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dany-is-my-queen · 3 years

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Born To Be Yours | Part Xl

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 1,375

Note: Hey guys!! It’s been a year since I started this series and I was really excited to continue, I really was. But months flew by and my life began to take a different course, now, I can’t make promises that I’ll be uploading soon again, though I will try if I have time to spare and my imagination cooperates :) Hope you enjoy this chapter! And thank you all for your patience, it’ll be rewarded!

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9 Pt.10

Months have flew by way too fast. And now you were feeling more confident around the northern lady and your family. You’d keep her from any harm they would try to inflict on her no matter the consequences, yet you were cautions cause Joffrey was still so damn annoying. Though since Margaery arrived to the capital she has been keeping him rather distracted.

“Because the truth is always either terrible or boring.”

“Am I boring?” You approached Sansa from behind, daintily kissing her cheek.

“Not at all.” She answered with a broad simper.

“You shouldn’t be too obvious in plain sight.” Shae subtly advised.

“You are right. We should be more careful.” You peered up to see if the guards were staring your way, when you confirmed they were not you stole a kiss on her silky lips. She giggled.

“Have a lovely day. I’ll meet you later. My grandfather requested my presence.” It was true... Tywin wanted to speak privately with you, and you sort of imagined why.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

“My ladies.” You winked playfully at Sansa before walking away.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Shae asked Sansa well knowing the answer to her own question.

“She is perfect.” She let out a love sigh.

“You trust her?”

“The princess has always treated me with respect. I always dreamed with a handsome knight or a sweet prince, then I met her and she is far more better than any of that.” Sansa confessed.

“She seems to be a good girl.” Lord Baelish approached the two women.

“Lovely day for it. May I speak with lady Sansa alone for a moment?” Shae stood up and walked back to Ros.

“I saw your mother not long ago. She’s very eager to see you. And your sister.” He commented.

“Arya’s alive?”

“Oh yes. Indeed she is. But... I’ve noticed you’ve grown quite attached to princess Y/N.” He chose carefully his words.

“I have. She is and extraordinary friend.” Sansa added. “I’m very lucky to be her friend.”

“You are. I’m waiting for word on an assignment that will take me far away from the capital. When I set sail, I might be able to bring you with me. But you’d need to be ready to leave on a moment’s notice.” Sansa widen her eyes. She didn’t really want to leave now... did she? After all she knew she’ll never be truly free here.

“I... I’m not sure if that’s a wise idea, Lord Baelish.” She conflicted admitted.

“And why’s that? Other than the risks it involves of course.”

“Well, as I said before, King’s Landing is my home now. It has good things despite the corruption.” Only Y/N, she thought.

“All right then. The offer stands, my lady. Keep it in mind.” He turned around to leave Sansa wondering if she’d abandon you to return home or staying here by your side.

“You are glowing, granddaughter of mine.”

Tywin was jotting down something with a quill. “Is there a boy already?” It sounded more like a statement rather than a question. You tried not blush as Sansa’s picture coming to your mind.

“Mmm... no. There is not a... boy.” You concluded kinda nervous.

“If there is not then you should be looking for a suitable swain. I reckon you have many admirers waiting to receive your attention.” He said with a serious tone. Does he really mind? Of course he does. He wants to get a hold of another loyalty for House Lannister. “Many lords would give their whole lands to marry you. And we might need that.”

“But that’s not what I need.” You responded nonchalantly. It was true. All you truly needed and longed for was the love of someone who valued you. And you already found that in a northern lass. You knew he disapprove entirely your “reckless” choices, same as your mother. You’d fight back and won’t allow them to throw you into some random man’s arms.

You stepped inside Joffrey’s dining table. You always enjoyed to hang with the Tyrell siblings, but now that she’s engaged to your brother... you wonder how she’s been managing to handle him. After all, she’s one of the cleverest persons you know.

“Margaery does a great deal of work with the poor back in Hightgarden. I’ve heard Y/N do charity for the poor here as well.” Loras commented. You nodded. The soon to be queen smiled softly your way.

“The lowest among us are no different from the highest if you give them a chance and approach them with an open heart.” You mirrored her act.

“An open heart is what you’ll get in Flee Bottom if you’re not careful, my dear. Not long ago, we were attached by a mob there. We had a full complement of guards that didn’t stop them. The king barely escaped his life.” You hid your smirk.

“My mother’s always had a penchant for drama. Facts become less and less important to her as she grows older. Our lives were never truly in danger.” You rolled your eyes at his lies.

“Oh but they were. You didn’t even care about sending the guards to get lady Sansa back to the Keep. A king is supposed to ensure the safety of all the ones that are in need. You seem to keep failing on that, big brother.” You sensed his furious glare upon you.

“Who cares about her anyway.” You clenched your jaw tightly. Loras and Margaery keep their eyes on their dinner.

There was an awkward pause as the main course was brought to the table. The rest of the evening was all about the same. Joffrey flaunting about his “bravery” and Cersei flattering him all along. Margaery showing off a wide smile at his non sense.

~~~~~~

You strolled to your room exhausted after training with the bow and horse-riding with little Tommen. Before that you decided to pay a visit to Sansa’s chambers. You knocked the door twice and she beamed with delight.

“I hope it isn’t too late to stop by.”

“No, I was about to get under the sheets. Perhaps you can join me?” She suggested with a gaily grin. You chuckled. Seeing Sansa being so... awfully bold was so nice and pure. Being around you made her forget about the fact she’s a prisoner. It didn’t matter as much when you were together.

“I’d love that.” You entered the room, holding her by the waist and leading both of you to the bed.

“How was your day then?” You smoothly asked. She tossed to be face to face with you.

“Actually, it was wonderful! Ser Loras escorted me to the gardens with Lady Margaery and Lady Olenna. They were very kind to me. We had lunch together and chatted for a while.”

“That sounds lovely, my lady. I’ve always consider Lady Olenna as the grandmother I never had. She knows me since I was a baby. Now that they are here I’ve been reminiscing about the good old days when we wouldn’t stop joshing Loras about me beating him on a single duel. We were so young back then... I’ll always hold dear those moments. He may be moody and brash at times, still, he is complete gentleman. Water’s sometimes thicker than blood. That’s for sure.” The Tyrells were your second family, they welcomed you with open arms and never once judge you. Unlike your own blood, with exceptions of course.

“Back in Winterfell I was so focused on learning how to properly be a lady and all that, that I missed many things... I should’ve been closer to Robb, Arya, even Jon. I was mean.” Sansa’s voice cracked.

“Don’t lose faith, Sansa. I know it’s too much to ask for but life takes unexpected turns.” You brushed one of her ginger locks with your right hand.

“I found a new home.” She whispered lightly. “Not Kings Landing. Not this castle. You.” She unhurriedly closed her crystal eyes. Your heart was at her mercy, that was a fact. You caressed gently her cheek and sealed the night with the most tender kiss anyone could dream of.

“You are my home too, my love.” You breathed against her lips.

#game of thrones fic #got #sansa stark x reader #sansa x reader #sansa x fem baratheon reader #sansa stark imagine #dany x reader #daenerys x reader #daenerys targaryen x reader #game of thrones

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

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More than Enough

For @tma-mspec-week Day Three: Polycule

Characters: Jonathan Sims/Sasha James/Tim Stoker/Martin Blackwood

Rating: Teen

Summary:

“But what if-” Once again, Jon struggles to find the right words. He knows their situation is unorthodox to most people, and the thought of Martin looking at him differently is too much to bear. “What if he doesn’t understand?”

“Then explain it to him,” Sasha relays patiently, her hand never leaving his. Things are always so clear to her, Jon envies that. “You’re my partners, you’re dating Tim, sometimes me and Tim have-”

Or: How One Became Four.

It starts with Sasha and Jon.

She’s fresh off six months in Artefact Storage, shell-shocked and stand-offish. Jon starts a few months later and they learn the ropes together. She warms up, divulges little tidbits of her time in the other department that Jon devours. He’s young, hungry for answers and Sasha’s already jaded by her few years in academia. This is just a transitional job, she assures him. It pays better than most research gigs and allows her to keep up a certain lifestyle.

“I’m looking at other places, putting out feelers,” she confides in him one day over coffee. It’s become their daily ritual, a mid-morning break where they can commiserate on the staid academics that ask too much of them and the fanciful statements that end up on their desk. “Whatever you do, don’t get stuck here.” She leans back in her chair, gives a cynical little smile. “Or maybe you should. It’ll be different for you, you’re a man.” He starts a protest but she cuts him off. “It’s an old boys club and you know it. Besides, I know all about your extra meetings with Bouchard. He’s never done that with anyone else. Who knows - in a few years you might be my boss!”

He scoffs at that. Jon feels like he’s treading water. He’s a great researcher, sure, but he hasn’t exactly made himself popular among the others. He’s quick to bite, dismissive, blunt. It’s why he and Sasha get along so well, tucked away in their own little world. Of course she would notice the attention from Elias; Jon’s flattered by it, even if he stammers his way through every interaction. Elias seems to find this amusing, but Jon wants to impress him.

Though not at the cost of his friendship with Sasha. “I always mention your work to him. I’m rubbish with technology, but you-” She rolls her eyes.

“Don’t, he’ll see right through that. Manipulation’s not your strong suit.” Jon stares down at his rapidly cooling drink, an embarrassed flush spreading across his features. But her hand reaches out to grasp his and a fond smile lights her features. “Thank you, though. It’s sweet of you.”

Jon likes Sasha. Their personalities occasionally clash, but never for too long. Jon’s quick to forgive and Sasha’s too fond to hold a grudge, though she’s loath to admit it. So when her roommate suddenly moves out and she’s left in a bind, it’s only natural for Jon to take her place. He’s been rent-poor, living paycheck to paycheck in a shitty studio that’s still an hour’s commute. Sasha’s closer and her flat’s substantially nicer; she offers and he accepts, easy as that. It’s a practical move, and Jon has to admit his lonely little flat is starting to feel suffocating.

They fit together easily, like pieces of puzzle slotting in place. Sasha’s brutally efficient in her personal matters; bills and maintenance that Jon finds overwhelming and confounding she takes care of with ease. He’s heard her on the phone in that light, practiced tone of hers as she casually threatens the landlord for necessary repairs. Jon finds himself relaxing bit by bit, feeling comfortable in his own skin as she snarks at the dinner table over a dish he’s made. He used to cook for Georgie like this. Now he cooks for Sasha.

“You’re good at this,” she comments one night over chana masala. “Loads better than the frozen meals I’m used to.”

“It’s nice, having someone to cook for. Harder to do it for one.” He feels a bit uncomfortable with the admission, though he knows he shouldn’t - this is what it’s like, when you love someone.

He’s never said that to her, of course. He gets attached too easily but never knows quite how to show it. And it’s not his usual sort of love, he doesn’t want to date her. She’s more than a friend, and Jon’s never had many of those; he has no metric to measure this against. He thinks he could stay in this flat with her forever, so long as he could see her smile every morning and yawn every night.

On a Saturday morning she stumbles out of bed and makes her way over to the kitchen. “Morning,” she grumbles, as she reaches for the coffee pot and kisses his forehead. Jon doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

On a Wednesday night Jon drinks too much.

“Sasha,” he slurs, her arm the only thing keeping him from falling off his stool. “I want you t’ know…”

She smiles indulgently, takes a sip of her drink. “Yes, dear?”

“I-I love you.” She pauses and Jon’s heart drops. “N-Not like that, but like friends. Good friends. Very good friends. But m-maybe not.” She’s still smiling, that’s got to be a good sign, right? “I-I just love you, okay?”

And then she laughs, puts an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close. “I love you too. Stay with me forever, okay?”

He takes her hand between his and promises, with all the solemnity a drunken man can muster, that he’ll stay with her forever and then some. The next morning, while they’re both nursing massive hangovers, Jon broaches the subject again.

“Did you mean it?” he asks tentatively, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. “What you said last night. Do- do you want me to stay forever?” She turns to look at him, bleary eyes suddenly alert.

“Yes.” There’s no tease in her words as she leans into his side, a warm weight on his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever meant anything more.”

Jon stays.

______

Two years later, Tim joins the Institute.

He’s handsome; charming, but subdued. He’s been assigned a desk near theirs, invading the quiet little corner that had become their world. Tim greets them both with a smile and a perfunctory handshake before settling down at his desk and powering up his laptop. He doesn’t speak to them again.

Jon watches as he goes back and forth between circulation and his desk, building an impressive stack of books- The Pantomime Life of Joseph Grimaldi, The Congress of Clowns and Other Russian Circus Acts. Sasha told him he worked in publishing, Jon knows she got that information through her usual nefarious means. Perhaps he’s writing a book, Jon says. Sasha thinks otherwise.

“He’s one of those,” she says over sandwiches and tea. She invited Tim, but had been turned down with an apologetic smile.

“Hmm?”

“Like you.” She sets her drink down, eyes him with her steady gaze. “He’s got a reason.”

Mr. Spider doesn’t like it.

Jon shivers at the reminder. Sasha never brought it up after he initially confided in her one vulnerable night last year; she just held him through the shaking and the tears. He’s only told the story twice; once at eight, again at twenty five. It never got easier.

“No one believed me,” he whispered, tucking his face into her shoulder as his body itched from phantom legs skittering across skin. She squeezed him back.

“I do.”

They’re friendly enough to Tim, giving him his distance while still trying to be helpful. Jon points him in the direction of texts and scholars who might be useful, Sasha teaches him a few of her more invasive tricks that Jon refused to learn. Slowly, bit by bit, he opens up. Never shares his story, no- but he smiles, jokes around with them, accompanies them on their lunch breaks and eventually entices them to after work drinks.

He’s handsome when he smiles, Jon thinks to himself as Tim regales them with stories of dates gone wrong. Sasha catches his eye and winks. He wonders if she’ll tire of Jon now that Tim’s around. He’s everything Jon’s not; good-looking, confident, secure in his intelligence. Sasha laughs so freely around him. He could ground her where Jon cannot- they can be a chaotic force, the two of them. It’s why they keep to themselves.

But at the end of the night it’s Jon’s hand she takes, swinging it gently with hers. “Stay with me forever?”

He smiles. “Forever.”

They invite him over to their flat one night in spring, when the trees are blossoming and Jon’s allergies are acting up. He’s sniffling miserably on the couch, Tim sprawled next to him as Sasha pours some wine. Despite his misery, Jon’s content.

Tim nudges him with his foot. “So what’s your deal?” he asks in a wheedling tone, though his smirk betrays an almost imperceptible anxiety. It’s strange. “You and Sash. Dating, roomies…?”

It’s Sasha who answers, handing Jon a glass of wine and standing before Tim, tall and proud. “Jon’s my partner.” It’s matter of fact, and Jon can’t help the warmth that floods him. “We’re not dating. I’m not interested in that.” She hands him his glass with a smirk. “But if you want to romance Jon, feel free.”

Jon sputters as she laughs- he’s transparent, as usual. They’d talked about it briefly- Sasha’s fine with him dating other people, but Jon’s never felt the need to. Sasha’s enough. She still is, but he can’t deny the way his heart swoops whenever Tim aims that smile in his direction. Sasha likes him too, in her own way.

Tim’s still gaping at them and Jon can’t help but join in on the laughter, as embarrassed as he feels. “Is the great Timothy Stoker nervous?” Sasha says in between giggles. “Guess we know how to shut him up now.”

“L-Look, can you blame me?” Tim says, a smile growing on his face. “You two can be very intimidating, not to mention gorgeous-”

Jon kicks at his leg. “Don’t joke.”

“No, we are.” Sasha interrupts, daring him to disagree. She turns that deadly smile back on Tim, delighting in his falter. “So what’ll it be, Stoker?”

There’s silence, Jon can feel his heart racing. They’ve got this all wrong, Tim doesn’t want him, Tim’s going to leave, Tim doesn’t understand-

“Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”

Jon blinks. “Uh, yes?”

“He likes Thai!” Sasha calls as she walks over to her bedroom, leaving the two of them on the couch, laughing nervously.

“So you’re bi, then?” Tim asks, scooting closer to Jon and throwing a blanket over their legs and an arm around his shoulder. It’s warm in all the right ways and Jon leans closer, the awkwardness dissipating at the touch of his hand.

“I prefer pan,” he replies. It’s the first term that felt right to him. Georgie used to make some stupid joke about a ‘gender buffet’ and him ‘having one of everything.’ It still makes him smile. “And- and you should know I’m also ace. So there’s some things I won’t be able to do for you.” He looks for disappointment in Tim’s eyes and finds none. “I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course.” Tim smiles like he means the words and Jon feels light, almost dizzy. “Are kisses alright?”

He nods shyly, and Tim takes this as his cue to pepper him in obnoxiously loud smooches- one in his hair, another on his nose. Jon manages to bat him away after Tim almost gets him in the eye.

So Tim and Jon are dating. Tim takes him out to dinner, the movies, one memorable night of karaoke. Sasha joins in when she wants; they go to museums and lectures. One night she laces her fingers through Tim’s, smiling at his wide eyes.

“What?” she says innocently, doing the same with Jon. “I’ve got two hands.”

On Wednesday nights Tim goes to the gym. Jon sits at the table, passes Sasha a bowl of reheated spaghetti before settling down in his chair. He fidgets, not touching his fork.

“What is it?” Sasha asks, setting her own fork down. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

“I-” he stutters, sighing as the words won’t come. Just tell her like you practiced. “I’m not trying to, well- hmm. I don’t want to insinuate anything-”

“You would never.”

“But, I’ve noticed- I’m not- Tim is very handsome.”

Sasha smiles indulgently. “Mhm. Go on.”

“And I’ve noticed. I don’t- if you wanted to-” Goddamnit. Pull yourself together. “I wouldn’t mind it, if you were to - that is, if you’d like to engage in-” He closes his eyes, purses his lips in frustration. “Please stop me.”

“Why Jon,” she replies, her voice coy and teasing. “Are you giving me your blessing?”

Jon sighs, his face warming as he opens one eye- she’s grinning, just as he expected. “...Yes?”

Six months later, Tim moves in.

_______

“Jon wants to bring a boy home!”

Jon smacks him in the arm and scowls. “Tim, don’t-”

“What, it’s true!” He leans back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Jon wants to knock the smile off his face and maybe onto the floor, if he can get a good kick in. “I don’t blame you and in fact, I encourage it. Martin’s a catch-”

“Martin?” Sasha perks up. “Finally!”

“Not you too-”

“Jon, he’s a very sweet boy-”

“-good-looking, too!”

“And if you want to bring him over, please do.” She reaches across the table to give his hand an encouraging, if condescending, squeeze. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other.”

“I don’t think I’ll need to go into that much detail just yet,” Jon cuts her off, ignoring Tim’s snicker. “It’s just...what if he thinks it's weird?”

“Weird can be good. And if he doesn’t agree, well - he’s not worth your time.”

If only it were that simple.

It’s been about three months since he first ran into Martin in the break room. He’d seen him around plenty of times, but despite his hulking form, the man can make himself very, very small. It wasn’t until he quite literally ran into him, causing him to drop his newly organized files, that Jon got a good look at his face.

It was a nice face. Soft, kind, with big blue eyes and curly red hair that fell across his forehead. He wanted to touch it, tuck it behind Martin’s ear and he almost did, despite the man’s rambling apologies and meek demeanor. He stood there, frozen, even as Martin handed back the file with a bashful smile.

“Sorry, I’m pretty clumsy. Are you alright?”

Jon was fine. He should probably say that.

“Y-Yes. I’m Jon.” Wow. Smooth.

“I know.” Martin put a hand behind his neck, nervously chuckling. “You’re quite known around these parts.” His eyes widened and his face turned red. A nice red. “N-Not in a bad way, of course! You’re- you’re just very smart and- and direct- and oh Lord, that’s not a compliment, is it-”

“Thank you for my file,” Jon replied robotically, his eyes trained somewhere over Martin’s shoulder and not on his very, very blue eyes. “I have to take my leave now.” Why are you talking like this?

Their next few encounters were similarly stunted and awkward. Martin made tea at ten every morning, coincidentally when Jon got his yogurt from the fridge. He started making Jon a cup as well; he wasn’t sure if Martin was particularly excellent at making tea, or if it just mattered that he was the one making it. Jon tried not to dwell on the sentimentality of it all.

He shouldn’t want another partner. He’s got Sasha, who he loves, and Tim, who he also loves, albeit in a different way. They should be enough for him. They are enough. But Martin makes him tea and asks him how his day is going and smiles at him and people don’t do that. He tells himself he just wants a friend, but he finds his mind wandering- Martin’s hand in his while they walk down the street, Jon nestled into his side on a movie night and Tim’s there too, because Martin is very comfy and handsome and warm. Sasha’s in her armchair reading a book because tonight they’re watching a romantic comedy and she hates those. Jon hates them too but Martin likes them, of course Martin likes them-

No. He’s getting distracted. And he’s standing in front of Martin like an idiot, saying nothing. This is going terribly. Why did he ever think this would not go terribly-

“Jon? Are you alright? You look like you’re about to have a stroke.”

“I’m not having a stroke,” Jon responds on auto-pilot. “I’m trying to think of a clever way to ask you out but you are very distracting.”

Shit. Martin stares at him, mouth open in shock. He’s got nice teeth. Very straight.

“Um- I-I thought you were with Tim?” Martin squeaks out. Oh God, I’ve scared him. Do I keep going? “Or- or Sasha, oh! I’m not accusing you of -”

“No, you’re correct,” Jon grinds out, willing himself to be calm. He doesn’t want Martin to think his frustration is aimed at him. “Sasha’s my partner and I’m dating Tim, and sometimes Sasha and Tim-” No! Abort! “-sorry. We’re together. But, um, I-I also like you, and I think Tim likes you but he hasn’t said- I’m sorry, this is going all wrong.” He looks down at the floor, clenching his jaw. “I understand if you say no.”

“I’m not saying no,” Martin’s voice is lower now and Jon feels a hope rise in his chest. He’s not? “So it’s, it’s like an open thing? You’re accepting applications?” Jon would laugh at the joke if he weren’t so paralyzed with fear.

“Not really? It’s, we aren’t dating around or anything, but I suppose it is open, in a way.” He pauses, takes a deep breath. “Open for you.”

Martin’s smiling like he can’t believe his luck, and it confuses Jon because who wouldn’t want him? Kind, handsome Martin who makes him tea and doesn’t laugh at his stupid jokes but rolls his eyes affectionately and tells his own in turn. Jon doesn’t think he’ll ever understand his humor but it makes him smile and that’s important. And now Martin’s taking his hand and he- oh fuck Martin’s taking his hand Martin’s got his hand and it’s warm, just like he knew it would be-

“I-I think I’d like that.” A squeeze. Jon dies but only a little. “Wow, this is sort of crazy for me, y’know? You’re all so, so intimidating and good-looking-”

“Yes, we are,” Jon agrees, squeezing his hand back. “But we’d like to buy you dinner, if you’re amenable.” Martin laughs and says yes, he’s very, very amenable. It feels right holding Martin’s hand. It feels right to see him with Tim and Sasha, smiling and joking. It feels right to lean into him at the end of the day, to nudge his side in the night and apologize in the morning.

Martin’s lease expires in seven months. They start looking for a new apartment after three.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29032062

#tma #the magnus archives #tma mspec week #jonmartimsasha #archive polycule before there's an archive #jonsasha #jontim #jonmartin #timsasha #jonathan sims #tim stoker #sasha james #martin blackwood #jon is pan #tim is bi #sasha is aro

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ladyofasoiaf · 3 years

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Jon ‘One Eye’ & Sansa Stark

In this meta I will try to point out the clues of Jon’s death- warging into his direwolf- coming back to life process.

Our main hint is going to be : ONE EYE motifs...

And interestingly this hint is always close to Sansa...

[Most of these clues etc have been already examined by many people but I will try to put them all in order to show the pattern..]

A GAME OF THRONES:

Waymar Royce

Waymar Royce appearence and story are very similar with Jon’s.

They look similar:

Ser Waymar Royce was the youngest son of an ancient house with too many heirs. He was a handsome youth of eighteen, grey-eyed and graceful and slender as a knife.

[AGOT; Prologue]

Jon’s eyes were a grey so dark they seemed almost black, but there was little they did not see. He was of an age with Robb, but they did not look alike. Jon was slender where Robb was muscular, dark where Robb was fair, graceful and quick where his half brother was strong and fast.

[AGOT; Bran I]

They are both young men of Night’s Watch but they were not very welcomed by their other black brothers:

His cloak was his crowning glory; sable, thick and black and soft as sin. “Bet he killed them all himself, he did,” Gared told the barracks over wine, “twisted their little heads off, our mighty warrior.” They had all shared the laugh. It is hard to take orders from a man you laughed at in your cups, Will reflected as he sat shivering atop his garron. Gared must have felt the same.

[AGOT; Prologue]

“Yes, life,” Noye said. “A long life or a short one, it’s up to you, Snow. The road you’re walking, one of your brothers will slit your throat for you one night.” “They’re not my brothers,” Jon snapped. “They hate me because I’m better than they are.” “No. They hate you because you act like you’re better than they are. They look at you and see a castle-bred bastard who thinks he’s a lordling.” The armorer leaned close. “You’re no lordling. Remember that. You’re a Snow, not a Stark. You’re a bastard and a bully.”

[AGOT; Jon III]

Others are a very important part of Jon’s arc and story and Waymar meets with them in Prologue:

Ser Waymar met him bravely. “Dance with me then.” He lifted his sword high over his head, defiant. His hands trembled from the weight of it, or perhaps from the cold. Yet in that moment, Will thought, he was a boy no longer, but a man of the Night’s Watch.

[AGOT; Prologue]

This phrase also reminds us Jon:

It is more than impatience, Jon realized. They are afraid. Warriors, spearwives, raiders, they are frightened of those woods, of shadows moving through the trees. They want to put the Wall between them before the night descends.

A snowflake danced upon the air. Then another. Dance with me, Jon Snow, he thought. You’ll dance with me anon.

[ADWD; Jon XII]

In Prologue, Waymar gets killed by Others:

Royce’s body lay facedown in the snow, one arm out-flung. The thick sable cloak had been slashed in a dozen places. Lying dead like that, you saw how young he was. A boy.

[AGOT; Prologue]

And Jon dies in ADWD:

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger’s hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. “Ghost,” he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold …

[ADWD; Jon XIII]

But Waymar comes back to life as a wight with ‘ONE EYE’:

Will rose. Ser Waymar Royce stood over him. His fine clothes were a tatter, his face a ruin. A shard from his sword transfixed the blind white pupil of his left eye. The right eye was open. The pupil burned blue. It saw.

[AGOT; Prologue]

So: A young man of Night’s Watch who looks like Jon dies and comes back to life with ONE EYE.

Let’s continue with the second book...

A CLASH OF KINGS:

Orell

Orell is Wildling who is also a skinchanger. His animal is an EAGLE.

Jon kills Orell in ACOK; Jon VI:

Jon nodded toward the one by the fire. It felt queer, picking a man to kill.

[...]

Jon’s man leapt to his feet, thrusting at his face with a burning brand. He could feel the heat of the flames as he flinched back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sleeper stirring, and knew he must finish his man quick. When the brand swung again, he bulled into it, swinging the bastard sword with both hands. The Valyrian steel sheared through leather, fur, wool, and flesh, but when the wildling fell he twisted, ripping the sword from Jon’s grasp.

[...]

“You ought to burn them you killed,” said Ygritte.

[ACOK; Jon VI]

But due to the magic of skinchanging, a portion of Orell’s consciousness remained in the eagle, which developed a fierce hatred for Jon.

And in ACOK; Jon VII he dreams of an eagle attacking him and people talk about vargs and skinchangers:

Then a sudden gust of cold made his fur stand up, and the air thrilled to the sound of wings. As he lifted his eyes to the ice-white mountain heights above, a shadow plummeted out of the sky. A shrill scream split the air. He glimpsed blue-grey pinions spread wide, shutting out the sun… “Ghost!” Jon shouted, sitting up. He could still feel the talons, the pain. “Ghost, to me!” Ebben appeared, grabbed him, shook him. “Quiet! You mean to bring the wildlings down on us? What’s wrong with you, boy?” “A dream,” said Jon feebly. “I was Ghost, I was on the edge of the mountain looking down on a frozen river, and something attacked me. A bird… an eagle, I think…”

[...]

“Skinchanger?” said Ebben grimly, looking at the Halfhand. Does he mean the eagle? Jon wondered. Or me? Skinchangers and wargs belonged in Old Nan’s stories, not in the world he had lived in all his life. Yet here, in this strange bleak wilderness of rock and ice, it was not hard to believe.

[ACOK; Jon VII]

So: There is a skinchanger who dies because of Jon but a part of him keeps living in his animal: eagle.

The interesting thing is that between these two Jon chapters (Orell and eagle dream) comes a very important Sansa chapter which has many parallels with Jon VI chapter...

An example of parallels:

[…] ‘All I ask is a flower,’ Bael answered, ‘the fairest flower that blooms in the gardens o’ Winterfell.”

“Now as it happened the winter roses had only then come into bloom, and no flower is so rare nor precious…

[ACOK; Jon VI]

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

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

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

[ACOK; Sansa IV]

For more, please check: Jonsa Book Hints: B5

In this chapter Sansa says she wants to be loved and Cersei warns her that “love kills too...” Next chapter is Jon with his eagle dreams and warging abilities:

A half smile flickered across the queen’s face. “[…]Robert wanted to be loved. My brother Tyrion has the same disease. Do you want to be loved, Sansa?”

“Everyone wants to be loved.”

“I see flowering hasn’t made you any brighter,” said Cersei. “Sansa, permit me to share a bit of womanly wisdom with you on this very special day. Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same.”

[ACOK; Sansa IV]

Let’s move on to third book...

A STORM OF SWORDS:

Orell and Wargs

In ASOS; Jon I, we learn the name of the Wildling that Jon has killed in ACOK; Jon VI:

“He slew Qhorin Halfhand,” said Longspear Ryk. “Him and that wolf o’ his.”

“And did for Orell too,” said Rattleshirt.

“The lad’s a warg, or close enough,” put in Ragwyle, the big spearwife. “His wolf took a piece o’ Halfhand’s leg.”

[...]

“What’s this?” he said. “A crow?”

“The black bastard what gutted Orell,” said Rattleshirt, “and a bloody warg as well.”

“You were to kill them all.”

“This one come over,” explained Ygritte. “He slew Qhorin Halfhand with his own hand.”

[ASOS; Jon I]

This Jon chapter comes after ASOS; Sansa I.

And these chapters have many parallels such as:

Sansa knelt at the feet of her future queen. “You do me great honor, Your Grace.” “Won’t you call me Margaery? Please, rise. Loras, help the Lady Sansa to her feet. Might I call you Sansa?”

[ASOS; Sansa I]

“I would be pleased to eat, Your Grace. And thank you.”

“Your Grace?” The king smiled. “That’s not a style one often hears from the lips of the free folk. I’m Mance to most, The Mance to some. Will you take a horn of mead?”

[ASOS; Jon I]

For more, please check: Jonsa Book Hints: C1

We also learn about Sansa’s new betrothed: Willas Tyrell..

Willas has a bad leg and so does Jon, in ASOS:

“Willas has a bad leg but a good heart,” said Margaery. “He used to read to me when I was a little girl, and draw me pictures of the stars. You will love him as much as we do, Sansa.”

[ASOS; Sansa I]

If the mare had gone down, he would have been doomed. “A lucky thing my leg got in the way,” he muttered.

He rested for a while to let the horse graze. She did not wander far. That was good. Hobbled with a bad leg, he could never have caught her.

[ASOS; Jon V]

Let’s keep reading...

In ASOS; Jon II chapter Jon’s eagle dream from ACOK comes true and Orell’s eagle attacks Jon’s eye:

He could still hear wings, though the eagle was not in sight. Half his world was black. “My eye,” he said in sudden panic, raising a hand to his face.

“It’s only blood, Jon Snow. He missed the eye, just ripped your skin up some.”

[…]

Can a bird hate? Jon had slain the wilding Orell, but some part of the man remained within the eagle. The golden eyes looked out on him with cold malevolence.

[…]

I will need to get this tended, he thought, but not just now. Let the King-beyond-the-Wall see what his eagle did to me.

[…]

The look Mance gave Jon was grim and cold. “What happened to your face?”

Ygritte said, “Orell tried to take his eye out.”

“It was him I asked. Has he lost his tongue? Perhaps he should, to spare us further lies.”

Styr the Magnar drew a long knife. “The boy might see more clear with one eye, instead of two.”

“Would you like to keep your eye, Jon?” asked the King-beyond-the-Wall. “If so, tell me how many they were. And try and speak the truth this time, Bastard of Winterfell.”

Jon’s throat was dry. “My lord… what…”

[ASOS; Jon II]

Jon almosts loses his ‘one eye’ and becomes Jon ‘One Eye’ Snow because of this attack..

After this eagle attack Jon chapter comes ASOS; Sansa II

And these chapters have many parallels such as:

Jon wheeled and followed Tormund back toward the head of the column, his new cloak hanging heavy from his shoulders. It was made of unwashed sheepskins, worn fleece side in, as the wildlings suggested.

[…]

“I wear the cloak you gave me, Your Grace.”

[ASOS; Jon II]

A new gown?” she said, as wary as she was astonished.

“More lovely than any you have worn, my lady,” the old woman promised. She measured Sansa’s hips with a length of knotted string. “All silk and Myrish lace, with satin linings. You will be very beautiful. The queen herself has commanded it.”

“Which queen?” Margaery was not yet Joff’s queen, but she had been Renly’s. Or did she mean the Queen of Thorns? Or…“The Queen Regent, to be sure.”

[ASOS; Sansa II]

For more, please check: Jonsa Book Hints: C2

And after the chapter of an eagle attacks Jon’s eye we learn in next chapter that Sansa’s betrothed Willas Tyrell flies EAGLES:

“Willas has the best birds in the Seven Kingdoms,” Margaery said when the two of them were briefly alone. “He flies an eagle sometimes. You will see, Sansa.”

[ASOS; Sansa II]

Why is Almost One Eye Jon and Sansa Stark being near to each other important?

Because the first Sansa Stark in Stark family tree was married with her half-uncle Jonnel ‘One Eye’ Stark:

So another Sansa being close to another Stark family member who almost had lost his one eye sounds interesting.

Well, Jon didn’t lose his eye but his face got scarred:

He had almost forgotten about his face. “A skinchanger tried to rip out my eye.”

Noye frowned. “Scarred or smooth, it’s a face I thought I’d seen the last of. We heard you’d gone over to Mance Rayder.”

[ASOS; Jon VI]

Who else has a scarred face? Sansa’s husband- Tyrion Lannister:

“I like your scar.” She traced it with her finger. “It makes you look very fierce and strong.”

He laughed. “Very ugly, you mean.”

“M’lord will never be ugly in my eyes.” She kissed the scab that covered the ragged stub of his nose.

[ASOS; Tyrion II]

Varamyr

What happens to this eagle later?

Skinchanger, Varamyr Sixskins, takes control of Orell’s eagle. Varamyr uses the eagle to scout Castle Black and spots Stannis Baratheon’s arrival at the Wall.

The eagle bursts into flames during the attack on Castle Black with Melisandre claiming she was responsible.

The skinchanger was grey-faced, round-shouldered, and bald, a mouse of a man with a wolfling’s eyes. “Once a horse is broken to the saddle, any man can mount him,” he said in a soft voice. “Once a beast’s been joined to a man, any skinchanger can slip inside and ride him. Orell was withering inside his feathers, so I took the eagle for my own. But the joining works both ways, warg. Orell lives inside me now, whispering how much he hates you. And I can soar above the Wall, and see with eagle eyes.”

[...]

“Banners,” he heard Varamyr murmur, “I see golden banners, oh . . .” A mammoth lumbered by, trumpeting, a half-dozen bowmen in the wooden tower on its back. “The king . . . no . . .”

Then the skinchanger threw back his head and screamed.The sound was shocking, ear-piercing, thick with agony. Varamyr fell, writhing, and the ’cat was screaming too.... and high, high in the eastern sky, against the wall of cloud, Jon saw the eagle burning. For a heartbeat it flamed brighter than a star, wreathed in red and gold and orange, its wings beating wildly at the air as if it could fly from the pain. Higher it flew, and higher, and higher still.

[ASOS; Jon X]

Melisandre burns the eagle. Who else got burned in the books?

Jon Snow in AGOT:

He had burned himself more badly than he knew throwing the flaming drapes, and his right hand was swathed in silk halfway to the elbow. At the time he’d felt nothing; the agony had come after.

[AGOT; Jon VIII]

And Jon burns himself in AGOT; Jon VII:

Jon tried to shout, but his voice was gone. Staggering to his feet, he kicked the arm away and snatched the lamp from the Old Bear’s fingers. The flame flickered and almost died. “Burn!” the raven cawed. “Burn, burn, burn!”

Spinning, Jon saw the drapes he’d ripped from the window. He flung the lamp into the puddled cloth with both hands. Metal crunched, glass shattered, oil spewed, and the hangings went up in a great whoosh of flame. The heat of it on his face was sweeter than any kiss Jon had ever known. “Ghost!” he shouted.

The direwolf wrenched free and came to him as the wight struggled to rise, dark snakes spilling from the great wound in its belly. Jon plunged his hand into the flames, grabbed a fistful of the burning drapes, and whipped them at the dead man. Let it burn, he prayed as the cloth smothered the corpse, gods, please, please, let it burn.

[AGOT; Jon VII]

This Jon chapter comes after AGOT; Sansa IV:

And these two chapters have many parallels such as:

So she went to the queen instead, and poured out her heart, and Cersei had listened and thanked her sweetly … only then Ser Arys had escorted her to the high room in Maegor’s Holdfast and posted guards, and a few hours later, the fighting had begun outside.

[AGOT; Sansa IV]

They took his knife and his sword and told him he was not to leave his cell until the high officers met to decide what was to be done with him. And then they placed a guard outside his door to make certain he obeyed. His friends were not allowed to see him, but the Old Bear did relent and permit him Ghost, so he was not utterly alone.

[AGOT; Jon VII]

Yet somehow it seemed colder with Jeyne gone, even after she’d built a fire. She pulled a chair close to the hearth, took down one of her favorite books, and lost herself in the stories of Florian and Jonquil, of Lady Shella and the Rainbow Knight, of valiant Prince Aemon and his doomed love for his brother’s queen.

[AGOT; Sansa IV]

Yet he was trembling, violently. When had it gotten so cold?

[…] 

Metal crunched, glass shattered, oil spewed, and the hangings went up in a great whoosh of flame. The heat of it on his face was sweeter than any kiss Jon had ever known. “Ghost!” he shouted.

[AGOT; Jon VII]

For more, please check: Jonsa Book Hints: A10

What happens to skinchanger Orell and warg Varamyr after the eagle burst into flames?

The incident greatly affects Varamyr and supposedly kills the remnants of Orell inside the eagle.

After the defeat of the wildlings at the battle beneath the Wall, Varamyr has lost all his possessions in his madness from experiencing the eagle’s death; he has also lost control of his snow bear and shadowcat, but his wolves remain.

[Orell dying completely and Varamyr gets mad also reminds me another resurrected character Beric Dondarrion who also has ONE EYE and him dying for good to bring Catelyn Stark back to life... And like Varamyr, Lady Stoneheart loses her mind too... ]

Let’s move on to fourth book...

A FEAST FOR CROWS:

Jon is not even in this book?

But Sansa is and we learn few things about her crushes:

Waymar Royce:

She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl.

[AFFC; Alayne I]

Grrm reminds us Waymar Royce aka the biggest foreshadowing for Jon in AFFC book via Sansa’s chapter...

Loras Tyrell:

Loras was another crush of Sansa and we learn that he got burned really bad in AFFC.

Like the eagle and Jon.

“Tell me,” said Margaery. “I command it.” Command it? Cersei paused a moment, then decided she would let that pass. “The defenders fell back to an inner keep once the curtain wall was taken. Loras led the attack there as well. He was doused with boiling oil.” Lady Alla turned white as chalk, and ran from the room. “The maesters are doing all they can, Lord Waters assures me, but I fear your brother is too badly burned.”

[AFFC; Cersei VIII]

More about Loras // Jon, please check: Jonsa Book Hints: A8

Let’s keep reading the fifth book...

A DANCE WITH DRAGONS:

In ADWD; Prologue Varamyr encounters with Others (just like AGOT; Prologue) and Varamyr’s body dies, but his mind lives on in his wolf One Eye.

And Varamyr also thinks about Jon and his direwolf..

So we have dead warg who kept living in his animal: A WOLF whose name is ONE EYE.

Varamyr could feel the snowflakes melting on his brow. This is not so bad as burning. Let me sleep and never wake, let me begin my second life. His wolves were close now. He could feel them. He would leave this feeble flesh behind, become one with them, hunting the night and howling at the moon. The warg would become a true wolf. Which, though?

[...]

“They say you forget,” Haggon had told him, a few weeks before his own death. “When the man’s flesh dies, his spirit lives on inside the beast, but every day his memory fades, and the beast becomes a little less a warg, a little more a wolf, until nothing of the man is left and only the beast remains.”

Varamyr knew the truth of that. When he claimed the eagle that had been Orell’s, he could feel the other skinchanger raging at his presence. Orell had been slain by the turncloak crow Jon Snow, and his hate for his killer had been so strong that Varamyr found himself hating the beastling boy as well. He had known what Snow was the moment he saw that great white direwolf stalking silent at his side. One skinchanger can always sense another. Mance should have let me take the direwolf. There would be a second life worthy of a king. He could have done it, he did not doubt. The gift was strong in Snow, but the youth was untaught, still fighting his nature when he should have gloried in it.

[...]

A sleeping direwolf raised his head to snarl at empty air. Before their hearts could beat again he had passed on, searching for his own, for One Eye, Sly, and Stalker, for his pack. His wolves would save him, he told himself. That was his last thought as a man. True death came suddenly; he felt a shock of cold, as if he had been plunged into the icy waters of a frozen lake. Then he found himself rushing over moonlit snows with his packmates close behind him. Half the world was dark. One Eye, he knew. He bayed, and Sly and Stalker gave echo. When they reached the crest the wolves paused.

[...]

The things below moved, but did not live. One by one, they raised their heads toward the three wolves on the hill. The last to look was the thing that had been Thistle. She wore wool and fur and leather, and over that she wore a coat of hoarfrost that crackled when she moved and glistened in the moonlight. Pale pink icicles hung from her fingertips, ten long knives of frozen blood. And in the pits where her eyes had been, a pale blue light was flickering, lending her coarse features an eerie beauty they had never known in life. She sees me.

[ADWD; Prologue]

Jon dies in his last ADWD chapter and his last word was his direwolf’s name: GHOST...

[ADWD; Jon XIII]

So we have a full circle:

It started with Agot; Prologue

and ended with ADWD; Jon XIII

Let’s not forget that Jon’s death was foreshadowed in ASOS; Sansa VI chapter.

Lord Petyr dismissed him with a wave, and returned to the pomegranate again as Oswell shuffled down the steps. “Tell me, Alayne—which is more dangerous, the dagger brandished by an enemy, or the hidden one pressed to your back by someone you never even see?”

“The hidden dagger.”

“There’s a clever girl.” He smiled, his thin lips bright red from the pomegranate seeds.

[ASOS; Sansa VI]

Next chapter was Jon:

Fore more about Jon’s death and Sansa; please check:

Jonsa Book Hints: C12 & E7

“Do not be so certain.” The ruby at Melisandre’s throat gleamed red. “It is not the foes who curse you to your face that you must fear, but those who smile when you are looking and sharpen their knives when you turn your back. You would do well to keep your wolf close beside you. Ice, I see, and daggers in the dark. Blood frozen red and hard, and naked steel. It was very cold.”

“It is always cold on the Wall.”

“You think so?”

“I know so, my lady.”

“Then you know nothing, Jon Snow,” she whispered.

[ADWD; Jon I]

In conclusion:

Jon’s death, him warging into his direwolf during his death and him coming back to life arc has been foreshadowed since AGOT; Prologue and its most obvious hints were given in ADWD; Prologue by echoing AGOT; Prologue.

The ‘ONE EYE’ motif seems like a key hint for his resurrection.

And Sansa is always close to this motif or she has some connections with this motif via other characters or her chapters.

A Sansa Stark being close to another ‘ONE EYE’ Stark is interesting because of the historical couple: Jonnel ‘One Eye’ & Sansa Stark in Stark family tree..

Even the hints of Jon’s death can be found in Sansa chapters.

All of these tell us that Sansa will be important in Jon’s past resurrection story.

Thanks for reading.

Some sources:

Waymar // Jon

Disfigurements

Jonnel / Sansa

Jon’s fate and losing an eye

#jonsa #jon snow #varamyr #orell #jonnel one eye stark #sansa stark #agot #acok #asos #affc #adwd #actually jonsa #jon snow x sansa stark #waymar royce #one eye #meta #mine

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ficsilike-reblogged · 4 years

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Precious Inexperience

A/N: Welp. Should I be posting this on Easter? Probably not. This was written under the influence of the lack of sleep and the over-abundance of wine. This is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor’s “What’s Old is New Again" Challenge. I used the prompt #14, “I do not know how to kiss or I would kiss you. Where do the noses go?” - Ingrid Bergman

Pairing: King!Robb Stark x F!Reader

Rating: M for DARK THEMES including dub-con, death, death of children, Robb being a dick, a bit of smut, and canon-typical sexism

Warnings: Again, dub-con/dubious consent, talk of pregnancy, men being terrible-PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: The King in the North was now King of the Seven Kingdoms. Peace reigned. But Kings need heirs.

The King in the North they called him. King in the North even as he sat on the Iron Throne. Robb Stark was King of the Seven Kingdoms—won with bloody battles and dead wives. Alliances were sewn with marriages and Robb had easily taken a wife when it meant more men for his armies, more food to feed them, a stronger claim to the throne that had taken the head of his father all those years ago. A Frey girl. She’d been pretty. Pretty for Frey with small hips and a nice smile. She died in childbed—their son along with her. Then there was Margaery Tyrell. The beauty of the Reach. With the Reach under his command, Robb was unstoppable. Food was plentiful even as Winter came and went and the remaining forces loyal to the Crown starved and died.

Yes, she made a beautiful queen for a year. When her face turned purple and blood poured from her eyes, everyone cried “poison! Poison!” and pointed fingers at the Greyjoys, still refusing to bend the knee to their new king. No one ever truly knew who had murdered The Gracious Queen Margaery, but the heads of hundreds of Greyjoy bannermen decorated the pikes outside the Red Keep until the last Greyjoy, Yara, finally accepted his rule.

The Realm had peace, it seemed. The Dragon Queen had stayed in Essos with her army and her dragons and the Wildlings to the North had been eliminated under the command of his bastard brother, Jon Snow.

Peace, they said.

But, Kings need heirs.

The Westerlands submitted their prettiest maids from the best houses. The Stormlands, too. The Vale followed, along with the Riverlands, and the North. And Dorne, who had skillfully played both sides of the board during the war with the lions, had been slow to send a proposal.

The Martells were skittish, for good reason, to marry into another royal family. But that did not mean they did not want a Dornish woman to marry their new king. Robb had been kind to Dorne; knew their worth and history. He met with Prince Doran in the Water Gardens, personally, to broker an alliance and laughed with Ellaria Sand and Prince Oberyn at their feasts. The Northern King knew the power Dorne held. It had been no secret that Robb had sought Dorne’s council on many things.

But it came as a surprise to Y/N when Prince Doran sent for her and her father to come to the Water Gardens and meet with him. Her house was small and held modest power, nestled on the westernmost coast of Dorne, just south of House Dayne of Starfall. It was mostly a small naval fleet port and trading post with merchants from the Reach and Westerlands. As the fifth child of her family, she was often over-looked in many regards as her elder sister was groomed to one day take her place as head of the family. It was no bother to her, mostly. She was able to read and spend her time racing horses. Her Northern-bred mother was aghast when she had first learned of a few Dornish customs, but had softened immensely when she learned her firstborn, her daughter, had not made her a terrible wife. She’d produced an heir, after all. But the one frivolity she could not and would not condone was any sort of romantic interludes. She did not care that the rest of Dornish nobility embraced paramours and bastard children.

Y/N and her seven siblings were raised with Northern sensibilities in that regard. No men were left near her unsupervised. She was given little education on the art of romance other than the books she had to smuggle away from her mother’s prying eyes and, because she cared little for most people, it did not bother her in the slightest.

Marriage was not something she thought about often. Her house was secure with her sister and her marriage to Prince Doran’s son, Trystane. Her sister was pregnant with her second child already, much to the happiness of her family and the Martells. Her elder brothers were prosperous knights and her younger siblings were contemplating becoming maesters or a septa. The family coffers were plentiful. She needn’t marry for advantage in any regard.

Or so she had been led to believe.

When Prince Doran reached for her hand with a soft smile, she gave it to him readily, even as his heir, Princess Arianne could not offer a comforting expression. “The King has asked for a bride. You shall be our envoy.”

There was no argument. No brokering. No tears.

It was a strange sort of fog that clouded her mind as her father thanked Prince Doran and Princess Arianne for “the honor” and then tried to ready her for the trip to King’s Landing and the long days spent in the wheelhouse on the journey north. She hardly remembered any of it. The ladies maids were frantic about her, as they helped her dress in a pretty golden gown and pressed sweet-smelling perfume to her neck and wrists. All of it felt like it was happening to someone else. Not to her. Things like this didn’t happen to her. She would read and race horses and get scolded by her mother for smelling of hay or stealing berries from the kitchens.

It was a cattle show, if she had to give it a name. The potential brides were scattered about the throne room, their fathers at their sides, all primped and ready for inspection.

“Stand up straight, girl,” her father chided, a soft tone betraying his love for his second daughter.

“Yes, father,” Y/N murmured in return and did as he bid. “But, truly, you cannot believe he will even look at me.” She had always thought herself plain. It was no bother, really. Her sister was the heir and beauty and it took all the pressure of being a lady away. Her sister was kind to her, too. Perfect in every way. If she were standing here, Y/N was sure she would have been proposed to by now. And her younger sister was so enthralled with religion she hardly spoke of anything else.

“Prince Doran knows the King very well. He chose you for a reason.”

“Fine. But when we get sent home, I-”

“Your Grace.” Her father bowed and she quickly followed with a curtsey, grimacing at not noticing when the young King had stepped in their direction. “May I present to you my daughter, Lady Y/N.”

The King was handsome, obviously. His russet hair curled over the tops of his ears and even with the growing beard, he still had a young man’s roguish charm. Her heart suddenly constricted as he held out a hand toward her and her fingers shook as she placed her hand in his. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.” His words were murmured, beard scratching against her fingers.

“L-likewise, Your Grace.”

Robb stood straight with a smirk and there was a gleam in his eye that made her stomach twist. He nodded to her father and walked away to greet the next lady as she deflated, breath rushing.

“Well, I hope are happy, Father. I did my part on behalf of Dorne.” She was ready to go home. Now. The look the King gave her left her unsettled. There was a darkness behind his pretty eyes, one she had only seen when faced with feral animals that would howl in the night outside her family’s castle walls.

But then some man in a grey and black surcoat, embroidered with a snarling direwolf, stepped to her father’s side and whispered in his ear before his unfamiliar eyes flickered to her. The exchange lasted barely a few seconds and soon the man was walking away, following his king through the shadows.

“What is it?”

Her father frowned and dropped his voice to a low whisper she had to strain to hear even as he bent to her level. “You’ve been requested to meet His Grace in the gardens tonight.”

“Tonight?” She parroted. “Will you be there?”

“No. This is to see if you would be compatible.” Even as the words left his mouth, she knew he did not understand them.

“Must I go?”

Her father nodded. Sealing her fate.

The gardens were quiet except for the chirping of an incessant bird hidden somewhere in the greenery. The only other person she had seen while following the map she’d been handed just after dinner, was a guard at the entrance who looked at her with hard eyes from beneath his helmet before letting her venture in to the twisting, turning paths of green.

She squinted at the crudely drawn map in the dim moonlight and hoped she had found the right place. There had been a statue, a few turns ago, of the King’s sister, Sansa, holding the head of Cersei Lannister on a platter. Before that, a statue of the slain Stark boys, Rickon and Bran, astride their direwolves—a dead lion was crumpled under their paws. Arya had to be somewhere, too. Y/N was sure of it. She wondered what her statue depicted her doing—Arya was known throughout the Realm for her vicious nature and love for her family. She had set sail to the West not long ago with her new husband, Lord Gendry Baratheon.

She sat down on the stone bench and folded the map, putting it away before chewing at the side of her thumb. Whether it was boredom or trepidation, she wasn’t sure. The entire situation seemed…off kilter. There was something bubbling beneath the surface she didn’t understand.

“My Lady.”

She quickly stood and curtseyed as the king walked around the corner and into the small clearing. “Your Grace.”

He reached for her hand and pressed another kiss to her knuckles. “I’ve been told you are the fifth of eight children.”

She frowned at the strange start of the conversation but did nothing to deter it. “Yes, Your Grace. Two sisters and five brothers.”

Robb hummed and nodded, eyes raking down her form. “And your sister? She’s pregnant with her second child. After only two years of marriage.”

She nodded. “Yes. They are hoping for another boy.”

Robb’s eyes closed and another smile touched his lips, this one much more relaxed, as he settled on the bench behind him. “Good. That’s good.” She moved to sit beside him when he pressed a hand against her stomach and pushed her back. Her feet stumbled and he caught her at the waist, pressing his fingers into her skin with a grip that stung. “No. I want to look at you.”

Standing tall, she tried to even out her breath as she felt his eyes start to roam. His hands moved to her hips and his thumbs dug into bottom of her stomach, pulling a gasp from her lips. “Y-your Grace?”

“These…” He squeezed her hips. “These could do nicely.”

She looked down at her hips he seemed to be so attentive to, wondering what he could possibly mean. “Princess Arianne said I had my mother’s hips, perfect for children.” The compliment had always been a strange one, but the Princess assured her it was good.

Robb dragged her close, feet once again tangling and almost careening her forward as the young king kept her mostly steady. “Your father and Prince Doran have assured me that you are pure. I will ask you this only once. If you lie, I will know and the consequences will be severe. Do you understand me?”

“Y-yes, Your Grace.” Her heart was hammering a painful beat against her ribs as he looked up at her. “I understand.”

“Have you ever been with another man?” His eyes pinned her, cold and knowing.

“No. I have never even…” her words trailed off as heat washed down her spine.

“Finish what you were saying.” Another squeeze to her hips.

“I have never been kissed, Your Grace, let alone laid with a man. I am afraid my inexperience will only disappoint you.”

Robb’s answering smile reminded her of his family’s sigil; sharp, snarling teeth. As he stood, his hands slid up her sides, thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts, and dragged her close. “You are mistaken, my lady. You have made me very happy.” And he kissed her then, stealing her breath as he pried her lips apart and shoved his tongue into her mouth. Shaking hands found purchase in his dark-colored tunic as she tried to keep up with his mouth that seemed determined to devour her whole.

The examination by the maester had left her shaking. “She is untouched, Your Grace,” the maester said to Robb as he waited outside her chambers. “As promised.”

The door hadn’t even closed and he was basically shouting her purity to the halls of the Keep. She curled into a ball on her featherbed and drew a pillow to her chest as if that would help take away the embarrassment and the discomfort from the Maester’s previously prodding instruments and fingers. She barely heard them speaking of fertility, her mother’s, her sister’s. Hers. Her bed dipped with the weight of someone sitting but she didn’t turn to see who it was, expecting her father.

“Could I have some tea, please, papa?” The old nickname for her father slipped out. “I feel like…I feel like my body doesn’t belong to me anymore.”

“It doesn’t.”

She sat straight at the sound of the king’s voice, fright grasping at her heart. “Your Grace, I-I-I-”

Robb suddenly loomed over her, legs bracketing her thighs and pressing her against her pillows. His hand slithered its way under her chemise to press against her bare stomach and she felt her heart try to lodge itself up in her throat. The scent of him, of leather and spice and ale, flooded her senses as he leaned closer to breathe his words against her mouth. “This belongs to me. All of it. All of you. I will make you round with my children as many times as your body can take if it pleases me.”

“Y-your Grace-” Her scared eyes looked over his shoulder to see the door to her chambers had been shut, sealing her away from the world.

“You will give me an heir that is mine without question and then you will give me more. More children to fill these cursed halls with something other than the whispers of politics and subterfuge.” He sat back on his heels watched her heaving chest with a smile that looked too soft for him now. “You have made me a very happy man, Y/N.”

Her name sounded strange on his tongue.

And she hated how much she liked it.

The ceremony had been ornate and befitting of the young king and his new queen. She traded her father’s colors for black and grey and silver and felt the snarling direwolf pressing against her back with the new bridal cloak even as his pretty lips pressed against hers and the crowd cheered.

She was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

His third queen.

The festivities came and went and soon she was alone with him in his chambers and he hardly kissed her again before her dress was discarded and her chemise torn to near shreds. And it hurt. Every slap of his hips as he rutted against her brought her closer to some strange precipice she couldn’t name, cresting between pleasure and pain. Coiling tighter and tighter in her stomach like a terrible snake.

“You’ll give me a boy,” he said, breath hot against her ear as he dragged her ever closer. “You’ll give me children.”

“I will,” she whimpered in return, fingers trying to find a grip on his slick back. A scream nearly wrenched its way from her throat as he sunk his teeth into her shoulder. “I will!”

His thrusts turned animalistic and her head nearly hit the carved headboard as he pushed her further and further up the overstuffed featherbed and then, with a final thrust, he sunk his deepest yet into her and stayed there as warmth shot through her.

And her coil snapped, legs shaking and eyes rolling with convulsions she couldn’t stop.

He stayed inside her for a while, prick softening. And it was the gentlest he’d been with her since the ceremony, letting his hands roam her torso, sponging kisses to her face and breasts, murmuring how she’d give him an heir.

“I will,” she said again, words not her own, body still reeling with aftershocks. “I will.”

Robb held her face in his hands and kissed her slowly, almost repentantly. “You will. Or you will see The Stranger just as Roslin and Margaery did. Do you understand?”

It was only after she had ‘accepted’ his proposal had she learned that Roslin had birthed a boy that could never have been Robb’s son, born too early to have been conceived by him, and Margaery had been barren. She nodded and gently pushed the hair away from his eyes, now uncaring that they held very little warmth when they looked at her. Maybe they would when she gave him a son. Maybe he could love her then.

When he finally pulled out of her, he canted her hips up and shoved a pillow beneath them to keep her aloft. “Stay like that until morning.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

A/N: Well, there you go. Please tell me what you think.��

Part two

#Robb Stark x Reader #roosoldhollywood #darkfic #dub-con #Robb Stark #game of thrones #dubious consent #dub con #trigger warning #tw: dub con #tw: dub-con #tw: dubious consent

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rickon-on-skagos · 4 years

Text

Thaw

Pairing: Ned/Cersei

Prompt: Thaw from @asoiafrarepairs Spring Event

+++

From the way her bed was positioned in the room, Cersei could see the down into the yard. She spent most of the day looking out of the window since there was not much else to do since Maester Luwin had prescribed her bed rest for the last month of her pregnancy for both her and the baby’s health. For a while, she had tried to keep herself busy with needlework but quickly grew bored of it.

She and Eddard had only been married for a little bit over a year but Cersei had quickly grew into her role at Winterfell, enjoying the way Ned trusted her to keep the servants in check. It was very different from what she was used to from Casterly Rock. Her father would have never let her do that, not when there were Kevan, Tygett or Gerion around. She had been there to look pretty and seduce the prince, nothing more.

It hadn’t worked out how her father had planned. Cersei hadn’t married a prince and not the king, either. The prince had died and the king- the new king Robert Baratheon, First of his name- had married his true love Lyanna Stark. She had ended up with Eddard Stark. Her father had pushed for the match, unsurprisingly since there were almost no other man left that had been highborn enough for a match with her as Stannis Baratheon had married Catelyn Stark and her father would have never married her to Jon Arryn.

She had been angry. She had raged about having to marry the northern recluse and moving into this sparse land. Cersei had wanted Jaime. She could not be queen but Jaime had been released from the Kingsguard and had come home, back to her just that she had to leave for Winterfell and he had to marry the other Tully girl, Lysa. Cersei had never been more mad in her life. Being in the North had not helped with that. The wedding had happened in the godswood, a place that still made her feel queasy today, and it had only made things worse back then.

A soft knock snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Come in.” She called.

Her husband looked almost sheepish as he came into the room, carrying a small tray. Cersei sat up a little straighter, one hand cradling her bump as he approached the bed. A delicious smell wafted over to her and her mouth started watering almost immediately. He made to say something but Cersei was faster.

“What’s that?” She asked, already reaching for the tray.

He chuckled at lowly at that, his eyes wrinkling up as the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

“You said you wanted honey cakes so I got you some.”

The cakes were delicious, sweet and crumbly, just the way she liked them best and she hummed around every bite, even going so far to lick her fingers clean of any residue. With no one but her husband in the room, she thought to let this slip for once. She was pregnant and very uncomfortable, after all.

“It’s thawing.” He said, looking out of the window. “Winter is over, a raven from the Citadel arrived today.”

She watched him for a long moment, took him in and pondered. During the past few months, she had demanded some outlandish foods to fulfill her cravings and every single time, Eddard had gotten it and personally brought it to her. Robert would have never and she doubted Rhaegar would have either. But Eddard had. He also started taking his dinner in her chambers with her, trying to make it every evening and if he couldn’t, he’d send her an apology. It was… nice.

Cersei did not love Eddard Stark but she stopped being so angry a while back. She had come here with every intend to wage war against the man who hated her brother so much for every day as long as she lived, had expected him to be cold and harsh, cruel-hearted. But he wasn’t. He had not greeted her with open arms but neither had she and it had taken them a long time until she had grown tired of lashing out and he had enough of avoiding her and then even longer for them work out somewhat of a system.

He had come to her chamber a lot more, afterwards. It had been one of the things she gave him early into her marriage: Laying with Eddard had never been awful. Awkward, impersonal and, at times, stilted and cold but never bad. He had never slept with a woman before her which had been painfully obvious and he wasn’t her Jaime- nobody could ever be him- but he had been careful and patient, taking to her directions easily enough.

She rubbed her bump, well aware of how he followed the movement, his fingers twitching.

Cersei would almost call him handsome in this light. Not an almost ethereal beauty like Jaime was or Rhaegar had been or a rugged attractiveness like Robert but Ned was handsome, in a way. He was softer than his solemn face made him look but not weak how she had assumed at first. His eyes were dark grey and by all accounts, he should come off as cold and unapproachable but he didn’t.

Her father had ruled by fear, making sure everyone knew what would happen when they betrayed the Lannisters but not Eddard. Eddard invited people to the high table during the rare feasts they held in the Great Hall and listened to them, talked with them and shared laughter with them. It had puzzled her- still did, sometimes- to see him rule with kindness and honor instead of terror. Nobody in Winterfell covered in fear at the name of their liege lord and many came to him for counsel, nobody fearing him like they feared her father.

Eddard was a good man.

“Give me your hand.” She said.

It surprised him, she could see it on his face but he did without asking any questions and she grabbed his wrist, pulling him closer until she could put it on her stomach. She held his hand- rough and calloused- in place and the child did not disappoint, kicking hard and strong. She winced uncomfortable.

“They’re strong.” Eddard said, a visible smile on his face.

“A strong son.” She agreed.

She had to give him a son, father expected it of her. Every man wanted sons for their legacy. A long time ago, back when she had been a child and still naive, she had wished for daughters so she could brush their hair until it shone, read them the stories her mother used to read her and gift them dresses, jewelry and puppets for their name days. She quickly lost those dreams once she grew up. Men needed sons, not daughters.

“No matter whether it’s a son or a daughter, as long as they are healthy, I am happy.”

Cersei looked up at him, green eyes meeting grey ones, and she saw the honesty in them and when Eddard leaned forward- obviously having seen something in her eyes, too- to kiss her brow, she didn’t flinch away.

+++

The snow had not melted away completely when Cersei went into labour. Eddard hadn’t been with her when the contractions started but he was by her side once she was in the maester’s chamber, looking frazzled and worried. He held her hand as she screamed and cursed him to the seven hells and back for making her go through this.

The air grew hot and stuffy quickly, her sweat-damp hair clinging to her skin as she pushed and pushed. It smelled like blood, too, and Cersei gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. Eddard’s hand was surprisingly cool as he brushed a strand of hair out of her face, whispering encouragement and praise.

She didn’t know how long it took but her voice grew rough at some point and her breaths were closer to pants. It was the most humiliating thing Cersei had ever experienced. Spread apart and so undignified, she felt exposed and vulnerable and she wanted it to stop. Tears were burning in her eyes but she refused to let them fall, no matter how much it hurt. She was a lioness and lions do not cry. She gasped for air, fingers squeezing tight around Eddard’s hand.

Cold lips were pressed against her temple and she instinctively leaned into the touch, mouthing words she herself didn’t know what they meant. A wail stopped her and she gasped, immediately trying to sit up just to be pushed down by the midwife.

“Let me-” She rasped. “Let me see my child.”

It was a boy. Her son was small with pink skin, soft tufts of light hair and grey eyes and still screaming when she took him from the maester, announcing his presence loudly and Cersei loved him.

He was perfect, absolutely perfect.

+++

The godswood unnerved her still, especially the heart tree with its weeping face. She had rarely been to the Stone Garden in Casterly Rock, never seen a reason to. Something about the northern woods felt different.

Her shoes sank into the muddy ground and she pursed her lips, her skirts lifted to not drag through the dirt. Spring had fully arrived and most of the snow had melted already, leaving everything wet and muddy. It wasn’t warm, yet, and Cersei wondered if it ever really got warm up here.

She finally found her husband underneath the heartree, sitting in the shadow of the big tree, their son in his arms. He was talking in a too low voice for her to hear but she could see his lips move, not even noticing her as he was too focused on their son. It did something to her, seeing him taking an interest in their child. She pushed the feeling down harshly, not liking the way her heart leaped in her chest when she saw him sitting in the nursery, rocking an upset Robb back to sleep as if it was nothing.

“My lord.” She called out, catching his attention.

He smiled at her and for a moment, Cersei wondered how she looked to him. She was beautiful, she knew that but what did he think about her? She had to look awfully out of place with her golden hair, her dress that, despite being weather appropriate, had a distinct style that was popular in the Westerland, adorned with complicated embroidery and the heavy golden jewelry she had brought with her. She didn’t look like the northern ladies that had visited Winterfell and she didn’t try to. Cersei was a lioness.

“My lady.” He replied as he stood up.

She crossed the little clearing, passing by the dark pool and when Eddard held out his hand for her, she took it and let him guide her to where he had been sitting. He sat down next to her, Robb still safely nestled in his arm, blinking up owlishly at his father. She reached for him and Eddard gave him to her easily and both of them smiled at their son, soft and unguarded.

“Maester Luwin was looking for you.” She said, suddenly remembering why she had come to look for him in the first place. “A letter from White Harbor arrived today.”

Eddard nodded shortly and thanked her, kissing her brow again before leaving, his form quickly disappearing between the trees. She looked down at Robb and smiled when he grasped for her fingers, making some gurgling noises. It almost made her less angry about the letter tucked away in a pocket of her dress but not forgotten.

She had written her father as soon as she could, telling him about the birth of his grandson and in his response he had not asked about her health, only asked- no, demanded- for another son to secure the line of inheritance. That was all that mattered to him. Eddard was different in that regard.

Maester Luwin had advised them to wait a few moons before laying together again and Eddard had not pressed but accepted it. She had always heard about him being honorable to a fault but she had not expected him to actually be like that. Not once did he try to sleep with her anyway and she had yet to hear about any secret trips to the brothels in Wintertown.

Robb yawned and Cersei kissed his forehead. She loved him so much it almost scared her. She didn’t even love Jaime this much and even if he would ride up to Winterfell now and asked her to abandon everything to run away with him she wouldn’t. Because of Robb.

“I love you.” She whispered to him. She had never told anyone but Jaime this. “I love you so much, little lion.”

He just blinked at her, not understanding what she was saying but paying attention anyway and Cersei laughed. He looked a little bit like his father in that moment, she thought. Robb would never feel like an outsider here, the godswood would never be unnerving to him and he would be a great lord, she would make sure of it.

+++

Cersei gave Robb to the handmaiden along with a few more instructions and once everything was to her satisfaction, she left and made her way towards Eddard’s chamber. Her heart was fluttering in her chest and she didn’t understand why. He was her husband, he had seen her naked several times and she had never been shy about her attractiveness nor sex but when Maester Luwin had told her she was cleared to see after her wifely duties again, something like nervousness had lodged itself into her stomach. It was still there when she knocked on his door.

He looked a little bit surprised to see her but let her in anyway and as soon as he closed the door again, she stepped into his space. Since he was only a few inches taller than her, they were almost eye to eye when she wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers curling into his long, dark strands. Almost hesitantly, he put his hands on her hips.

“Cersei?” He asked quietly, a slight frown appearing on his face.

She licked her lips, taking him in and finally leaned forwards, brushing their lips together in an almost tender kiss. Eddard let her, his fingers flexing slightly and he kissed her back shyly. Cersei had never slept with anyone just because she wanted to except Jaime but somehow, Ned had sneaked his way into her heart. She hadn’t even noticed.

“Maester Luwin gave me the clear today.” She said once they pulled apart. “I thought it was a reason to celebrate, my lord.”

“Are you sure?”

She smiled and pressed herself further against him, enjoying the way she could feel his body warmth through their clothes. Her nose brushed over Eddard’s, his breath was hot on her cheek and Cersei felt almost giddy.

“Absolutely, my lord.”

He lifted her up easily, making her first yelp in surprise and then laugh as he carried her over to the bed, carefully laying her out on the soft furs.

“Call me Ned, please.”

“Ned.” She said, not stumbling over the name despite being unfamiliar with it.

That night, Cersei did not sleep alone, instead found herself wrapped in a tight embrace, Ned’s legs entangled with hers and her head resting on his shoulder. She splayed her hand over his chest, absently playing with the coarse chest hair growing there. Ned was fast asleep, his hand loosely tangled into her hair, too, snoring softly.

Cersei closed her eyes, feeling more warm and comfortable than ever before, and wished for a spring to bring her a girl.

#nedsei #ned x cersei #my writing

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jade-masquerade · 3 years

Text

Jonsa Halloween Day 4: singing to the stranger, begging for his kiss (quotes and monsters)

Written for @jonsa-halloween Day 4: Quotes and Monsters

“Seasons of My Love” ebbed away, replaced by the far more upbeat “Fifty-Four Tuns.” Those on the floor formed two lines again and then looped into two circles that rotated opposite of each other, switching their direction each time the chorus came around again. Even though Sansa had looked forward all night to this particular song and the ribaldry and laughter it never failed to bring about, she clung tight to Jon.

There were a few other couples that did the same, unwilling to separate from their partners or share them with another for even a moment, though Sansa suspected some were also unaware of the change in pace given their deep state of infatuation with each other. The couple of Florian and Jonquil she saw earlier were now entwined with each other and sharing a series of sloppy kisses, while Shella had rucked up her skirts a bit to grind up against the solid leg of her Rainbow Knight, her mouth hung open as he palmed her breasts.

Sansa glanced away quickly once she realized what they were doing, blushing, even as the wanton part of her that had persuaded her to engage in this masquerade in the first place wondered how that would feel, if it would be as pleasurable as the few times she had permitted her hand to wander beneath her dressing gown or better.

She knew what those lining the floor must think, that they were one of those similar pairs too enamored with each other to care about those around them or to give consideration to where they were. She was surprised when the thought of that thrilled her rather than disturbed her, that the prospect was one that she could contemplate at all.

Sansa had thought of how sweet to see Jon once again, but this was more than that. This was heady, overwhelming in a strange, exhilarating kind of way. It all easily could have made her weak-kneed, but Jon’s steady hands held her up as they swayed, so warm she could feel them through the wool of her dress

She couldn’t help but think Jon had grown handsome in their time apart. He looked nothing like the golden princes she loved in her youth, but rather rugged, with a mystery to him, and an edge and a certain darkness. It didn’t frighten her though; instead there was a familiarity, a comfort with him, that she had lacked with so many of the others she had crossed paths with during her time as Alayne.

Truthfully, she understood this feeling Jon had mentioned, as silly as it sounded. She had experienced it too, when he swept her into his arms, even before she’d known who he truly was. Many a time she had prayed to the gods, old and new, for a respite from this series of nightmares, for an escape, and when moons had gone by without so much of a sign, she had nearly lost the faith all together, but she found amusement in the irony now that Jon came dressed as the Stranger himself.

They danced more intimately than Sansa had with any of her previous partners that night, yet she felt no need to pull away. Before she had known, she’d suspected there might have been a glimmer of desire there on Jon’s part, but even then he tried nothing and took no liberties. Jon held her as tight as Walder Upcliff had, she felt his body strong and firm against hers, and his eyes darkened the way she’d noticed with several other men, but those reactions in Jon did not frighten her. Perhaps it was all simple male mechanics; she knew there were no women in the Night’s Watch, after all.

“You shouldn’t be here!” she hissed, suddenly panicked, glancing down at his Night’s Watch blacks.

“Nor should you,” he said, his tone a low, gravelly rumble that that made her belly flutter.

“I don’t have a choice. Cersei would have had my head, or the Boltons,” she said. “But Father always said deserters…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the rest, but she knew he had grown up hearing the same, even witnessing such justice.

He reached up, unlaced the top of his tunic, and pulled down the collar. A couple of raised, healed over wounds marred his chest there—one along his sternum, one even deeper just to the right of that where it surely would have penetrated his heart—and she could feel more beneath his shirt as she drew her hand down his body.

She gasped as she traced along them. She supposed anyone else would have called them ugly, but she knew scars meant strength, that they meant survival. “How did you…?”

“I didn’t.” He told her of his brothers’ betrayal, of Ghost, of the red witch. “So I thought that satisfied my vows.”

If he were anyone else, she might have thought it a jest, or perhaps a tale told with the intention to scare her, but she knew better than that of Jon.

“Do you think me a monster?”

There are no heroes, she’d thought once. In life, the monsters win. The girl she’d been then had known nothing, having just witnessed the cruelties of life for the first time. Now, though, she knew better: that sometimes heroes did terrible things, and that sometimes those the world considered monsters were not always what they seemed. “No. Of course not. Does that make me a fool?”

“Not any more than I.”

Compared to those that surrounded them, countless Ser Artys Arryns, several Symeon Star-Eyes, and even a few Ser Aemon the Dragonknights, perhaps Jon looked to be a monster with his hood up and mask on, hair dark, eyes dark, but appearances could be deceiving. There were some who had dressed as monsters—Balerion the Black Dread, freakish chimeras, vicious hellhounds—but Sansa knew now that more often than not mere men, even those with the handsomest faces, could be far more dangerous than any creatures from the kinds of stories Old Nan used to tell.

“I’ve never known a monster to be so kind.”

He smiled at that, and she was struck again by how much he had changed and how little he resembled the brooding boy she remembered. “You don’t know all of what I’ve done.”

She shrugged. “We’ve all done what we need to survive. And do monsters not usually have skin icy to the touch, or mottled and scaled?”

“Old Nan’s stories always seemed to suggest so,” he said, the corners of his mouth pulling up again.

“Yours is quite warm,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat.

Sansa glanced away, but she felt his gaze stay on her all the same. She wondered if she should say more, or if he would think her the monster instead if she admitted to finding him comely before she had recognized him, and even after, even now, she found herself rather taken by his looks.

“Who are those men?”

Sansa scanned across the floor. Alyssa and Harry had disappeared, and she desperately hoped she would not be expected to play along that she’d lost her maidenhead to him or performed something else more perverse for him this night later on when she was compelled to take up the mantle of Alayne again. An unidentifiable man had his face buried in Myranda Royce’s bosom as she giggled. And then her eyes fell upon Ser Shadrich standing on the edges of his tip toes to whisper in the ear of Lothor Brune.

“Littlefinger’s men.” She turned away quickly, but evidently not fast enough, and she could feel the growl in Jon’s chest when he met their stare. A tremble went through her, and she was grateful for the support of Jon’s strong arms.

“We should leave,” he said.

“No, we can’t,” she said. “They’ll only know something is out of sorts and follow.”

“At least pull up the hood of your cloak,” he said, pressing his cheek right up against hers so his words would have no chance of being caught by another.

“My hair will make no matter if they can still see my face,” she said, and she wondered if Jon could feel the pounding of her heart, the fear slipping down her spine.

“Sansa…” He turned so her back faced them, but her skin still prickled with the familiar feeling of their eyes boring into her. If they had reason to suspect, if they decided to near, if they drew close enough to snatch her mask…

“Kiss me, please,” she pleaded. She wondered if he would think she’d lost her mind, wondered what it would take to convince him. “Just kiss me.”

He flicked his eyes over to where Petyr’s men stood again, and then, so quickly she didn’t even have time to close her eyes, he pressed his lips to hers.

She snapped them shut, if only to block out the world around them. She expected Jon to linger there for a few moments, still and tepid, just long enough for them to lose interest and get swept up in ale or other matters. But then he began to move, slowly at first, and then she discovered that Jon’s kisses were nothing like the ones she had been imagining, nothing like the ones she had experienced before, kisses that were stiff and perfunctory, cool and pepperminty.

No, these kisses were hot and hard and fast until they became deep and full of an intensity in which she could easily find herself carried away, and suddenly there was nothing strange about him and oddly enough nothing strange about this either. She was merely a lady kissing a man she loved, and she sank into this sense of familiarity, desire stirring inside of her, her body responding before she could think of what this meant.

When they broke away and she looked up at last, Ser Shadrich and Ser Lothor had vanished, but the heat had not gone from Jon’s eyes.

#Jonsa #Jonsa Halloween #Jon x Sansa #My fic

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vivilove-jonsa · 4 years

Note

“You do know your dress is on fire, right?”

Hello @pkwolf-writes and thank you for the dialogue prompt! I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to answer. I first thought of something canon setting for this but the dialogue felt modern so I hope you’ll enjoy this :)

Feeling anxious and wanting some privacy, Sansa slips away from her parents and siblings’ interviews to the nearby sept, hoping to find a little peace and quiet while she gathers her thoughts.

The dress is gorgeous, she will give them that. A lovely ivory shade with elegantly beaded bodice, billowing skirts and a sweeping train, it’s all her girlhood fairy tale wedding gown fantasies rolled into one.

If only I could take more than three steps in it without knocking something over…and if only I still believed in fairy tales.

She sighs, telling herself that’s no good. Her fairy tales reside in storybooks where they belong and she’s not marrying some dashing prince with a heart of gold.

Well, he could be…

She doesn’t know for sure. She only knows his name is Jon and they’re getting married in a couple of hours on live television.

How did Sansa Stark, a bonafide romantic all the way down to her toes, wind up agreeing to say ‘I do’ to a stranger on Westeros’ ridiculous but incredibly popular reality show ‘My Honeymoon with a Stranger?’

It’s a long, sad story full of disappointing relationships and one meddlesome friend whose family happens to produce the show.

“It’s fun, Sansa! You’ll be a celebrity!”

“Not one of my life goals, Margaery.”

“You get an amazing vacation out of it.”

“With a stranger.”

“Yeah, but three weeks at the Summer Isles…”

“With a film crew.”

“And if you’re not blissfully happy by the end of the three weeks…”

“I can add divorcée to my résumé.”

Anyway, she’d agreed and there was no going back now. She’d signed a contract and Arya had promised to come gut the guy if he tried any funny business. Yes, you were married at first sight and obligated to spend a three-week honeymoon at a secluded island retreat together (being filmed nearly round-the-clock) but that didn’t mean you had to consummate that marriage. Plenty of the couples in past seasons certainly had (always a big boost to the ratings even if it was blurred out and edited to a couple of minutes on the air).

But only one couple from the show has actually stayed married, sweet Sam and his Gilly. Now, that was the kind of strangers-fall-in-love story Sansa could root for unlike the drama and shenanigans most people tuned into ‘My Honeymoon with a Strange’ to watch. She’d been so thrilled to get to meet them last week and hear their story face to face.

The sept is beautiful, filled with stained glass and tons of votive candles all around the room. It could be the wedding of Sansa’s dreams. You know, if I was actually in love with the groom and wasn’t wondering if the wedding segment would be bookended between advertisements for divorce attorneys and birth control.

Sansa lights a candle at each statue of the seven and then lights one candle for each member of her family, thankful they’ve been supportive and had a good sense of humor about all this. They’ll be there to help her pick up the pieces when this all ends in disaster without a doubt. Then, she lights a candle for her groom. She doesn’t know him but she hopes he’s a nice man and they can at least get along over the next three weeks even if…

“You do know your dress is on fire, right?”

“What?!”

She spins, surprised to find herself no longer alone and to find the owner of that deep husky voice with the Northern accent right behind her.

The incredibly handsome owner of that deep husky voice with the Northern accent is right behind her…and stomping on the train of her dress at the moment! The blasted train must’ve swept across one of those votives on the floor. It’d be just her luck to be burned alive before she ever says ‘I do.’

“Oh gods!” she shouts, instinct prompting her to run away from the fire.

“Don’t run! That’ll make it spread!”

He grasps her wrist to keep her still. His grip is strong but not hurting. He continues his series of quick stomping motions until the last of the fire is out, leaving a strong odor of smoke in its wake. Her heart is pounding but the fear is residing.

Once it’s out, he looks up at her sheepishly with grey eyes and half a smile as his hand’s raking through a headful of dark curls. “I’m terribly sorry about your lovely dress.”

The train is a blackened ruin but she’s alright and that’s what matters. The producers will probably be pissed…that the film crew didn’t catch this. “Don’t apologize. You saved me. Thank you.”

“Anytime. I was just wanting a little quiet when I came in here and…” He’s scrubbing at his beard and his cheeks are growing pink. “I didn’t expect we’d meet like this.”

“Were we going to meet some other way?” she asks, amused by the stranger’s choice of words.

“Well, I figured we’d be meeting in another hour or so. Sam said you were beautiful and had red hair.”

“Sam? Sam Tarly?”

“Yeah, my best friend. He talked me into giving this a whirl but I’ve been a nervous wreck all day. I saw you lighting your candles and you’re in a wedding dress so I figured it must be you. I was going to leave and let you have your own space but you were so radiant that I couldn’t stop staring at you and…” He chuckles and covers his eyes. “Gods, I’m probably making a fool of myself. Please, tell me you’re Sansa.”

Thunderstruck, her eyes finally take note of his clothes. He’s just in his undershirt but his trousers are decidedly dressy, a dark grey pinstripe, and his black dress shoes were probably quite polished before he’d put out a fire.

“Wait…you’re Jon?”

“Yeah.”

He holds out his hand to shake. Like something out of a grand romance, Sansa would swear she feels electricity tingling all through her body when their hands are clasped for a few precious seconds.

“I am Sansa and it’s very nice to meet you, Jon. Thank you again for coming to my rescue.”

He gives her a fetching grin, his eyes crinkling up at the corners in an adorably fetching manner. “I always dreamt of being some girl’s hero when I was a boy. Guess it’s only proper it might be the woman I’m marrying, huh? Even if she’s ready to divorce me next month.”

“Oh, I don’t know about all that, Jon. Let’s see how the honeymoon goes first, shall we?”

#jonsa fanfiction #jonsa #dialogue prompt #pkwolf-writes #vivilove-jonsa fic

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anniebibananie · 5 years

Note

Arya and Jon go back to Winterfell after they kill Dany to find Gendry and Sansa waiting for them. Please and thank you!

hi this turned into a weird brotp fic really but also there’s romance. also ghost is here because i said so. enjoy!!

Winterfell was quieter with the war on someone else’s doorstep. Sansa wasn’t sure how to fill all her time as she sat with the silence around her. She could continue making plans for repairs, but with the fighting men gone there was little they could do with those left behind. And her eyes could look at embroidery and needlepoint for only so many hours a day.

It was sort of empty—Winterfell without her family. Sansa could walk, though, and a week or so after Jon and Arya had left she found herself doing so past the forge. Maybe it was a longing, a sort of half-thought to Arya that pulled her in. Perhaps a sort of loneliness, really.

He was bent over something small, working with a concentration that Sansa found admirable. When he looked up and spotted her, he quickly stood to his feet.

“Lady Sansa.” He shifted from foot to foot. “Was there something I could do for you?”

She found a small smile playing at her lips, filled with amusement. He seemed sweet, and Sansa thought of Arya. Part of her wanted to know everything that had happened between them, not just the small bits of information Arya had been willing to share. Why was he here? she wondered. Where she is not.

“I wanted to ask you if you would be willing to dine with me tonight?” She held her hands in front of her. The forge was warm, and she already felt her palms grow slicker. “If you have other plans or lack the time, then don’t fret about it.”

I’m lonely, she thought but would never say. I miss my family.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s nonstop as of late,” he joked, but then he stood up straighter and cleared his throat as if he realized which Stark sister exactly he was speaking to. “I mean no offense, of course.”

She hummed. “I wouldn’t have asked you to sup if I wanted fake courtesies. I thought you might be missing my sister the same way I am. That is all.”

“I…” he trailed off, looking down at his shuffling feet and scratching at the back of his neck. He looked up again, and while Gendry wasn’t the sort of man Sansa could see herself falling for she saw the appeal. He was handsome—a durable, stable sort of man. “Yes. I’d like that.”

She nodded then, trying to hold back her smile. “I will see you tonight.”

“I might have…” Gendry paused, taking another sip from his cup as Sansa positioned her chair closer to the fire. “Well, I sort of proposed to her after that. I asked her to be the lady of Storm’s End.”

Sansa brought a hand to her mouth, covering it quickly as a laugh burst through. “I apologize. I don’t mean to laugh, I just—”

“Oh,” he near wailed in a way that made Sansa laugh again, “I was so stupid. I really got over excited because I was a lord and—”

“It’s sweet,” she said, leaning forward. “You love her.”

He shook his head as he looked down into his wine. “I should have known she wouldn’t want to marry. She’s got better things to do then sit around in some castle with the likes of me.”

“You love her,” Sansa repeated, articulating the words as they bounced off her tongue. “I know my sister. I have to admit there are things we’re still relearning about one another, but I know her. We spent a long time apart, but she’s my sister. She loves you, too.”

His eyebrows pushed together. “Then, why…”

“You asked her to be a lady,” Sansa said. “She wants you, not the titles or the castle or any of it. If you ask her better, she might say yes next time. Or perhaps not. She would say yes to you, though.”

She took a sip of her own wine, then, as she eyed out into the dark sky. It was getting late, and if she let Gendry stay for much longer she could only imagine the gossip that would rise around the castle. He was a lord now, after all, and people were expecting her to wed. Years ago, it had been another Baratheon she was promised to. It wouldn’t have seemed that far of a stretch to the imagination, she supposed.

“What about you, Lady Sansa?” he asked. “Have you been in love?”

The wine made her feel lighter. He was certainly feeling it himself with the way he had opened up about her sister.

“I think…” the words trailed off, and she thought about it then. Telling Gendry everything. Confiding in him. Perhaps it would feel as sweet as the wine they shared. She sighed. “It’s getting late,” she said instead.

The legs of his chair screeched against the stone of the floor as he stood. “Of course. Good night, Lady Sansa.”

“Gendry,” she said, waiting for him to turn. “You can call me Sansa. And I would like to do this again, if you can find the time.”

He smiled again. “My time is far less precious than yours. You can have however much of it you want, Sansa.”

She watched him exit with an inescapable smile on her lips.

It had become a sort of routine, the two of them. They didn’t eat together every night, but they saw each other often enough. Some days, Sansa would find him in the forge. Others, he joined her for a walk in the woods.

Nights together, though, remained Sansa’s favorite. It was when the loneliness crept in the most, and instead of having to deal with it alone she had Gendry by her side. The wine helped loosen their tongues, but these days there was an honesty that resided between them without it.

“This is Jon’s dog, right?” he asked one night from the floor as he was petting Ghost.

“Yes. Ghost,” Sansa said as she looked up from the shirt she was fixing the sleeve of for him. Ghost tilted his head, and Sansa smiled at him. “Jon almost let him leave with the wildlings.”

“But you didn’t let that happen?” Gendry asked, petting behind Ghost’s ears.

“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t think Jon was feeling quite himself.”

Gendry paused and sat up straighter. “How so?”

Sansa’s eyes were trained on the flames. “I’m quite certain he thought he was going to die. Or at least not return. Even if that’s the case, Ghost is part of the Stark family. He stays with me.”

As if sensing her words, Ghost stood to curl around Sansa’s feet. She bent forward and pet his head, feeling a familiar fondness swirl through her.

“You love him,” Gendry said suddenly, the thought clearly striking him all at once.

“Ghost?” Sansa asked lightly as she dipped forward to pet at his fur. “Yes, obviously.”

“Jon,” Gendry corrected.

Sansa’s body froze. She looked at him slowly, as if with each movement she was trying to decide just how to respond. Then, because Gendry was looking at her without judgement and the softest bit of affection that went straight for her chest and throat, she nodded. “Yes.” It was barely a whisper.

“He’s your cousin now. You could marry him, couldn’t you? When he returns.”

“I fear that the Dragon Queen has her claws in him.” She dropped the shirt into her lap, giving up on finishing that fine stitching that required too much of her focus. “They might be too deep. He might not want them to stop being deep.”

“You think he loves her?” he asked. There was a shock in his voice that surprised her.

“I think he has done what he felt he needed to to keep us safe and alive. I think at some point, the lines of need versus want may have become blurred.”

“I think…” Gendry began, his mind seemingly working hard if his furrowed brow was anything to go by, “he would prefer to be here. Home. With you all.”

Sansa appreciated the thought. She imagined Jon sitting back beside her again. She pictured Arya on the floor with Bran wheeled in, too. She even kept Gendry there. All of them together. It would be sort of wonderful.

“Maybe in another world I could have married you, Gendry Baratheon,” she said with a sad sort of smile.

He reflected it right back to her. “I’ll always be Gendry Waters, though. Won’t I? Bastard boys like Jon and I. That’s who we’ll always be, really.” The silence sat for a minute—not unkind, not uncomfortable. “I think you and I were probably always destined to love difficult people.”

“Yes, I think so, too,” Sansa nearly whispered, for some reason feeling a tear drip down her cheek. Before she could reach for it, Gendry was in front of her and wiping it away with the rough pad of his thumb.

“It would be nice, though,” Gendry said with a soft smile. “A low-born bastard could do a lot worse than someone like you, Sansa.”

“A cold Northern lady could do worse than someone like you, Gendry.”

She reached out a hand. He clasped it in return.

The Dragon Queen was dead. The letter had said it, and that meant many things. There were politics to be figured out. There were people who now needed homes and supplies. There was a future. Jon and Arya were alive. Mostly, selfishly, she cared only that it meant they would be coming home.

Sansa ran with the scroll in one hand, her skirts in the other, and found Gendry where she found him most days.

“They’re coming home,” she said breathlessly. She did not say they’ve won. She wasn’t sure any of them felt as if they actually had. What was winning when there was so much death? Destruction they wouldn’t be able to possibly all fix in their lifetimes?

“Arya, too?” he asked.

Sansa nodded, and he reached forward to clasp her in a hug. She let him twirl her around, her feet lifted from the ground, and she laughed with true, boisterous joy for what felt like the first time in months.

Sansa and Gendry stood side by side when they returned. He had wanted to hide away in the forge, sure Arya wanted nothing to do with him despite Sansa’s words to the contrary, but Sansa had put an end to that.

“You must,” she had said with a raise of her brow. “Would you deny your Queen?”

He lifted up his hammer, pointing it at her. “See. That’s just dirty. You’re playing dirty.”

She sighed with a roll of her eyes. “How about for me, then? I could use your support.”

“Fine.” He sighed, bent back over the sword. “For you, then.”

Jon came toward her with slow steps. It seemed as if he had aged years since she last saw him, but there was something open as he got closer. With each step he seemed wearier, more tired, but it was as if he was opening that door to allow her to see it.

“Sansa,” he said as he reached forward, cupping the back of her head and resting his own face into her neck. She could feel his breaths against her skin.

“You’re home now,” she said, trying to hold him tighter into herself. Maybe if she could bring him closer, hold him together, then he would feel more whole. He could feel safe enough to finally rest.

“What’s going on with you and Gendry?” Arya asked only a day later.

Sansa had been looking over notes at her desk, and she hadn’t heard the intrusion. Her heart jolted, and she brought a hand to her chest.

“I thought we agreed you would be more wary of frightening your dear sister.”

“Sorry.” She did not sound that sorry. Arya sat on the edge of the desk, wrinkling a scroll and throwing an apple up and down in smooth swoops. She caught it with a crisp snap. “He keeps talking about you.”

“We spent a lot of time together without you here.”

Arya raised a brow, and Sansa leaned back in her chair.

“I didn’t steal him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“He’s a person, not chattel. You couldn’t steal him.”

“Of course I couldn’t,” Sansa agreed. “Especially because he’s yours. He loves you, you know. He told me all about his tragic proposal. You might try talking to him. Properly so.”

Arya sighed, her gaze trailing away from her sister to the light from the window. “I know.”

“He’d give you whatever version of a future you wanted,” Sansa advised, dipping closer to her sister. “He just wants you.”

Arya turned to look at her over her shoulder, and she looked young. Sometimes, Sansa forgot that they were all barely more than children really. They had picked up their parent’s wars and ran with them, never getting the time to figure out what any of them wanted.

“Jon feels the same way about you,” Arya said. “He loves you, I’m pretty sure. I am usually quite good at picking up on those sorts of things these days.”

Sansa tilted her head. She was sort of surprised Arya would talk about it so willingly, but she thought it might have been a sort of gift Arya offered her. Maybe after all the death of King’s Landing, Arya was simply happy to be home and love her sister, whatever the strangeness that surrounded her love life may be. Sansa hoped that was the case.

“He loved her.” They had been beautiful together. Sansa still thought about them sitting side by side at her table, the way Jon and her used to before she came, and how powerful they had looked. “I don’t know if I could handle him loving me in halves because of what he still feels for her.”

“You should try talking to him,” Arya said as she popped back up to her feet and took a bite from the apple. “Maybe we both should try talking to these stupid boys.”

Sansa laughed. Months ago, she never would have imagined getting to this. “Maybe we should.”

Despite her conversation with Arya, Sansa let Jon rest for a few days before seeking him out to speak. That was what she told herself, anyways. It had nothing to do with fear and the idea that she had no idea where to start. Nothing at all.

She went to his chambers after supper, and she knocked. For a minute, she was sure he would not answer. Then he pulled open the door, and Sansa was shocked for a minute at the look of him.

His beard was cleaned up, his face looked fresh, and his hair fell freely around his shoulders. It was the most put together she had seen him in some time. He looked well-slept, and when she walked past him into the room it felt like he was at least attempting to step into whatever the future would be. There wasn’t the familiar weight of the past or the unbearable urgency of the present hanging anywhere in sight.

“Is this about Arya and Gendry?” he asked. “I already told them I wouldn’t say anything until—”

“Did you walk in on them?” Sansa asked with a bit of surprise. She laughed as his face turned sour, a true belly-full laugh. “No, I didn’t come here to talk about Arya and Gendry. Though, I’m glad they’ve worked it all out.”

“And you’re not upset?” he asked.

“Should I be?” she returned with a tilt of her head.

“I heard you and Lord Baratheon have grown quite close in our absence.” His face didn’t look angry, though, just teasing. Maybe a little sad, if anything.

“I’m sure you’ve learned at some point that we need friends outside of our family,” Sansa said. She smiled, feeling unable to carry any sort of heaviness tonight across from him. “No, my heart never could have belonged to him, anyways. I’d given it to someone a while ago, though I was certain they’d already given theirs to someone else.”

Jon’s brows crashed together, and she wondered if she had perhaps been too vague or if he would catch her meaning. Maybe she had crossed a line.

“Sansa,” he began, soft and slow as he stepped nearer her, “are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

She shrugged. “You’d have to be a bit more specific on what you’re thinking. I’ve found I’m not always sure what that is.”

He released a long breath. “I never loved her. I couldn’t, not when I’d chosen to love someone else already.”

Sansa was afraid to hope, to dare it to be true. Maybe that was all they had for the future now, though, an opportunity to open themselves to the fear and joy of actual happiness. She held onto Jon’s face, and he didn’t pull back.

“You love me?” she asked, feeling fragile and cracked open and a million other dangerous things.

He nodded. “I do.” Then, he broke the space between them and kissed her soundly.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, she kissed him back with only love and joy. Only with peace. It felt like coming home. It felt like they already were home, and finally they knew it wasn’t going anywhere. She was surprised to find she could feel herself growing used to the feeling already.

Gendry found her standing between the battlements, looking off at the rolling lands beyond the castle walls. It was a nice day, and Sansa thought she could perhaps feel the winds of spring already falling over the North.

“You were right, you know,” Gendry said. “It really pains me to say it.”

“You were right, too,” she said, turning toward him and giving a teasing smile. “Though, probably not as right as I was.”

“Maybe we don’t love quite as difficult of people as we thought.”

“No.” Sansa shook her head. Their eyes met, and Sansa knew the two of them understood each other in a way that would never disappear. He was part of her family now, too. “They’re difficult through and through. We’re simply stubborn in return.”

He scoffed. “A bull loving a wolf, and a wolf loving a dragon. It sounds like a pitiful joke.”

“No,” she repeated. Her smile was sort of mischievous, sort of powerful. Sansa felt happy, truly and fully. “It sounds like a story. A good one, if I do say so myself.”

#jonsa #gendrya #jon x sansa #gendry x arya #gendry waters #this is mostly friendship fic tbh #i always loved this thing in old gadge fic #where peeta and madge would be like #what if we loved one another instead #wouldn't it be easier #so tha tmakes an appearance here basically #annie writes #my fanfiction #prompts #gendrya prompts #jonsa prompts #1k

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becausewerebatfam · 5 years

Text

Our Future (1)

Jason Todd x Reader

After a failed mission you and Jason are being left behind to care for a kid while the rest of the team look for Duella Dent.

Warning: Language and maybe suggestive content.

A yellow portal opened in the middle of the street prompting everyone’s attention. Batman scowled knowing exactly what was going to happen. He readied himself for the threat to come when the portal sparked and grew to stable conditions.

“Sh*t-” a smallish boy groaned as he fell out of the portal and landed on the ground face first. Lucky for him he had a full helmet to protect him from any serious damage. As soon as he was out the portal shrank until it had completely vanished. The boy shook his head a few times trying to recalibrate himself. “Well f*ck this-” he pulled the helmet off when he noticed half of his vision was compromised by large and small cracks alike.

“You look a little young to be using that kind of language.” Batman guessed the boy to be around preteen age after seeing his face.

The boy’s eyes widened when he saw who he was in the presence of. “Holy sh*t it’s really you Batman!” This Batman was wearing a cape, not a trenchcoat. He had made it to the right place or time to be exact.

+++

“I would never sleep with you! Not even in a million years you-you-”

“Handsome jerk?” he offered with a playful smirk. Jason admitted he would cross the line often when it came to you. It was just a natural instinct for him to flirt with and or around you just for the attention. He didn’t care if it was negative or positive he just wanted your attention at all times.

“Grrrahhh!” You stormed out with a frustrated semi-groan scream combo. If you stayed any longer you probably would have given in.

While some girls fantasized about a sweet, romantic gentleman who treated them like princesses you preferred the rugged, confident guys with cocky attitudes. You never knew that was your type but you fell in love with Jason who was all those things so you figured it out along the way.

There was shock mixed with confusion on Wally’s face as he and the others watched your retreating figure. “What was that?”

“Todd’s attempt at courtship.” Damian had been witness to this and many similar scenes between the two of you.

Jason sat back with a triumphant smirk. He had waited all day for this moment of satisfaction. While others were content seeing their loved ones smile Jason looked for a more explosive reaction.

“Courtship?” Wally asked thinking he had to have misheard the young Wayne because Jason looked way too happy for someone who just got turned down.

Wally and Jon looked at each other with mouths agape when Damian nodded. They shrugged wondering what the heck he was so happy about. Jon was particularly glad to finally have someone else around who thought the interactions between you two were strange.

Dick laughed and explained the unique situation between you and Jason. "Y/N is just as stubborn and headstrong as Jason.” Neither of you wanted to admit it but you liked each other. Jason would chase away any guys who dared go near you even if they were just friends. While you would sabotage his flirting or act out physically by hitting him. “She says it’s accidentally but-”

Everyone became silent as the Batmobile came into the Batcave at full speed. Bruce emerged asking for you by name.

“She’s not here,” Jason immediately got up getting a bad feeling from Bruce’s entrance.

“We need to find her.”

Jason didn’t need to be told twice to go look for you. He was already thinking of all the places you could be. If he hadn’t pissed you off you would still be there waiting for Bruce to brief you on your next case. But because of him you left fuming.

He got on his bike and sped out of the cave missing the moment when Bruce let out his new young companion from the Batmobile. The young boy starred in awe at the distant Red Hood.

“Really Bruce another one?” Dick joked.

“Father, when will you stop picking up orphans?”

“I’m no orphan!” The young boy quickly turned around to face the small crowd of heroes. Upon recognizing Damian he stood up to him with an evil grin. The boy was younger than Damian but taller. “Mom wasn’t joking when she said you were a small fry.”

Damian practically growled at the comment. He would have attacked the boy if it weren’t for Jon holding onto his cape. “Small fry is easy to upset,” Jon warned. He gave the kid one of his signature smiles and like a properly educated child introduced himself. “Hi, I’m-”

“Jonathon Kent, I guess right now you’re still Superboy.” He then turned to the others and correctly identified them. “Tim, Wally, Dick- I know all of you so there’s no need for introductions.”

“Great,” Dick smiled warmly to the kid. “Maybe you should introduce yourself then.”

Damian didn’t like the know it all kid. “Tell us who you are this instant!”

The kid wasn’t easily intimidated. He kept his cool knowing Damian wasn’t a real threat to him. “Chill the f*ck down.” The boy crossed his arms, unwilling to disclose his identity to them.

Behind the kid, Bruce stood holding his helmet. It was an exact replica of Jason’s with a few aesthetic differences. The main one being that it was black with gold details and had bat ears like the cowl, reminiscent of your costume. It also had a gold bat symbol on the button that latched the helmet.

Gasps filled the cave along with Damian’s signature, “Tt”. The symbols, the colorway, the language... it was all adding up in everyone’s mind except Wally. “What?” he asked.

“His name is James Todd.” Bruce disclosed the nine-year-old's name. “He’s Y/N and Jason’s son from the future, Bat Hood.” On the ride to the Batcave James had disclosed various information to Bruce.

He still saw him as his loving grandfather but clearly, it was time that made him soften to the Bruce he knew. “Hey!” James didn’t want anyone else knowing the specifics. Time travel was a very complicated thing with many rules and consequences. He was afraid his mission would be compromised but most importantly...his life was on the line. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“I lied,” Bruce deadpanned.

“G-pa Bruce would never lie to me!”

“G-pa!” Tim and Dick heartily laughed.

“I’ll make a note of it.” Bruce pulled out James utility belt and holster with two handguns strapped to it. “I’ll also make sure to keep you from getting your hands on fully loaded guns.”

James groaned in annoyance, "I’m very safe AND an awesome shot.” It was true. He had been taught since he was young, well younger, and had earned both yours and Jason’s trust in wielding the weapons. “Besides those are just blanks.”

Bruce crushed one of the bullets in his hands releasing a powdery substance. “Then what is this?”

“That’s classified.” James quickly turned away trying to avoid Bruce.

“We can test it right now and find out.”

“Doubt it,” James smugly smiled. “The programming software needed to identify all the compounds in that drug hasn’t been built yet.” His eyes darted to Tim who would be the one to invent it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tim narrowed in on James. Like the good detective he was, Tim figured out he was being given a hint.

Bruce didn’t care for all that, he had already gotten his answer. “So it’s a drug.”

“Sh*t...” he sighed. “You really are good.”

Damian saw all the bad had been rolled into one package. “Guess Todd is as good a parent as I expected.” James seemed to be left to do as he pleased during his childhood.

But it was strange.

You also had your bad qualities but one thing Damian knew for sure was that you were strict and often disciplined Jason for his language. “But Y/N...”

“Hey, my old man and mom are the best!” James defended his lineage, letting everyone know that it wasn’t a lack of rules that had him a little on the rebellious side. For the first time, the boy seemed to act his age. He began to look vulnerable and small. “My mother was killed by the Joker and my father is in a coma.”

The silence that fell on the room was quickly lifted by his next remark.

“I live with you now UNCLE Damian.”

Damian’s eyes widened, did he really have to put up with such a brat? Is that what his future held?

“I-I took down the Joker,” he proudly proclaimed. “This time for good... I didn’t kill him.” James was quick to clarify knowing Bruce’s moral compass would immediately be triggered. “I told the doctor’s at Arkham to test out the drug Tim and I made. It’s an anti-psychotic especially made for him.”

"But you’re just a kid,” Jon pointed out.

“I got it from a future where I was in my early twenties.” James had been visited by his future self to prevent the death of his parents but it was too late. The Joker had gotten to them there too. “Apparently, I become a pharmaceutical scientist.” He had some difficulty repeating his profession but they understood what he was trying to say.

“Dent is traveling through time searching for this timeline to kill my parents before I’m born. She was the only one who didn’t like the new sane Joker so she’s trying to get rid of me by making sure I’m never born.”

Now it was up to his nine-year-old self to travel even further back and stop her. “Obviously I can’t let her do that.”

Dick was the first to approach James and give him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry kid, we’ll help you.”

Damian saw the silver lining of this whole ordeal. “I will help and free myself of becoming a guardian to a brat like you.” Even though he said that Damian was actually worried for the kid.

“Thanks,” James felt relief wash over him. He wasn’t too sure he could get anyone to believe such a ridiculous, yet, true story.

“Can I just say, we definitely need to look into limiting the means of time travel in the future.” Wally found it unbelievable how many people were able to do so. “Seriously did you also invent some sort of time travel device Tim?”

+++

As Jason sped down the streets of Gotham he spotted you fighting in a poorly lit alley close to his apartment. A couple of scared women ran out from there clutching onto their bags. He figured you were on your way to his place when you stopped to help.

There were six or seven guys, one seemed to be out of the fight now. You had beat him up badly enough for him to sit out. Anger fueled your rampage on the men who were trying to rob and take advantage of women at night. “So you can’t get a date with those ugly mugs and decide to force yourselves on a lady?”

“Those b*tches were asking for it, wearing those short skirts-”

He couldn’t finish his sentence, your fist wouldn’t let him. “You can’t control yourself when a pretty woman walks by so she’s to blame? Pathetic!” At the moment you put your attention on the big mouthed creep the others tried hitting you from behind but were stopped by Jason.

“That’s no way to treat a lady,” Jason hit two of them with the back of his guns knocking them unconscious. He proceeded to point them at the last ones standing, “Now do you prefer to join your buddies or wait for the cops like good boys?”

They raised their arms in fear of being shot. “We’ll wait.”

“Good.”

When the cops rounded up the men Jason picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. “Now you are coming with me.”

“What the- Jason!” You protested when he sat you on his bike.

“Don’t fight it Babe. We both know you were on your way to my place.” The blush on your face could not be hidden even in the dark of night. He knew he was right. “What were you gonna do? Were you going to keep the bed warm for me?”

“In your dreams Jason!”

He smirked, “In my dreams, we never make it to the bed.”

Yes, you were going to his place but you were only going to wait and apologize for letting your jealousy get the better of you. You knew your last mission together went wrong because you let your emotions get the best of you when Rose Wilson got too close to Jason.

Jason sat in front of you waiting for your arms to wrap around him. It was always a good excuse to keep you close. He loved riding with you and vice versa.

The fact that he knew how it riled you up only made you angrier. He always did things to make you mad. You just wished he would admit why he did it, then maybe you could tell him how you really feel. You leaned forward staring at his broad shoulders as your arms snaked around him. “F*ck you Jason,” you let your head rest on him and smiled.

He smiled, content and happy to have found you. “You too Babe.”

You were his everything.

+++

James became still as he saw Jason pull up with you in tow. The laughter of his father was just as he remembered it.

“I found Y/N getting her ass kicked by some drunk sleazeballs,” Jason informed them trying to bring light into the situation. Perhaps it was the darkness of the cave but everyone looked as if they had gotten bad news.

The moment was gone, you were back to hating his guts. “I never asked for your help!”

“Didn’t have to Babe; I saw you were in danger and jumped in.” Whenever Jason gloated he would put his hands on his hips and strike a classic Superman pose with his chest out, leaving himself open for attack.

So you attacked, “You’re a real hero huh tough guy?” Your elbow dug into his stomach as you walked past him.

He broke the stance, doubled over with a mix of laughter and pain.

“Are you sure those two are your parents?” Wally asked James in a low whisper only loud enough for him to hear.

The two of you stopped your fighting when Bruce called your names. That’s when you noticed the boy in the black military style cargo pants and boots. His plain black tee and gloves combo made it seem like he was a black ops agent ready to go out for night training.

Jason similarly looked at the kid with question. “Who’s the kid?”

James smiled when he caught you looking at him. You were younger but you still looked like the mom he knew and loved. It had been long since he last saw you which made him want to run up to you, hug you and never let go.

“His name is James. He’s from the future, he’s trying to stop Duella Dent from killing his parents.” Bruce was careful not to give you and Jason any of the details. With how complicated you two were he figured it was best to let you two figure things out on your own. Clearly, time was the key for you two because as you were it didn’t seem James was a likely outcome. “You two will be watching him while the rest of us gather information.”

“Babysitting?” Jason was very disappointed.

“I haven’t forgotten of your last mission,” Bruce warned.

“That was her fault!” Jason pointed at you earning a kick to his well-toned ass.

“It was your fault and you know it!”

Bruce scowled at you two for behaving like children. “We’ll discuss who’s at fault later.” You three were the target so keeping you out of harm’s way was ideal. “Do not leave the cave.”

“But-”

You sighed placing your hand on Jason’s arm, effectively silencing him. “Maybe he’s right Jay, we don’t want to mess things up for James.”

Seeing you had managed to placate Jason allowing Bruce and the others to proceed with their departure.

It was hard for you to sit on the sideline as well but this time there were far more important factors. Your ego and his were outweighed by the importance of the young boy’s parents. You couldn’t make the young boy return to his time without accomplishing his mission. If that meant you had to sit this one out then so be it.

Jason groaned, “Fine.”

Approaching the boy with a smile you reached out to him. “Hello, I’m Y/N.” The boy nearly knocked the air out of you. His arms wrapped around your waist hugging you tightly.

Realizing what he had done, James backed away. “Sorry.”

You shook your head with slight laughter, “It’s okay.” The kid was too young to be tackling such problems. You were sure he needed comfort and proceeded to hug him this time.

James hid his face in your stomach as he felt on the verge of tears. It was so unreal to be back in his mother’s arms.

Jason narrowed his eyes, "Hey kid what did you say your name was?”

“James.”

“Cool name,” Jason took his helmet off and set it on his bike. “I’m Jason.”

I know, it’s so good to see you awake old man. “Cool name,” James smiled repeating his father’s line.

-end-

pic credit; found it on Pinterest.

A/N: This is a two-shot so the next part will be out as soon as I finish. For now I just wanted to see if you all found it interesting to read ^^ Let me know.

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ty-talks-comics · 4 years

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Best of DC: Week of March 18th, 2020

Best of this Week: Robin 80th Anniversary

All of the Robins are awesome.

Every Bat-fan has their favorite as they usually define the era when they began their love of Batman and comics in general. Older fans love Dick Grayson for being the first and greatest Robin that helped make Batman brighter. Edgy 80s kids and teens both love and hate Jason Todd for being the bad boy that died. Younger fans love Tim Drake for being the one to carry the name in the later seasons of the animated series and being one of the best and smartest Robins. Girls get representation from the spunky Carrie Kelly and the awesome Stephanie Brown. No one like Damian. (I’m kidding, he’s super fun.)

There’s a Robin for everyone and this 100 Page Spectacular celebrates the long history of Batman’s greatest sidekicks (though misses a chance to give Carrie Kelly her own short story) and does an amazing job in displaying each characters personalities by some of the best people to have written them over the years. Because there are so many, I’m only going to talk about the ones I really enjoyed!

The first FOUR stories follow Dick Grayson and some of his best eras.

“A Little Nudge” is written by Marv Wolfman with pencils by Tom Grummett, two parts of the legendary team behind the best years of the New Titans (1989). This story follows Dick Grayson as Batman begins to nudge him in the direction of becoming his own man by being increasingly irritable to his protege. At this point in time, Dick was dealing with the stresses of outgrowing his childhood identity and Batman’s continuing overbearing nature. Where Bruce was all about being cold and methodical, Dick thought with his gut.

Grummett, Scott Hanna on inks and Adriano Lucas on colors illustrate Dick’s frustration through his increasingly sour facial expressions and sudden heroic actions. The costumes are as colorful as those old days with Dick wearing the bright yellow cape, bright red tunic and the elf shoes. In the middle of the dynamic duo’s fight with Natural History Museum thieves, Dick stops fighting when a child gets shot, against Bruce’s orders, and stays with him until the bad guys either get away or get taken down by Batman.

Later on, Dick tells Batman that he’s outgrown the Boy Wonder name and sets off to become his own man as Nightwing. Wolfman gives readers an excellent inner monologue from Bruce where he owns up to the fact that he was nudging Dick in that direction because he had just turned eighteen and Bruce believed in him. Batman always supports his kids, especially his first and it turns the story of separation into something heartwarming.

“Aftershocks” is a fun story by Chuck Dixon and Scott McDaniel who worked on my favorite Nightwing series in the 1996 - 2005 era of the character. This wasn’t anything major, just Nightwing doing everything he could to save people after an earthquake causes massive damage to a suspended bridge in Bludhaven. This era of Nightwing was characterized by him mostly striking out on his own and becoming a Bludhaven police officer, being inspired by Jim Gordon.

Dick really came into his own and developed a rogues gallery to himself during this time, not to mention the sweet costume with the blue “wings” running down his arms into his fingers and those big, bulky gauntlets and boots. This era was the epitome of the 90s with big set piece moments, big muscles and Nightwing just being a nice and generally charming guy. After diving off of the bridge to attach a winch to a falling car, the woman inside asks to name her baby after him and he smiles and says, “Robin works, right?”

“The Lesson Plan” is a story from my favorite modern age creators in Tim Seeley, Tom King and Mikel Janin. The Grayson series took place shortly after Dick’s identity was exposed to the world during “Forever Evil” (2013) by the Crime Syndicate. At this time he was acting as a spy for an agency called Spyral while spying on them for Batman. I never think of Tom King as a comedy guy, but this story was almost gut bustingly hilarious. It was just a world trotting adventure where he teaches one of the students of St. Hadrian’s how to be a spy.

Truly this series was Dick at his most handsome, witty and skilled. He jumps out of a helicopter and grabs onto the cords of a cable car before rescuing a woman held hostage by terrorists on walruses. Dick, the student and the hostage ten fight off more terrorists in Tanzania, riding a bus headed for Los Angeles of all places before Dick finds himself in something Dejah Thoris would wear and having a night with the hostage who reveals herself to be a gorilla from Gorilla City. It’s absolutely absurd, but it is immensely fun and welcome since that whole series is well regarded by fans.

“More Time” by Judd Winick, Dustin Nguyen and John Kalisz is a far more somber tale about Jason Todd potentially a short time after the events of Under the Red Hood. Jason Todd was the second Robin and met his unfortunate end in the 1988 story, A Death in the Family by Jim Starlin and Jim Aparo. Jason eventually returned in the Batman: Under the Hood story where Winick and Doug Mahnke re-envisioned the former Robin as a violent vigilante Jason does have something of a strained relationship with Batman, but it wasn’t always that way as this story illustrates.

One thing that Dustin Nguyen has always been great at, it’s making kids super adorable and he does so in this story as it flips back and forth between the past and the present as Jason gives Bruce a birthday present in the form of his father’s watch, which Jason sought to fix. Nguyen and Kalisz characterize the past with Jason appearing as a happy, young kid under the dim lights of the Batcave and a twinkle in his eyes. He’s happy to have a home and a father to care for him so he wanted to do something nice for him.

Present Day Jason is characterized by dark backgrounds with bright oranges, smoke and heavy blacks for the shadows. Jason is far more tired, grizzled and angry, but he still finds the time to place the same gift box from all those years ago on the Batmobile for Bruce to find. At this point in time, they may have been at each other throats, but the love between them was still there, buried deep - culminating in two side by side panels of past and present Jason saying, “Happy Birthday, Bruce.”

“Boy Wonders” is a story about Tim Drake by James Tynion IV, Javier Fernandez and David Baron and sees Tim taking advice from all of his brothers. Next to Chuck Dixon and Geoff Johns, James Tynion IV has had one of the longest lasting impacts on the Tim Drake character throughout his run on Detective Comics by emphasizing the power of his mind in comparison to the other Robins and why he could ultimately be the successor to Batman above each of them or eke out a new life for himself.

While taking down the cast of The Warriors on a speeding train with Nightwing, Tim contemplates what his future will be. He looks to Dick as the one who did everything that he’s doing now and Dick tells him that as the smartest Robin, the best thing he could do is use that mind to bring up the next generation of heroes. Jason, the reason he’s even wearing the costume of Robin in the first place, tells him to take everything he’s learned from Batman to become BETTER than him. Arguably, it’s Damian that gives him the best advice by telling him that he’s the most capable of all of the Robins and that he should choose a path himself instead of relying on the advice of others.

Of course, this story takes place before the events of Detective Comics Rebirth where Tim does chart his own path in making Gotham safer with his Gotham Knights Protocol, but things don’t exactly turn out well for him. For all of the talk about how Tim is the smartest, he unfortunately could never get out of his own way long enough for things to go right...especially now that he’s going by “Drake” in that awful brown costume.

“Fitting In” is a Stephanie Brown story by Amy Wolfram, Damion Scott and Brad Anderson which sees Stephanie trying to live up to the standards of each of the boys that came before her. Stephanie was absolutely the shortest term Robin that Batman took on, as he only allowed her to take up the mantle in an attempt to get Tim back after his real father told him to hang up the cape after discovering his sons identity.

Even still, Stephanie did everything she could to earn Bruce’s respect and Wolfram plays on this and that past story by making it more about Tim than Steph. She has to train in the same costume that Tim did, but she proves more...voluptuous than Tim. Her costume bursts at the seams and Alfred designs the costume that she’s known for. She and Batman then get a call about fire at an amusement park and ride off to take down Firefly.

Unfortunately for her, she gets captured, but being the innovative girl that she is, she manages to free herself and take down Firefly at the same time. Damion Scott’s art is very well suited to the cartoonish action and paints her as a capable sidekick despite initially being a damsel in distress. I honestly wish her run as Robin would have been longer because she honestly fits well in the role as the bubbly Robin in contrast to the hell that Tim was going through at the time.

A point can be made that this story also had some needless sexualization, but given Bruce's lack of respect for Stephanie and him just wanting a replacement Tim at the time, this was well written from that perspective. He never cared for Stephanie and her time as Robin was mostly her trying to live up to Tim's standard which eventually left her to try too hard and "die" because of it. I’ll always take more Stephanie Brown as I can cause even now there’s not enough of her and I’m damn sure not reading Young Justice by Brian Michael Bendis.

“My Best Friend” is the one that makes me the most sad as it revolves around Jon Kent writing an essay on Damian as well...his best friend. I feel like the Super Sons series was also done a dity hand by BMB as he took Jon and aged him up for his Superman story when we could have gotten more fun stories between Damian and Jon. As far as homages to one of the better Rebirth series this one was just fun.

There’s not much to say other than Jon reminisces over a few of their adventures and tells readers about the side of Damian that we don’t often see because the Bat-boy is always a little bit too intense. Jon reminds us that they’ve fought for most of the time they’ve known each other, but when it comes to being heroes, Damian always had his back. It’s heartwarming. Of course there’s the continuity issue of them going to the same school in this story cause Jon was only ten at the time and Damian was thirteen, but honestly I only care about the friendship.

“Bat and Mouse” is a story by Robbie Thompson and Ramon Villalobos which sees Bruce and Damian having separate brooding inner monologues about how neither understands the other anymore and about how they want to open up to each other, but the distance between them has grown too wide. Admittedly, this is a much darker story in the respect that Batman and Robin haven’t really been the same since Damian started his new Titans team and started down a darker path that his father has yet to find out about.

Thompson captures this feeling that Damian is arrogant but scared. He feels like he’s outgrown what Batman has become because he’s willing to get rid of threats almost permanently through erasing their memories and villainous tendencies (see Teen Titans, 2018). At the same time, he’s afraid that maybe what he’s doing isn’t the right path and he so desperately wants to reach out to his father, but feels like he can’t.

Batman is the same way in that he loves his son more than anything and wants to regain the relationship that they had in the past, but doesn’t know how to say the words either. He knows that Damian is hiding something big, but he doesn’t want to accuse the boy and deepen the already cavernous rift. Even as they take down the robotic villain Quietus, they show signs of breaking through their equally cold exteriors, but fail to do so and I get the feeling this will all come to a head soon.

The Robins will always be some of my favorite characters in all of comics. Each of them have distinct personalities and quirks that set them apart from a lot of comic characters, especially when it comes to the trauma that they’ve faced alongside Batman. This special won’t be for everyone, just like each era of Robin isn’t for everyone, but overall, I really enjoyed it and the creators selected to honor these fantastic characters.

#robin #robin 80th anniversary #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #damian wayne #carrie kelly #dc comics #comic books #comic review

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jonlovessansa · 5 years

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THE SUMMERWINE

DISCLAIMER: In light of the recent leaks, and some consequent worry, I decided to reveal one of the clues I found in the books that confirms Jon/Sansa and at the same time PoliticalJon. It is neither the biggest nor the sweetest to me... but it is the first one I found, the one that allowed me to discover all the others, and since it basically does nothing but confirm the theory that we all supported in the past months, plus some recent spoilers, I think I won't ruin anyone's party by revealing it. Now, for those of you who rightfully prefer to watch the new season for confirmations, I'm going to put a wall here, you decide whether to look beyond to see the burning candle…

As we all probably know by now, GRRM loves his symbolism, and that often results in wondering what he is really talking about most of the time, what he’s hinting at, even if the answer is right there in plain sight. I’d say confusion is the main key for GRRM!

That's what happens with the wine and the scenes that involve the wine, by which we learn some important things that I think are no news for many of you. The show made some changes, but remaining in the books, I’m going to tell you briefly.

Starting with the ARBOR GOLD, that we find it’s linked to LIES. We’re informed directly by Littlefinger:

“We shall serve him lies and Arbor gold, and he’ll drink them down and ask for more, I promise you... You see the wonders that can be worked with lies and Arbor gold?” (AFFC - SANSA I)

And thanks to him, Sansa learns it too:

“Lies and Arbor gold, she thought. "I am Alayne, Father. Who else would I be?" .

But the examples are numerous: Baelish serves arbor gold while scheming and lying to his guests; Illyrio offers it to Tyrion while telling him the fake story of fAegon; fAegon says Varys gave a jug to fdeadAegon’s father for the hypothetical switching; Sansa and Tyrion drink it during their unconsummated wedding night; it’s the wine of Ramsey and fArya wedding… and so on.

Then there is the ARBOR RED, which is used to hide poisons and poisonous intentions: Joffrey drinks a poisoned cup before dying, Tyrion uses it to drug Cersei, Maester Cressen tries to kill Melisandre with a poisoned cup of it, only to be the one who ends up dead instead...

There’s still so much more to say, but let’s move on to the precise topic of this post.

The SUMMERWINE

RED. DORNISH. SWEET. SUMMER. WINE.

Don’t you think it’s pretty clear what we’re talking about here just by reading that? But in AGOT King Robert spills the truth, GRRM way, to convince Ned to go to King’s Landing:

Flowers everywhere, the markets bursting with food, the summerwines so cheap and so good that you can get drunk just breathing the air. Everyone is fat and drunk and rich." He laughed and slapped his own ample stomach a thump. "And the girls, Ned!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. "I swear, women lose all modesty in the heat. They swim naked in the river, right beneath the castle. Even in the streets, it's too damn hot for wool or fur, so they go around in these short gowns, silk if they have the silver and cotton if not, but it's all the same when they start sweating and the cloth sticks to their skin, they might as well be naked." The king laughed happily. (AGOT - NED I)

The reference is clear for me: in King’s Landing you can find in every corner the easiest version of LOVE, the kind that you can find in one of the many brothels the city seems to be famous for...

With this important symbolism it’s interesting that in the books we have very few mentions of the SUMMERWINE, and only three times they are significant, all in A GAME OF THRONES: JON I, SANSA II, DAENERYS VI.

In both Jon and Sansa’s chapters the setting is very similar: there’s a feast (Winterfell’s Great Hall for King Robert / in King’s Landing for The Hand’s Tourney), the music of the singers (playing the high harp and reciting a ballad /filling the dusk with music), a knight (Jamie, the Lion of Lannister /Loras, a true knight), an uncle (Benjen /Jaime), a dog (the Hound/Ghost) and a fool (Robb, grinning like a fool /Moon Boy, the king's own fool). Among all these common ingredients, the best part is that Jon and Sansa both get drunk on summerwine for the first time.

“(Joffrey) raised his hand to summon a servant with a flagon of iced summerwine, and poured her a cup... The servants kept the cups filled all night, yet afterward Sansa could not recall ever tasting the wine. She needed no wine. She was drunk on the magic of the night.” (AGOT - SANSA II)

Sansa is drunk on summerwine even if she doesn’t actually drink it, which means that she is only drunk on the promise of the beautiful life in front of her, like probably every sweet romantic child in her position. She’s not in love with Joffrey, she doesn’t know him at this point, she doesn’t know what a monster he is. She is in love with the idea of being in love with the Prince, being betrothed to him, becoming a Queen, of all her dreams of princesses and knights coming true. She is only drunk with the idea of summerwine!

But do you know who is realllllllly drunk in love on summerwine? Jon is!

”He settled back in his place on the bench among the younger squires and drank. The sweet, fruity taste of summerwine filled his mouth and brought a smile to his lips... Down here on the benches, there was no one to stop Jon drinking as much as he had a thirst for. And he was finding that he had a man’s thirst, to the raucous delight of the youths around him, who urged him on every time he drained a glass... Jon had started drinking then, and he had not stopped... He swallowed another gulp of wine... Benjen Stark straddled the bench with long legs and took the wine cup out of Jon’s hand. “Summerwine,” he said after a taste. “Nothing so sweet. How many cups have you had, Jon?” Jon smiled. Ben Stark laughed. “As I feared. Ah, well. I believe I was younger than you the first time I got truly and sincerely drunk.” (AGOT - JON I)

The show, again, hid some important clues by not having Jon attending the feast, but what remains the same is his request to uncle Benjen to go with him to the Wall and so have a chance to be a knightly kind of honourable man (like Lord Royce son Waymar, just to pick someone at random...) even if he’s a bastard.

It’s also useful to point out that in this occasion, we see FOR THE ONE AND ONLY TIME IN ALL THE BOOKS, jealous Jon flourishing:

-“Joffrey, younger than Jon or Robb, but taller than either, to Jon’s VAST DISMAY”;

-“Sansa looked RADIANT as she walked beside him”; “Prince Joffrey had his sister’s hair and his mother’s deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar… but Jon did not like Joffrey’s pouty lips“; but what he thinks of Jaime, who looks exactly like the young Prince? He was “tall and golden, with flashing green eyes and a smile that cut like a knife… Jon found it hard to look away from him. This is what a king should look like” (if Joffrey looks like Jamie and Jaime looks like a king, then Joffrey looks like a king too... just saying!)

From other POV we also learn that:

- while there’s a hunt with the king to provide a very wild boar for the feast, “Jon and his wolf were nowhere to be found”; “Jon seemed to be angry at everyone these days.” (BRAN)

- when Jon gives Arya “Needle”, he explicitly tells her: “And whatever you do...” Arya knew what was coming next. They said it together “Don’t... tell... Sansa!”. But talking with Sansa about Prince Joffrey Aria says: “Jon says he looks like a girl”. (ARYA) I think he forgot to tell her to shut up this particular time!

How can I say it simply:

JON HAS ALWAYS HAD FEELINGS FOR HIS SISTER

and that’s it! I know many of you don’t like the idea very much and I really wanted to make a post about it to get everyone on board because in the books there are interesting things on the matter (I still have hope for a flashback of little Jon and little Sansa). I didn’t for lack of time and some specific spoilers... (if you want you can read HERE and HERE where I explain it a tiny bit), but remember that they were children, both in love with the stories of chivalry and heroism, it’s easy to think that sweet little Sansa was his precious jewel to protect, like she probably was for Robb; in the purest way, the same way your older brother is your hero when you’re a baby girl.

But then the “bastard” word came in and everything changed: Jon, already rejected from Catelyn, the only mother he’s ever known, was forced to distance himself from both of them, and probably started to develop not less pure but different feelings, born primarily from an instinct of love and protectiveness that he couldn’t possibly satisfy. That’s when it all became muddled. And, well, he has Targaryen blood in his veins…

But let’s see what happens in DAENERYS VI so I can close this case. I sum up the important part because it is too long:

At the WESTERN market Dany comes across a wine merchant: a small man from Lys (known as LYS THE LOVELY and THE PERFUMED SISTER), slender and handsome, his flaxen hair curled, who has a sweet red from Dorne that sings of plums and cherries and rich dark oak; he says: “A cask, a cup, a swallow? One taste, and you will name your child after me”. “I will try your summerwine,” she says. But then the merchant realizes that she is THE MOTHER OF DRAGONS and responds to her: “That? Dornish swill. It is not worthy of a princess. I have a dry red from the Arbor, crisp and delectable. Please, let me give you a cask …there is no finer drink.” She accepts: “You honor me, ser.” But Jorah stops her and says “I have a thirst” and sniffs the wine, frowning. It turns out that the wine is poisoned because King Robert wants her dead: “No. He cannot have my son.. The Usurper has woken the dragon now” she told herself, and her eyes went to the dragon’s eggs resting in their nest of dark velvet… Was it madness that seized her then, born of fear? Or some strange wisdom buried in her blood? Dany could not have said. She heard her own voice saying, “Ser Jorah, light the brazier.”

Sooooo…..

A SLENDER and HANDSOME man with CURLED HAIR and SMALL of stature,

who comes from THE LOVELY and PERFUMED SISTER

offers Daenerys a swallow of his sweet red Dornish wine, i.e. SUMMERWINE, i.e. LOVE, promising her a child named after him.

But knowing she’s the MOTHER OF DRAGONS

what he really intends to give her is a poisoned ARBOR RED, which comes FROM THE REACH.

She has no reason not to trust the courteous man, she is HONORED that he thinks she deserves his most precious load

So she accepts his offer. But Jorah, who has A THIRST like the man’s thirst Jon had the night of the feast when Sansa looked RADIANT and he was jealous,

senses that something is wrong. He is right. So she goes berserk: “HE WON’T HAVE MY CHILD” (I let you decide if she is symbolically speaking of a baby or a dragon), a MADNESS seizes her… and so she decides it’s time to LIGHT A PIT...

Sounds familiar?

Enjoy the new season guys...

Thanks for listening!

P.S. All the gifs are from GOOGLE

#jonsa #jon x sansa #political jon #jonsa meta #sansa stark #jon snow #asoiaf #my meta #mine #JONSA TALES #NO MORE PANIC #HAPPY SEASON 8

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amymel86 · 5 years

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Tipping the Velvet - Chapter 30

On AO3

A fluffy kind of interlude to help me get back into this one...

Sansa felt her smile widen. She’s been smiling a lot this morning and the ache in her cheeks is a wholly welcome one. She’s being courted. Not only that, but she’s being courted by Jon. No matter how her head whispers words of caution to her heart, her heart seems stubbornly intent on not listening as it sits there in her chest, steadily beating for him.

“Yours faithfully is a little too formal and impersonal for a letter to a friend, don’t you think?” Sansa asks little Sam as he sits adjacent to her, little legs swinging back and forth on his chair. They were sat in the quiet of the Tarly’s library, working on Sam’s correspondence.

“But that’s what people write to father,” he protests, pointing to one of Lord Tarly’s received letters that he had been using for reference with his own; making sure to lay out his own correspondence in the appropriate manner.

“Yes, but that letter,” Sansa starts, taking the parchment from the lad, “is from someone that your father isn’t acquainted with. There are certain rules with letter-writing, Sam.”

The boy huffed and shoved his nibbed pen back into the inkwell with more force than was needed. “I don’t like rules.”

Sansa opens her mouth to answer upon the necessity of rules when the tall door to the library creaks open and a head of dark curls pokes itself in, peering into the room. When Jon’s eyes meet with hers, Sansa can feel a little jolt down the centre of her chest. He licks his lips and takes a step into the room, seemingly pleased with himself with having found her.

“Uncle Jon!” Sam greets him, though he is no uncle in truth. Sansa stifles a giggle when Jon looks to the boy with surprise, having not noticed him sat there before the sweet boy made himself known.

“Samwell,” he bows in greeting before angling his body to bow his head to Sansa next, “my lady. What are we doing here?”

“We are writing letters,” Sansa answers, her eyes following Jon as he comes around to her side of the table and seats himself next to her. His chair-legs scuff against the parquet flooring in a loud sort of scraping noise as he manoeuvres himself closer.

“And Sansa is making me follow rules,” little Sam huffs making both adults smile.

Jon wets his lips again making Sansa wonder if she was as mesmerised by the action before as she is now? It’s just a simple act, a small swipe of his pink tongue stroking against his lip. Had he always done that? Did he do that once upon a time, when he was her benefactor and she his courtesan? That seems like a world away now. Now Jon is her suitor and Sansa his lady. “Well, rules are important,” Jon says to the boy, although he is looking to her.

“Like the rule that you and Sansa have to have a saxophone now?” Sam asks.

Sansa’s brows draw together. “A saxophone?”

“Yes,” the boys legs continue to swing back and forth under his chair. “I heard mother and father talking about it. They told me Uncle Jon isn’t allowed to be alone with Sansa.”

“Oh! A chaperone!” Sansa bites her lip to keep the giggle locked within, her eyes flashing at Jon who does no such thing to hide his amusement until Sam talks again.

“Why can’t you be alone with her, Uncle Jon? You’re not going to hurt her, are you?”

That sobers him. “Most certainly not,” he almost chokes, straightening in his seat and smoothing a hand down his waistcoat.

“Well why can’t you be alone? Mother says Sansa’s brother wants you watched at all times. What does he think you’re going to do?”

They look to one another then. Sansa’s brows raise and Jon is licking at his damned devilish lips again.

“Uh,” Sansa watches as Jon shifts closer to the edge of his chair, “Sansa’s brother just wants to make sure nothing… inappropriate happens.”

“Why would anything inappropriate happen? It’s just Sansa.”

“Well,” Jon starts, and Sansa can see the colour rising in his cheeks. She averts her eyes to stare at the grain of the wooden table before her. “Miss Sansa is very beautiful, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” little Sam is observing her now, like he’s just realised that he’d never really looked at her properly before. “And you’ll be inappropriate because she’s pretty?” he’s asking Jon now, his curious eyes searching for answers.

“Well, no, it’s just – “

“Is it like cook and Freddie? Cook says the second she lays eyes on Freddie she wants to shout at him and whack him with her wooden spoon because he’s a useless footman and talks back instead of following orders. Is it like that?” Sam frowns at himself then. “You don’t want to shout at Sansa do you, Jon?”

“No! Of course n-”

“Because that would be inappropriate,” the sage little boy continues with a nod of his head, “you shouldn’t shout at anyone unless they have been very, very naughty.” He turns to Sansa then, reangling his body in his seat. “You haven’t been naughty, have you Sansa?”

Sansa can feel her face reddening and Jon shift uncomfortably in his chair beside her. “What Jon means,” she starts, taking a breath and hoping the right words will come, “is that the inappropriate things that shouldn’t happen between Jon and I are nice things. Like… holding hands.”

The boy thinks over her answer. “But why can’t you do that?”

“Because those sorts of things are for when a man and woman are married,” she answers, hearing Jon clear his throat beside her.

“Are you going to marry Sansa, Uncle Jon?”

“I would very much like to, Sam,” he answers the boy, although he’s looking to Sansa again as he speaks making her breath hitch in her throat. She wonders if she’ll ever not be affected by the notion?

Sam thinks this over as he looks at them both. His little brows furrow before he asks, “just so you can hold her hand and no-one will tell you off for it?”

“…Among other things.”

“Like having a baby?” Sam asks and Sansa is now sure that her face is the colour of a summer strawberry. Jon’s complexion isn’t faring much better. “Aunt Talla said that’s what she wants to do,” the boy continues as if nothing were amiss, “she said all she wants to do is find a handsome husband and give him beautiful babies. Is that why you want to marry Sansa, Jon? So she can give you babies? I don’t know why you’d want them. They’re loud and sometimes they smell bad.”

“Uh, well, that is something that Miss Sansa and I shall have to discuss,” Jon answers, eyes flitting between the two of them. Little Sam raises his brows as if to indicate that they should do such a thing this very instant so he may learn of the outcome. “Alone,” Jon clarifies.

“But you’re not meant to be alone. You have to have a saxophone with you.”

Jon looks as though half of him wants to laugh and half of him wants to groan and Sansa wonders if he’s experienced much interactions with children. Men usually do not, but she remembers how her father had been; trying to spend as much time with her and Robb as the adult world would allow. How much more simple things are when one is a child.

She wonders how that conversation would go; the one where they discuss if they should both like to have children. “And you’re being a very good chaperone, Sam,” she decides to say, leading the boy away from this particular conversation with a wide smile. “Mr Targaryen hasn’t tried to hold my hand once since you have your keen eye on him. Thank you.”

Little Sam looks proud of this supposed achievement then as he sits there, practically beaming at them both.

“But perhaps we should go back to our letter-writing, don’t you think?”

His grin turns into a scowl rather quickly and he grabs his pen from the inkwell roughly. Sansa looks to the parchment in front of her. She had thought to write to Margaery. Now that her secret is unveiled, there is no need to keep up the ruse with her friend also, but her letter lays bare on the table. Where does one even start to explain what has happened over the course of the past few days? “Do you have plans for today, Jon?” she asks.

“No. I’m quite content to sit here with you and our saxophone,” he leans back in his chair and smiles. It’s a lovely smile that reaches his eyes. Something dances excitedly in Sansa’s tummy and she finds she has to look away from him lest she be tempted to crawl into his lap and kiss those terrible, awful, beautiful lips of his. She stares at her empty parchment again.

Sam has already begun scratching away at a new letter beside her and Sansa thinks writing to Margaery can wait, since there is still so much she needs to say to Jon.

She needs to tell him about Harry; about how she came to do what she did. Why her judgement in men cannot be trusted. That’s not something she can do with a chaperone so close though – whether it be little Sam, Gilly, one of the Tarly’s maids or (Heavens forfend) Robb.

Sansa reaches across to take her own pen from the ink and begins marking the paper in front of her.

When can we be alone?

Sansa pushed the paper a fraction towards Jon. He leans forward to read and then snatches some paper of his own from the pile in front of them.

I intend to honour your brother’s wishes, he writes, I want nothing more than to be alone with you, yet I wish to do things properly.

Sansa arches a brow at him.

It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?

Jon clears his throat.

Sansa, I wish to show you that I am a gentleman of his word.

She bites her lip as she writes her reply, very vivid memories coming back to her.

You’ve already done rather gloriously ungentlemanly things to me already, sir.

He coughs yet again and Sansa wonders if she should suggest he seek out a drink when she notices him adjust his trousers and realises that his throat is perhaps not the source of his discomfort after all.

She can’t help but smirk to herself at that as she continues to write.

I need to talk to you.

Of course. You can always talk to me. We’ll find a way.

Jon laid down his pen and looked over to their young chaperone who was currently wrapped up in decidedly not writing a letter but using his pen to draw soldiers on his paper instead.

Sansa felt a gentle brush against the baby finger of her unoccupied hand. She looked down to see Jon’s finger touch hers once, twice times, stroking her ever so lightly. The gesture was a like a promise. She needed to tell this sweet man everything. And this time, she wanted to.

“Sam,” she said, making the boy look to her. Jon retracted his hand from the table and Sansa felt its loss. “How about you show Jon and I the tree you like to climb? The one on the other side of the gardens you were talking about. You can chaperone us just as well outside.”

Little Sam looked to enjoy this idea immensely. “Yes!” he all but squealed, hopping off his chair, his letter forgotten. “But you can’t hold Sansa’s hand outside either,” he warned Jon.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa fic #victorian au #tipping the velvet

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imaginestation · 5 years

Text

Midnight Dreams Ch 2

Chapter 2 of my Midnight Dreams series.

I awoke to Cersei slightly nudging me awake so I could get ready for the night's feast. "Now, my dear it's time for you to get ready for the night. Go to your room, and your handmaiden will have a bath drawn" Cersei said as she pats my back shooing me out of the room. "Okay Mother, I'll get ready now." I said as I left the room. When I walked down the halls of Winterfell, I admired the architecture of the halls. Every stone was laid with care and utter detail. I quickly arrived at my room without being seen by anyone. Upon entering I was met with my handmaiden Anna filling my bath. "Anna, thank you for filling the bath. Do you know where my lemon grass and cocoa oils are? I can add them to my bath if you'd like." I offered while walking around looking for the oils. "No need my lady, I've already done it. The water should be ready to enter by now." Anna replied kindly. "My dear Anna, you know me too well." I said as I went behind my changing post to undress. "Anna I may need some assistance with the ties." I said while trying to reach the ties of the dress. "Of course, my Lady." she replied walking over to help rid me of the dress. As soon as I was bare, I hurried to the steaming water. Once I entered the steaming water my mussels relaxed, and I felt at ease. "My Lady, are you excited to finally be home again?" Anna asked. A sigh left my pale lips. "Anna, when we are alone and away from prying ears you can call me by my name. I truly love you like family. It feels so impersonal when you call me 'My Lady'. I know mother would have a fit if she heard you, but I would never tell her." I pleaded with the old woman. "This place may have once been my home, but I don't feel that way anymore. Now it holds the pains of my past. What I do miss from here is my family, my Uncle Ned, Aunt Catelyn, Robb, Jon and my other cousins. They represent a home to me." I said answering her questioned. I sunk deeper into the steaming water. The smell of cocoa and lemon caressing my nose. "Dayana, you are a Stark, and this will always be your home. I know you have faced hurt here and that you've adopted the Red Keep as home now, but you will always have a place here in Winterfell. Now girl, sit up so I can wash you properly." the old handmaiden scolded. A slight snort left my lips as I did as she instructed. She did as she said she was and soon she finished. I stood up from the cooling water to have Ana wrap a soft fur around me to dry off. Once I was out of the water, I walked to the bed and awaited my dress choices. She brought out two dresses for me to choose from, one was a deep blue dress, while the other was a beautiful yellow dress with flowers embroidered into it. "I'll go with the yellow dress, Anna." I said before she could as which one, I wanted to wear. "This is a beautiful choice, Yana. The yellow will help bring out the blue in your eyes." Anna complimented. She laid it on the bed and left to put the other one back. I quickly dried off and put my undergarments on. When Anna came back, she helped me dress in the yellow beauty. "Go sit over there and think how you'd like your hair done. As I sat, I started to think about what I would like. "So, my Dear, any opinion on what you'd like your hair to look like?" Anna asked. "I think I'd like it partially up and down. Do you think you could do a circular braid around my head? The rest I may leave down, do you think that'd be pretty?" I asked the old woman. "I think that would be lovely my dear, and yes I can do that for you." She said as she started on the braid.

Once Anna was close to finishing my hair a knock came from my door. "Who is it?" I questioned. "It is Lady Catelyn and Sansa Stark." the familiar voice of Catelyn rang from the other side of the door. I look towards Anna to see if she was finished with my hair. She gave a slight nod, and with that I shot up and hurried to the door. I opened the door and let my aunt and cousin in my room. I observed the two and noticed that Sansa was not yet completely ready. "My dear Sansa your dress is beautiful. Did you make it yourself?" I asked with a bright smile on my face. We hugged as she nodded quickly silently answering my quickly. "well you'll have to show the Queen I think she'll be very impressed." I told her. "Yana, you look gorgeous, this is the softest silk I've ever felt." Sansa said petting my dress. "Sansa was wondering if you'd help her pick a hairstyle for the feast tonight." Catelyn said before either Sansa or I got another word in. "Of course, I can, I'd love to help you out." I said going to sit on my vanity. Sansa sat where I was not long before and Catelyn too the place behind her. "Sansa, would you like to try some of my cheek dye? I got it all the way from Dorne, would it be okay with you Aunt Catelyn?" I asked Sansa looked to her mother with a pleading look while Catelyn just nodded her head. I smiled and went to grab the small vile of the berry colored liquid. I turned back around to face the girl; I luckily didn't have to bend down because the young girl was so tall, and I was not. I placed two fingers in the liquid and dabbed it along her cheek bones. Once I was finished a light red color covered her cheeks. "There now you have a natural glow to your already lovely face." I said placing the bottle down on the vanity. As I looked back towards the girl Sansa asked." Do you think Joffrey will like me? What if he thinks I'm ugly?" Before I could say anything, Catelyn said. "Then he is the stupidest prince that ever lived." "Of course, Joffrey will like you. You are the most beautiful girl in the North. Even if he didn't like you there are a number of lords who ask for your hand." I said agreeing with Catelyn. "He's so handsome." Sansa said ignoring my last statement Catelyn just rolled her eyes. "When would we be married? Soon or do we have to wait?" Sansa continued. "Hush now. Your father hasn't even said yes." Catelyn said continuing with Sansa's hair. "Why would he say no? He'd be the second most powerful man in the kingdoms." Sansa countered. She looked in my mirror towards her mother. Catelyn just sighed and said. "He'd have to leave home. He'd have to leave me. And so, would you." "It's hard on a mother to lose both her husband and daughters all in one go." I scolded gently. Sansa glanced at me briefly then looked towards her mother. "You left Winterfell to go there, and your family. You live with the queen and king so what do you know. Anyway, I'd be queen someday." she said with a pause. I turned around to hide my unshed tears. There was a rustle from Sansa. "Please make father say yes." Sansa said. "Sansa..." Catelyn started. "Please, please. It's the only thing I ever wanted." Sansa begged. I watched in the mirror how they were eye locked and how Catelyn's face fell. "Sansa dear. Your hair is beautiful, but I must have you leave now so I can get ready." I said breaking the silence. They both looked towards me and nodded remembering that I was in the room. Catelyn had a grim look on her face but took Sansa's hand and left.

Once they had left, I felt the tears run down my cheeks. I took a seat in the chair closest to me. "Now let's stop that my sweet girl. You need to get ready for the feast. It'll be starting any moment now." Anna said wiping my tears from my face. Anna then reached for my cheek tint, dabbing a little bit on my cheeks and lips. "You will be the prettiest girl there my dear Yana. Now go to the feast, the Queen is awaiting too see your smiling face." Anna said pushing me towards the door. As I made it to the feast, I saw all the all the stark children at their table and the royal children at another. Catelyn sat next to Cersei and they were mildly communicating with each other. While Robert was letting some whore rub against him in the center of the hall. As I looked towards Cersei, I saw utter disgust and anger towards the drunk King. I needed to see her and find out what she wanted to ask me. As I looked around the feast, I noticed that Jon was nowhere to be found, maybe if I looked harder, I might find the poor boy. I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking and walked into the black clad man. I felt my body start to descend to the ground, but I was caught by the man's hand. When I looked at the man's face my body when stiff. "Father," I breathed out. "Dayana is that you?" he asked in a slight whisper. All I could do was nod my head yes as he pulled me into a hug that lasted a few Seconds.

#game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones imagines #cersei lannister #ned stark #sansa stark #euron greyjoy imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #euron greyjoy

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fenweak · 5 years

Text

2018 pat/jon fics!

In keeping with tradition, here are some of my favorite fics that came out in 2018. Technically, it’s easier to sort through ao3 now to see all these for yourselves, but anyway! i love lists, and i love listing wonderful things so. :3 Do check the list out if you missed out on any and give these authors some love. Happy New Year, all! :D

Canon Divergent

when the clock strikes twelve by crystaljules - T | 6,508 | friends to lovers in new year's eves

Pop Your Corn Like A Champ by mending_fences - E | 2,065 | rookie year pwp

Big Spoon, Little Spoon by aseaofwords - G | 765 | gasp, there's only one bed!

Patrick and the Lucky Potato by Bittersweet - G | 794 | hockey superstitions

In The A.M. by SecondCitySavage - E | 613 | established relationship pwp

I Thought It Was A Floating Door by Mullsandmutts - 3,211 | rookie initiation of sorts

No, I Never Told Lies To You by fourfreedoms - E | 3,033 | celly realizations

The Future Is Bulletproof (the Aftermath Is Secondary) by CitrusVanille - T | 2,422 | marriage proposal

Five Times Jonny’s There to Back Patrick up (And One Time It’s the Other Way Around) - T | 3,521 | what the tin says

Throwing Rocks at Your Window by Linsky - M | 2,267 | getting together

Into You by hatrickane - E | 4,531 | friends with benefits

Same Old - 1,900 | friends with benefits with angst

This is awkward by writingintothevoid - M | 2,244 | masturbation getting together

Shitshow by AnythingThrice (WIP) - E | 16,297 and counting | relationship negotiations, porn with feelings

Hockey House by aseaofwords - M | 20,476 | pat helps jonny raise a baby

The Scars That Words Have Carved by Linsky - E | 15,964 | soulmates AU

A How-To Guide for Idiots in Love by lucky1 (WIP)- E | 12,462 and counting | Cosmo-based wooing

Transverse Velocity by fourfreedoms - E | 2,236 | Orbital Resonance h/c timestamp

A Certainty I Envy by hatrickane - E | 15,015 | time travel, friends to lovers

Eyes on the Horizon by heartstrings - E | 35,380 | future fic

Baby One More Time by fourfreedoms, sorrylatenew - E | 7,981 | first time, internalized homophobia

a bulletproof bond by thirteentorafters - T | 1,791 | summer fluff

Beg for it by Clever_grrl - E | 1,524 | pwp

running across the meadow by ishybishy - E | 2,219 | fluff and angst and smut

nobody does it like juliette by thirteentorafters - T | 4,323 | established relationship plus dogs!

Bruises on My Knees for You by Linsky - T | 2,529 | getting together

On This Day (February 27, 2018) by AnythingThrice - T | 2,191 | angsty introspection

Fortune Says by artanis_aman - E | 63,360 | BDSM pwp

Light by Bittersweet - G | 283 | short domestic fluff

I'mma need two hands - E | 1,563 | pwp

The One with the Sex Bet by Linsky - E | 11,621 | friends with benefits to lovers

Don't Forget To Breathe by fourfreedoms - E | 13,513 | friends with benefits

For Science by Linsky - M | 2,600 | first time

Light as a Feather by WolvesoftheBlueMist - T | 1,595 | marriage proposal

finished, yet by thirteentorafters - T | 1,426 | grief over death

Project: Thanksgiving by windsthatwhisper - G | 1535 | established relationship fluff

Streets of Chicago by TheNorthRemembers - E | 79,749 | h/c, friends to lovers

Operation: Christmas Gift by windsthatwhisper - G | 1,166 | future fic

There's a Ghost in My Home (And It Just Won't Go) by crankyrage - T | 11,616 | depression

I'll Be Your Detonator by CitrusVanille - M | 17,645 | marriage of convenience

Shawty With You by allthebros - E | 5,279 | 5 + 1 mistletoe kisses

we live in the memories(of the season of light) - 1,437 | holiday season h/c

On the right side of too much by Sail_On - 4,518 | established relationship pwp

AUs

Fathoms Above by aseaofwords - T | 14,451 | mermaid!jonny

Muscle Stim by sahiya - E | 7,672 | physical therapist!jonny

Make You Crazy Over My Touch by liveinfury - E | 26,757 | porn star!jonny, fluffer!pat

Ignite My Fire, Object Of My Desire by ThalassicThedes - 6,939 | college theater acting au

it's only you and me by crystaljules - T | 2,489 | college au angst

All It Ever Was by hatrickane - E | 8,249 | fraternity AU

Let's Ride The Vibrations by FallingOutOfTouch - T | 10,303 | barista!patrick

a love to burn by peeks - E | 2,916 | college au pwp

Who Knew by themistrollsin - G | 2,434 | college AU

soft hands by Caivallon - E | 10,337 | ballet-dancer-turned student!pat, hotelier!jonny

forever only by gasmsinc - E | 3,621 | 1940s established relationship AU

(Shut Up and) Sing It With Me by CitrusVanille - T | 6,152 | model!jonny, followed by

Let Me See Your Jazz Hands by CitrusVanille - T | 2,669 | established relationship model!jonny

Little Demon Goes To College by fourfreedoms - E | 2,423 | established relationship installment of the Accepted Practice series!

bonnie and clyde by gasmsinc - E | 3,576 | 1920s mob AU

The Future Is Ours To Seize by PensToTheEnd - E | 27,878 | former rentboy pat au, established relationship

the road less traveled by thundersquall - E | 12,374 | farmer!jonny

Between the Pipes by sorrylatenew - E | 4,206 | a/b/o

Eternal Ice by NightfireRed - G | 9,119 | regular office guys AU

broadcast by Pinkmanite - E | 3,250 | cam guy!pat, established relationship

The Full Monty by CoffeeKristin (WIP)- E | 22,849 | professional Dom!jonny

trace your path between the stars by thundersquall - E | 15,859 | space military a/b/o!

One Wedding Too Many by hockeyhawk - M | 5,850 | four weddings and a funeral AU

I'm asleep dreaming that I'm awake wondering if I'm dreaming (and it’s the best dream I ever had) by Caivallon - G | 1,162 | Ladyhawke AU

Ashes, Poison, and Thorns: a fairytale by allthebros - T | 1,950 | Cinderella AU

In Every Corner by hatrickane - E | 7,518 | Miss Congeniality AU

look me in the face (hold my gaze) by Pinkmanite - T | 9,296 | CMBYN AU

we're never done with killing time by liveinfury - T | 6,026 | soulmates au

Handsome, Clever and Rich by CoffeeKristin - T | 12,017 | Edwardian Period obliviousness

Hard liquor with a bit of intellect by huntersandangels - G | 5,745 | drunk texting proposals

Soothing ruffles feathers by candy_belle - M | 2,022 | wingfic!

Drown me sweetly by Caivallon - M | 1,476 | doctor!jon, mer!pat

Greenhouse Effect by allthebros - M | 1,888 | fuckbuddy realizations

Got Your Back by Prialee (WIP)- T | 39,768 | friends to lovers, 50/50 AU

That Feeling When by fourfreedoms - E | 4,612 | military AU

immigrant song by gasmsinc - E | 4,338 | 1988 is thorki

No Capes by sorrylatenew - T | 3,797 | The Incredibles AU!

Summer Changes by CoffeeKristin - G | 1,272 | summer camp love

Expected Result timestamp by hatrickane - E | established relationship

If you like pina coladas by CoffeeKristin - T | 2,621 | meet cute in a Jimmy Buffett concert

Somebody To Love by ThalassicThedes - 7,852 | 1960s AU, first time

efficacy by thirteentorafters - M | 12,014 | rookie year mpreg

God Only Knows by Linsky - E | 26,512 | mormon!jonny

The Care and Keeping of Your Kitten by Celly1995 - T | 5,564 | kitten kaner!

A Little Nip in the Air by Celly1995 - E | 12,030 | kitten!kaner tries catnip

Tell the Stars I'm Coming Home by allthebros (WIP) - E | 15,817 and counting | apocalypse angst

You gave me home and I lost myself by Caivallon - E | 4,823 | coffee shop in Thailand AU

A Healthy Dose of Vitamin Sea by Celly1995 - E | 16,137 | established relationship, part of the kazer dick cake fic of shame and glory series

Bigger on the Inside by Linsky - E | 25,671 | doctor who fusion

take a walk on the wild side by tazernkaner - T | 3,045 | college frat party AU

You Know I Dreamed About You by kayclandestine - M | 31,942 | they meet at a Hawks convention AU

We don't pray for love by runphoebe - E | 2,912 | HOT prequel to an angsty, unhealthy relationship fic Gonna Bite Your Feelings Out

Forever & Always, My Baby You'll Be by windsthatwhisper - G | 1,259 | kidfic

the shape of you by thundersquall - E | 15,962 | college au, always a girl!pat

Just A Spark by heartstrings - E | 19,751 | college au, magical realism

Every Little Thing He Does (is magic) by jezziejay - M | 65,459 | police chief!pat, witch!jonny, bonus little magic girls and a faithful doggo

bulletproof by thirteentorafters - M | 2,456 | Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU

Fearless child, broken boy (Tell me what it’s like to burn) by Caivallon - T | 1,359 | Hunger Games AU

Ricochet by heartstrings (WIP) - E | 40,075 and counting | partners in crime angst

i think of you in colors by toewsin (haroldslouis) - E | 24,893 | figure skating coach!pat, hockey coach!jon, Shattuck AU

Black Sunflowers by windsthatwhisper - E | 23,360 | mob boss!pat

We've Waited for the Calling by allthebros - E | 23,125 | small town horror au. love and magic and monsters!

Irreplaceable - M | 23,631 | first time, tattoo-related shenanigans

Son of a Preacher Man by PensToTheEnd - M | 22,432 | future priest!jon, homeless!pat

Téméraire by Pinkmanite - E | 24,531 | spy AU, angst with a happy ending

sugar, we're going down swinging by thundersquall - E | 59,112 | baker!pat, hotelier!jonny

Something Uniquely Him by hatrickane - E | 13,838 | a/b/o, age difference

No, It's Not A Secret by SimoneClouseau - E | 13,825 | college au, always a girl!jonny, size kink

Keep the fucking lights on by runphoebe - E | 8,661 | not hockey players, daddy kink, established relationship

You Turned My Head by hockeyhawk - E | 11,072 | incubus jonny

More Than Who We Are by amoergosum - E | 14,548 | trainer dietitian!jonny

Le Moose-bouche by AbschaumNo1 - T | 2,717 | established relationship, restaurant au

Can You Lyft Me Up? by Mullsandmutts - G | 27,912 | single dad!pat, meet cute

The Boy who kissed the Moon by Caivallon - M | 71,771 | childhood friends falling in love

Sweet Like Candy Kanes by sasha_annes - T | 21,060 | candy shop AU

your soul cries out (our hands are tied) by thirteentorafters - E | 18,313 | soul bonds

i know you are (but what am i) by booktubelover7 - T | 57,984 | always a girl!pat, high school AU

The Reality of Things by windsthatwhisper (WIP) - E | 8,232 | french teacher!jonny

a song someone sings by gasmsinc - E | 45,751 | anastasia au

#patrick kane #jonathan toews #hockey rpf #fic rec #blackhawks #long post

222 notes · View notes

zackmephisto · 4 years

Text

dirt watches aew

ITS TIME BITCHEZ

stop i don't want to see this betrayal :(

mjf turned and now my depression is Worse i hate him i love him :(

JURASSIC EXPRESS AAAAAA

N Y L A YES OG MY GOD

i know I didnt hear yall boo nyla.

HANGMAN AND PAC REEEE

SCUUUUU REEEEE

M I S T E R M O X L E Y

:'''''(

STOP IM GONNA CRY KENNY NOOO

is it really nakazawa v mox. that's wild

mox looks good wtf?

STOP pulling the crazy shit dude. hes a good boy.

is he wrestling in pants bc his legs got fucked up or

that was weak. wtf ?

is it just bc hes still sort of hurt and they want to book him stronger than kenny?

o he speak

"you are one radical son of a bitch" how come he can say bitch but chuck cant say the s word

👀

damn yeah what's next for him. he really did fuck up kenny. who is next. I'm excited idc who is next like.... whoever it is they're gonna be working w the best of the best tbh

wait what the fuck why is it a championship match with sammy and chris and scu. why

cheer dark order and their gimp army you FUCKING cowards

T H E M!!!!!

GOD I LOVE MY CHILDREN STOP IM GONNA CRY MARKO WEARING THE MASK

THE MARKO CHANTS THANK YOU LORD

i have no more will to live now that marko ate the pin

STOP BEFORE I CRY FOR REAL

oH MY GOD LUCHASAURUS AAAA

luchasuarus said "back off my baby dinosaurs" and i respect that

hes obv still a little hurt tho you can see it in his movement

I STAN ONE DINOSAUR FAMILY

hmmm how come scu have to defend their championships every five minutes but chris jericho is always safe 🤔

gfys shawn spears

i'm a simple woman. i see shawn spears on my screen and I switch tabs

I constantly thank god for darby allin

Aubrey 😍😍😍😍

if darby loses i sue

JOEY!!!

uh. i mean. i mean. joey. big deal. who even cares about him and his braids and he smells anyway 😡

thank u darby i love you and definitely not joey...

DARBY AND JON WAIT STOP I CANT BREATHE OH MY GOD NO PLEASE THIS IS GONNA BE THE BEST THING IVE EVER SEEN SCREEEEEE

I'm literally screeching darby vs mox??? NAME A MORE ICONIC DUO

ya'll have a crowd full on transphobes huh

darby vs mox tho this is so goddamn exciting

SO excited oh my god who is nyla fighting !!

who??

people really are such big transphobes that they're cheering someone who hasn't had a match yet. i hate straighties

thank you queen I love you

get well soon dad i miss u :(

i feel like i should know her by sight but i don't

o i remember her. i like her merch

shes annoying

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

AWESOME KONG AND BRANDI MY SKIN IS CLEARING AS I SPEAK

perish, blonde woman

god i love this. i LOVE THIS

if mjf joins the inner circle i want it to be known right now at 5:56 pm that i will Still Stan. okay. i stood w baron corbin through it all. i'll stand by mjf through it all.

every time some one swears on aew and it's not chuck taylor i lose six months of my life

OH?!?!?!

HELLO MAX I LOVE YOU GOOD MORNING MY SWEET SCARF SON

he's handsome no one @ me ever again

i lov u asshole love you so much

LOVE YOUUUU

NO I LOVE YOU I'M NOT UPSET I LOVE YOU

expose him Max EXPOSE HIM

max 😍😍😍😍😍

I believe every word you've ever said ever

max is right stop SAYING MEAN THINGS TO HIM

THIS MAN IS HURT MAY I HUG HIM

max STOP I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

AND WHAT A HANDSOME NEW FACE IT IS

YES YOU ARE BETTER THAN HIM AND I DO KNOW IT

wake up sheeple max is RIGHT

"my third or fourth installment" go off king.. go off......

sigh. I didnt want to do this. but i'm gonna have to stan.

or not?

MAX SAID A LITTLE BIT OF THE BUBBLY AND I IMMEDIATELY GOT UP TO GRAB THE CHAMPAGNE I SAVED FOR THIS EXACT SITUATION

ok thank god i dont have to stan the inner circle

thanks max i love you

HE IS HANDSOME ITS TRUE

ok... maybe that was funny. but I still love max

dont do this Max I dont want to stan

this is making me laugh hella hard dncnsndj

I LOVE THE HUG

cody man come on just let me have my max in peace

sigh

cmon Maxwell let's go

who?

wardlow I see

ok. I stan if he likes max

@ Maxwell Jacob Friedman choke me like that d*ddy

good morning it's been an hour and I've had four mikes and am on my fifth i'm drunk and in love with mjf

cowboy 😍😍😍😍😍

wait please don't let hangman lose I dont want to see him sad anymore

pac is fucking. more than human. I love him too

COW👏BOY👏SHIT👏

"i'm shocked by pac's leg strength" me 2 bud. those legs? i'm always shocked. hes so ripped his muscles have muscles

BASTARD SHIT LMFAOO HOW THE TURNS HABE TABLED

COWBOY STOP MAKING THESE NOISES I FEEL NSFWORK

yall are going to commercial in the middle of this match? disgostang. guess its valid bc this alcohol is going right thru me but. >:(

so Twitter says luchasaurus is actually Back back I'm really really happy abt that I missed dinosaur father

i finished going to the bathroom and sat down and it came back on clearly this is dirt rights

hangman and pac didnt get up for a second and I was Ben Affleck w cigarette. jpeg for a second thinking abt pac vs moxley

thank u for being a good bean mr ref bryce

:(((((((((((((((((((((

suing aew for emotional distress

JESUS matt Jackson

OH MY GOD AAAAAA ORANGE IVE NEVER LOVED A MAN MORE

literally I love orange cassidy more than i love myself

I'd be more exciting for this bucks/proud n powerful moment if orange cassidy wasn't on screen for two (2) seconds. His Impact

aew refs are my new mandatory kin

dont hurt Brandon Cutler hes a good boy

thank god for private party

proud n powerful vs private party is dirt rights

me: :l

scu: SCUUUUU

me: :)

oh yeah btw my onion on scu officially changed i love them officially

SCU SAYS FUCK NASHVILLE BUT I LOVE WRESTLING FANS AND REALLY THATS CALIFORNIANS IN A NUTSHELL, I CAN CONFIRM, BEING CALIFORNIAN

i'm DRUNK thank god for autocorrect

why is sammy not vlogging. is he okay. does he have a fever

anyway if scu loses i'm suing again

jericho, a few weeks ago: WHO WEARS A SCARF

Jericho, today: wears a scarf tonight and talks abt scarfs today

judas FUCKS one of my fave songs of all time tbh

sammy guevara is like. 12. stop hip thrusting, child

kaz, my angel. I love you. so much

sammy: I GOT EM, DAD. I GOT EM

I love sammy BUT he better eat this pin so hard hes still tasting it next week

almost started filing my aew lawsuit when scorpio sky almost got pinned

I love how effective and strong the thesz press is. so wild. thank u mr sky

oh thank fuck. thank FUCK that pin wasn't complete

PLEASE MR SKY

THANK YOU MR SKY

SCU BEAT INNER CIRCLE SO NO ONE EVER TALK SHIT ABT CALIFORNIANS EVER AGAIN

unless ur californian. in which case ur allowed

scorpio sky being the first person in aew to pin Jericho is California Rights

that was a wonderful show. orange cassidy was there so it was 10/10. everyone say thank u aew

#dirt watches aew #11.13.19 #dirt's posts

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