneath them.

"But here's how we can rectify all of this. When the time's right, I will come for you, and you and I shall face off in a duel to the death. See who truly has the blessing of the Valor on their side. You do that, and I swear to not harm a single hair on anyone else's heads."

"You really think I'll trust you to do that? After the way you beat Haldir and Hela nearly to death."

"A mere demonstration for what I have in stored for you. They were just so I could get to you. You agree to fight me, and death will only come for you." Deimos then let out a soft yet haunting whistle and when Cain turned around, he could sense that Deimos was gone, only hearing the brief whistle before it too was silenced.

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Almost as if he had been strung up on strings, he collapsed to his knees, his heart still racing in such fear that he only felt when he came before the Nine Nazgul.

In Hela's mind, Merry and Druig continued walking along the grassy over hills until they came to a quaint little cabin. To Merry it almost resembled Frodo and Bilbo's home of Bag-end with a similar green circular door but it was a big-people sized home.

It had a small front deck with a porch swing, and the front yard was covered with wild flowers. A gazebo that looked exactly like the one in Lothlorien stood at the side of the cabin.

"Is this what Hela dreams about?" asked Merry.

"She was never one for riches or grand castles. When we were children, she always said she'd get herself a cabin and plant wild flowers as far as the eye could see." Said Druig. "But even so, this is still a prison so don't get swept by whatever you see. Remember Theoden's warning." Merry nodded as the two of them soon heard the sound of arrows being twanged from an bow around back. They heard the arrow hit a target so they came around to see someone who looked like Haldir doing some target practice.

Instead of the normal Marchwarden uniform or even armor, he donned on a simple dark green tunic and grey trousers. Haldir notched another arrow into his bow and released it and it split the arrow that was already in the target.

"Can he see us?" Merry quietly asked.

"No. This is an illusion, they usually can't see nor hear us."

"Even if this were an illusion, we Elves can hear the flutter of a humming bird's wings 10 leagues away." Haldir actually responded to them. He turned towards them and greeted with a warm smile and a bow of his head, "Welcome Merry, and back already Druig? It's not even been 20 minutes since you left." Merry looked up at Druig worriedly. While Druig's eyes expressed shock, he turned to Merry and told him telepathically.

'Just follow my lead.' Druig cleared his throat and said, "Well you know how it is. Big brothers and all, can't leave you two alone for one second."

"Even after all this time we've been married, you still can't trust us alone. Though I can understand, being an older brother myself. What can I do you both for?"

"We're actually here for Hela. Is she in the cabin?" Merry asked the Haldir illusion.

"Unfortunately you won't find her in the cabin. At this time of the day she's down at the farm just over that hill. What do you want with her?" there was a hint of suspicion to this fake Haldir's tone but Druig plainly said.

"Just received a message from Keoghan about the Midsummer's ball tonight. Apparently Kingo once again burned the cake and they need Hela's help since she is the best baker out of all our kinsman."

"Very well. But I must warn you, one of the cows just recently gave birth. She'll be on the fight if you anywhere near her pen."

"Thanks for the heads up Haldir. Good day." The two of them bowed to Haldir the Mind Celestial bow before heading over the hill where Haldir said the farm was at. "Tell me you caught the way he got suspicious on why we needed Hela."

"I did. There was also something in his eyes that gleamed the same color as the spell that shot out around us when we touched that mushroom on her Tree."

"You are indeed a clever hobbit Master Merry." They soon came up and looked down at a large farm. With large shire horses running freely around the wooded area in the back, large mountain dogs helping log around eggs, crates of apples and corn, and ducks and chickens waddling about the farm grounds.

As they walked through the farm grounds, they heard soft humming coming from the stables. They slowly walked in and soon found Hela brushing a white stallion's mane humming softly.

"Hela?" Merry called out to her. She jumped and smiled.

"Merry, this is a surprise. I wasn't expecting you till next month for Pippin's birthday. And Druig, back so soon. Let me guess, you thought Haldir and I were having another sweet rendezvous at the gazebo that you walked in on just shortly after we began courting." At that openly suggestive statement, Druig's cheeks went red as he said.

"No but thank you for that unholy image that is now seared into my brain." Hela giggled and said as she stroked the stallion's nose. "So what brings you both here?"

Merry turned to Druig wondering if they should break it to her now since looking at her, it seemed like they had found the real Hela. Druig was torn because the last time he had seen his sister this happy was when they were children. After Sauron came fully into power by the time the three of them came of age, Hela always held such a burden on her shoulders. Like the weight of the world fell on top of her weighing her down and taking her innocence away bit by bit until all that was left was a hollowed shell.

Here she seemed—happy, relieved even. No wonder why she's refused to awaken from such a dream. But he knew she had to, but they had to approach it delicately at first.

"Keoghan reached out to me halfway on my journey telling me that Kingo burnt the cake for the midsummer's ball again." Hela let out a sigh and shook her head.

"That Kingo, he can put on a show with Sprite but when it comes to drawing or cooking, he's hopeless. And I thought Apollo had banished him from the kitchen?"

"He did, and that banishment is still in affect but you know how Kingo is."

"He always finds a way." Both he and Hela said together. "Sorry Snowmane, afraid this grooming session's gonna have to be cut short." Snowmane huffed and let out a shocked whinny. "Don't blame me, if I don't go stop Kingo, he could blow the whole castle up." she got out of Snowmane's stable and walked pass Druig and Merry. "C'mon, we better get a move on. I'll have to tell Haldir first of where I'll be heading."

"Actually we just told him that before we came to find you." Merry said.

"Oh well okay then. That's one less thing to worry about." As they stepped out, Hela raised up her fingers and let out a sharp, loud whistle that almost resembled an eagle's scream. They waited for a bit until finally a real eagle's cry was heard and swooping down was Hela's great eagle Icarus. "Hey Icarus, think you can carry Merry to the palace?" he let out a soft trill before lowering himself down for Merry to climb on.

Druig nudged the hobbit forward and Merry raced up and with Hela's help, mounted on top of the great eagle.

"But what about you?" asked Druig.

"Why would I need Icarus to fly?" Hela's normal dress soon morphed into the Starlight Celestial armor. "Being born a Starlight Celestial, I never need aid in flying again." As Hela shot up onto the air like a shooting star, Merry and Druig looked at each other worriedly before Icarus soon took off following behind his mother and Druig used his levitating powers to fly right beside Merry and Icarus.

Another night was passing even through the dark, thunderous clouds that covered all of Middle Earth. Gandalf, Aragorn and Cain all stood along the balcony near the throne room as Cain said.

"One more day to go, and the Deviants will return to Middle Earth."

"Any word of Merry and Druig's progress?" asked Aragorn.

"I had just met with Haldir, no changes." Gandalf replied solemnly. "I know Merry is strong and Druig is powerful but I fear they may not bring our Celestial of Death back in time."

"We still have time." Aragorn stated. "All we can do now is give Merry and Druig the aid they need. We've coded the protection spell, the second we see those demons appear, we activate the spell."

"It won't just be the Deviants we'll need to worry about. Nergal, Perses and Deimos will also need to be stopped. I fear their goals are more than just what Sauron had intended for them. And if they try to stop Merry and Druig from helping Hela, Varda help us all." Cain said as thunder once again rumbled in the sky and red lightning flashed in the sky.

#lord of the rings #lord of the rings imagines #lord of the rings fandom #lord of the rings fanfic #lord of the rings imagine #lotr fandom #tolkien fandom #aragorn x reader #aragorn x oc #aragorn imagine #aragorn imagines #haldir fanfiction #haldir of lorien #haldir x oc #haldir x reader #haldir imagine #haldir imagines #legolas greenleaf #legolas x oc #legolas x reader #gimli #merry brandybuck #pippin took #legolas greenleaf imagine #legolas greenleaf imagines

[jackoshadows]

"You," Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, "will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon."-  Eddard, AGoT

He rose and dressed in darkness, as Mormont's raven muttered across the room. "Corn," the bird said, and, "King," and, "Snow, Jon Snow, Jon Snow." That was queer. The bird had never said his full name before, as best Jon could recall. - Jon, ADwD

Contrary to general fandom assumptions about Arya Stark, marriage and marriage proposals show up several times with respect to Arya Stark of Winterfell. The betrothal and marriage of Arya Stark in the story (for Arya herself or for her proxies) highlights and emphasizes on Arya Stark as a Key to the North and Winterfell and her bond with Jon Snow.

The first time a marriage is seriously considered for Arya Stark is when Catelyn betroths Arya to Elmar Frey, the 22nd son of Walder Frey, in return for the use of a bridge. Elmar being a 22nd son meant that there is no land or title in it for Arya Stark and Robb would have to settle his sister and her husband in the North.

More importantly though, for Needleheart purposes, what’s interesting is that Elmar Frey is rumored to be Black Walder’s son and hence a bastard.

So Arya is betrothed to a bastard, has a friendship and the beginnings of a possible romance with another bastard Gendry. Arya rejects her betrothal to Elmar (‘I hope your princess dies’) and thinks that Gendry is no longer part of her pack because he wants to stay with the Brotherhood. Given GRRM’s love for the rule of three, there’s one bastard waiting at the Wall for her who just ended up dying for her and thinks her home is wherever he is.

Weddings are a big part of the Northern plot in ADwD and Arya Stark is involved in every single one of them! Thinking about it, she really is the Key to the North in every sense of the word considering how much she is essential to the plot and character arcs of several of our main characters in the North.

The first wedding that occurs is that of Jeyne Poole masquerading as Arya Stark and Ramsay Bolton, in order to give legitimacy to Ramsay being Lord of Winterfell and Roose holding the North as Warden of the North. This sets off a cascade of events in the North, with some houses and the mountain clans allying and marching with Stannis Baratheon in order to save Ned’s precious little girl Arya Stark and overthrow house Bolton once and for all.

Word is send to the Wall of the impending wedding and sets off another cascade of events with Jon Snow, conflicted between keeping to his oaths and wanting to save Arya. In the process, Jon refers to Arya as his heart a couple of times and his arc here embodies GRRM’s oft mentioned ‘The Human heart in conflict with itself as the only story worth telling’.  Melisandre convinces him to send the King Beyond the Wall to rescue Arya, which leads to the infamous Pink Letter and Jon’s decision to attack Winterfell and the current Warden of the North, in effect destroying the neutrality of the Night’s Watch.

The second wedding is that of ‘ a girl in grey’ fleeing a marriage - Melisandre assures Jon it’s Arya fleeing Ramsay Bolton and heading to the Wall.

“The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you.” “I have no sister.” The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? Melisandre seemed amused. “What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?” “Arya.” His voice was hoarse. “My half-sister, truly …” “… for you are bastard born. I had not forgotten. I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. Coming here, to you. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will.” - Jon, ADwD

It turns out that the fleeing girl in grey is not Arya after all and that Melisandre has mistaken Alys Karstark for Arya Stark because they are similar in looks (Alys has the long face and brown hair, with blue-grey eyes. The Karstarks descended from a branch of House Stark). Jon quickly turns marriage broker and arranges a wedding for Alys with dancing and food - a bright and hopeful event in comparison to Jeyne/fake Arya’s wedding to Ramsay Bolton. Jon compares Alys’ smile and bravery to that of Arya’s, refers to his heart again and calls her a ‘Winter’s Lady’.

And finally, Stannis Baratheon sends word to Jon at the wall, and informs him that he intends to marry off Arya Stark to one of his Lords or a Northern Lord presumably after winning over Winterfell and killing Ramsay Bolton.

We are five thousand strong as I write, our numbers swelling every day. And word has come to us that Roose Bolton moves toward Winterfell with all his power, there to wed his bastard to your half sister. He must not be allowed to restore the castle to its former strength. We march against him. Arnolf Karstark and Mors Umber will join us. I will save your sister if I can, and find a better match for her than Ramsay Snow. You and your brothers must hold the Wall until I can return. - Jon, ADwD

Worried about Arya being used as a marriage pawn, Jon ironically wants to send her to Braavos, free of political entanglements.

Nor was he about to turn her over to Stannis or Melisandre. The king would only want to marry her to one of his own men, Horpe or Massey or Godry Giantslayer, and the gods alone knew what use the red woman might want to make of her. - Jon, aDwD

[Something to note here is that Jon has no qualms in brokering a marriage for Alys Karstark for political gain and yet does not want the same for Arya. And yes, Arya is much younger than Alys and still Catelyn was betrothing Arya to Elmar Frey way back in AGoT, when Arya is 9. Jon wants none of that for an even older Arya]

Something else to consider is that all of Arya’s betrothals and weddings - fake or otherwise - has her in the North. Her marriage to Elmar Frey would have seen her settled in the North on land given by Ned/Robb Stark. Stannis wants to reward his Lords with land/castles/titles in the North by marriage to Arya Stark. Fake Arya Stark marries the Lord of Winterfell to give legitimacy to the Bolton rule over the North. And the ‘girl in grey’ who Jon assumed to be Arya ends up marrying a Thenn from beyond the Wall and creating a new house at Karhold in the North.

So, betrothals and weddings surrounding Arya Stark greatly influence the plot in the North and drives Jon Snow’s story at the Wall. And while all this is happening Arya herself has no idea of any of this! She is unaware of her betrothal to Elmar, unaware of Ramsay’s marriage to ‘Arya’, unaware of Jon trying to save a ‘girl in grey’, unaware of Stannis wanting to marry her to one of his lords. Arya really has no idea how important she is to the North and how at this point a version of Arya Stark has married or come close to marriage.

And as always, with the rule of three, maybe the third wedding will be that of the real, grown up Arya Stark and this time the real Arya Stark will have agency and get to choose her partner, someone she loves, has always loved and wants to marry, a future full of hope and rebirth. A Dream of Spring.

#Arya Stark #Jon Snow #Needleheartwinter #asoiaf #Brides and marriage