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bumblesimagines · 9 months

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Imagine:

Being the Frey girl betrothed to Robb Stark

Request: Yes or No

Did not intend for this to be long

~~~

It was supposed to be the perfect day. Many little ladies dreamt of their weddings, dreamily wondering about their future husbands and the family they'd create together. Your dreams of the perfect wedding had been brief, crushed quickly under the boot of your father, Walder Frey, and you were forced to accept that you'd be marrying out of duty rather than true love.

There'd been some hope and a spark of relief when your sisters had rushed to your bedchambers, giddy and eager to speak of your betrothed: Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell. He had visited briefly and been allowed his pick of the litter, but when he provided no response, your father chose for him. You knew of the Starks of Winterfell. They were an honorable family and close as could be. And from the accounts of your sisters, Robb was a handsome man. Young, handsome, eyes blue as sapphires, pretty brown hair, and incredibly polite. You hadn't seen him as you'd been occupied the day of his visit, but everything your sisters told you filled you with glee. An honorable, kind husband who you'd surely fall in love with.

Or so you thought.

You'd been there when one of Walder's men had requested his time and spoke of Robb. The words that followed had sent you reeling, stomach twisting and heart shattering. Robb had a lover. A healer from Volantis named Talisa Maegyr. Your father's rage had been brief, calming when the man assured him Robb still planned on wedding you. He hadn't broken his promise to House Frey, and that had been enough for your father. You shouldn't have been surprised. Walder himself had fostered many bastards throughout his countless marriages.

"A man has needs." He'd said, curling his bony fingers around his ale and bringing it to his mouth. He cared little for the tears forming in your eyes. "I cannot fault him for that."

You spent the rest of the day weeping in your room with your sisters around you, murmuring comforts and trying to brighten your day.

"You'll be Lady Stark and Queen of the North soon, dear sister." One had attempted, a brush delicately going through your hair. "His mistress will be just that. A mistress."

But it hadn't been that. No, you wept because a mistress before the wedding had even been planned meant a loveless marriage where you'd have to battle for your husband's attention, battle to ensure you had his child first. You'd seen firsthand how much a loveless marriage affected a bride. Your father had many wives after the death of your own mother, each of them young and full of light that dimmed with each passing day until they were a hollow and empty shell. You wept for what could've been a happy future far from the grim place you called home.

But the sadness turned to bitterness and anger over night. The Stark's prided themselves on being loyal and honorable, sticking to their oaths and promises even if it meant putting their own happiness aside. Why couldn't Robb done that for you? Why had he taken a lover so quickly after the announcement of your incoming wedding? He hadn't cared about how shameful it would be for you. How humiliating. You'd be known as Lady (Y/N) of Winterfell, the woman who'd been cast aside before ever meeting her husband.

The wedding date had arrived sooner than later, something you loathed. You stared at the reflection in the mirror as both maids and kin tended to you. They brushed your hair, powdered your face, and tightened the wedding dress to your body while fawning over how beautiful of a wedding it'd be. They praised you at the end, gushing over how pretty of a bride you'd be. They hadn't thought to realize that Robb would be envisioning his little healer in your place when you walked down the isle.

You ensured to keep a stoic expression throughout the ceremony, not even mustering a smile for your husband when he lifted the veil and took in your appearance. His eyes, as pretty as described, had widened considerably and flickered over to the pews where his family sat. The ends of his mouth had quirked up into a smile and he muttered a soft 'my lady' before turning to the Septon. You would've scoffed if it weren't for the stare Walder gave you.

The ceremony went by in a breeze and you kept your stoic, cool composure, even when your father had lowly whispered for you to smile after being seated. He no longer had control over you. You relished in the thought. The only good thing that had allowed for you to have an appetite as Starks, Freys, and other allies celebrated. You spent most of the celebration searching for her until you noticed Catelyn Stark speaking with a young woman who stared at Robb hopelessly. Talisa, you presumed from the frankly exasperated look on Catelyn's face. She was pretty, you'd give him that.

"Are you feeling well?" Robb asked quietly and reached for your hand, delicately placing his over it and staring at you with knitted brows. You pulled your hand away swiftly and set it on your lap, eyes moving onto your beloved sisters to keep your emotions in check.

"No." You answered after a brief pause. Robb was handsome, incredibly so, but his presence alone irritated you. You had to act quick before the bedding ceremony took place, a tradition your father insisted on keeping alive. "I feel unwell, Lord Stark. I'm afraid I'll be retreating early."

"Shall I go with-"

Rising from your seat, you shook your head, still refusing to meet his eyes. "No, My Lord. That will not be necessary." You carefully lifted your dress and breezed past your father, ignoring the glare he speared into your back as you glided down the steps and toward the exit.

Slipping out into the familiar halls, you exhaled deeply and released your gown. It dragged along the stone floor, dark gray clashing with white. You itched to get out of it as soon as possible. The thought of burning it crossed your mind but it felt too childish, too improper of a lady.

"My Queen." A voice echoed down the hall and you halted. Queen of the North and Lady Stark of Winterfell. Right. Your new titles. No longer one of Walder's many overlooked daughters. You looked over your shoulder, spotting her auburn hair first, a signature trait of the Tully family. Catelyn Stark.

"My Lady." You greeted her, turning to face the older woman. She smiled sweetly, gazing at you with the warmth of a mother. Catelyn grew closer and took your hands into hers, smile turning into a shamed smile.

"I am deeply sorry for what my son has done." Her voice sounded sincere, full of guilt and shame. She shook her head. "I taught him better than that. He knows better than that. But rest assured, that woman will not cause problems for you."

You'd nearly forgotten. Eddard Stark had returned home from the war with a bastard son called Jon Snow and raised him as a trueborn alongside the rest of his children. You remembered the murmured rumors of how Catelyn detested him and had fostered a particular dislike for bastards. Perhaps that dislike extended to mistresses.

"She may share his bed, that is true. But he is my husband now, and as his wife, I have duties that I will not forget. I can assure you, Lady Stark, I will give your son an heir and do what needs to be done for House Stark to prosper, just as you have done these many years." Her eyes softened considerably, fingers lightly squeezing the palms of your hands.

"Oh, sweet child." Catelyn cooed gently and brought a hand to your cheek. You yearned for your mother's embrace, her soothing words. You pressed your lips together to keep them from trembling. "You shall make a wonderful queen and a wonderful wife. I... I will ensure Robb does his duties as husband. You need not stress over Talisa."

"I appreciate it, Lady Stark. I'm afraid I'll be heading to my- our bedchambers for the rest of the night. Please assure everyone that I am well." You pulled your hands from hers and lowered your head in respect to the monarch before turning and resuming your walk down the hall.

Another deep breath and you reached the one of the many guest bedchambers. Most of your belongings had been packed up for you, likely already sitting in Robb's tent out on the field. You dismissed the servants that offered to help you ready for bed, only agreeing to have a warm bath drawn so you could relax after the day's events.

Slipping out of your wedding dress, you watched it slump on the cool floor and stepped out of your shoes. You released your hair and ran your fingers through it as you dipped one leg into the bath and then the other. The water dug into your skin, easing away at the tension in your muscles. A soft sigh of relief escaped past your lips, shoulders dipping below the surface. You leaned your head back against the wall of the tub, eyes fluttering shut and mind forgetting about the day.

You would've stayed in the tub for the rest of the night, even slept in it, if it hadn't been for the sound of the door creaking open. Your eyes snapped open and you lifted your head, gazing down at the water as heavy boots stepped across the room. Robb passed by the tub, shedding his coat and draping it over a chair. You brought your knees up to your chest when he turned.

"I thought you would've been asleep by now." He spoke softly, undoing the buttons of his vest. "Are you feeling better?"

The consummation. You nearly grimaced. "No."

"Should I call for a maester?"

"It's likely nerves, My Lord."

"We're husband and wife now. You may call me Robb." He gave a boyish smile and you turned to look at the towel perfectly folded on the stool beside you. You reached for it and let it unravel outside of the tub, eyes jumping back to the Stark. Robb's fingers had paused on the last button, attention trained fully on you but when he noticed the icy look, he turned his back. You stood, the water sloshing around as you dried yourself and retrieved a nightgown.

"I would like to sleep in my old room tonight. It's likely the last time I'll see it."

"I'd like to believe that, (Y/N). But I am no fool. I am your husband, you may speak openly with me." Your jaw clenched at his words. He claimed to be no fool yet remained oblivious to your anger. "And I hope you'll grow comfortable enough to sleep at my side."

Picking up a candle, you lifted it to the lantern keeping the room lit and pulled away once the fire flickered onto the end of the wax. "I believe your lover would prefer otherwise, My Lord. I bid you goodnight."

He blinked. "(Y/N)-"

"I bid you goodnight."

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cdragons · 1 month

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I'm Yours, But You Can't Be Mine | Dark!Robb Stark x fem Knight!Reader

Summary: The Freys and the Boltons were so close in their attempt to assassinate Robb Stark and switch the tides in favor of the Lannisters. But a knight's devotion to her king should never be tested. Her loyalty always remains true, even if she breaks the heart of the man she loves in order to protect him.

Trigger Warning(s): MDNI 18+, blood, gore, graphic violence, forced abortion, violence against women, canon character deaths (not Robb or Starks), graphic smut, more hurt than comfort, Talisa is a spy (and a ho), Reader has post-murder clarity and guilt

A/N: A couple of days ago, I woke up and chose violence (emotionally and "literature"-ally) ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ. Also, Theon Greyjoy never betrayed Robb in this fic bc I said so - HOORAY! Also, if anyone can tell me how I can use different fonts in my posts, that would be great.

Walking out from the tent where the emergency council meeting was held, you steeled yourself for the information you would have to discuss with your king. With each step falling to the ground, bringing you closer to his tent, the boulder in your stomach grew more and more heavy.

“This is a bad idea,” you thought to yourself. “This is a bad idea and a mistake; he will never forgive you if you go through this.”

But you made a promise – and as Ned Stark taught you, you would keep it because it was right and honorable. Because when choosing between what is right and what is easy…you must always choose what is right.

You stopped before the two Northmen who stood outside your king’s tent as guardsmen. Their postures straightened and appeared as imposing as possible when facing you.

“Turn back, Ser (Y/N),” one guard said. “No matter how familiar with King Robb, we are on strict orders from Lady Catelyn that no one but her and Princess Arya are permitted to enter His Grace’s tent.”

“I need to speak with the King,” you spoke in your best militant and authoritative tone. “His lords and I just held an emergency council meeting to discuss House Frey’s betrayal. I need to ensure that no information is held from him.”

“Perhaps it be best you let His Grace rest,” the other guard spat out. “He had just lost his queen and future heir at the hands of Walder Frey – even if his wife was a spying, traitorous cunt sent by Tywin Lannister. We could all use some time to mourn.”

You snarled and grabbed your dagger when you saw the sigil sewn on her sheath. He belonged to House Blackwood. Your eyes softened as you recognized him as Bywin Blackwood, cousin to Lucas Blackwood, one of the four hundred casualties slain by Hosteen Frey. Taking a deep breath, you tried to appeal to their sympathetic natures.

“I concur, Ser Bywin,” you said. “But you cannot deny that time is of the essence. Three days have passed since the failed Red Wedding, and word has surely reached Tywin Lannister and the rest of the Red Keep of their failure. I fear for Princess Sansa’s life if we do not take action soon. Her well-being is entirely dependent on King Joffery and his bitch mother’s whims and wishes. The faster I can bring our king up to speed, the faster we can retaliate and bring our former liege lord’s daughter back.”

You watched them glance at one another before delivering the final blow. “And then we can all go home so that we may finally properly mourn and honor the lives lost in this war.”

They let you through, and you entered your king’s tent. Seeing your friend lying so still on his cot broke your heart. His chest was wrapped entirely in gauze and bandages, and the memory of seeing the arrows puncture his body swept chills down your back. Grey Wind sat beside him as dutifully as ever and did not even turn his head to look at you when you entered. Like his master, Grey Wind was a beast of discipline and strength. He and Robb shared the same qualities of holding the stoic appearance of a leader – even when the world around them came crumbling down. But here, at this moment, Grey Wind was neither a beast nor a leader. At this moment, he was simply the pet whose mind was running rampant with worry from fear of his dearest friend never waking up.

You held out your hand and called out his name. “Grey Wind.”

His head finally turned to face you. You often wondered if he was more man than beast, sometimes based on how soulful his eyes looked alone. You crouched on the ground and beckoned him to you.

“Come here, boy. Are you thirsty? I brought you water.”

He immediately trotted to you and showed his joy in seeing you were alive by licking your face and nudging you with his wet nose. You softly laughed at his eagerness to shower you in love while also inspecting your body to see if you were injured or carrying weapons. His body stilled, and his fur stood as he stopped to sniff the sword resting on your hip. He took a sniff and bared his teeth to let out a low growl when he recognized the scent of Talisa’s blood soaking the metal of your blade underneath the leather sheath.

You petted him and spoke in low whispers to calm him down. “It’s alright, boy. She met her end – you and I both ensured that.”

A pained voice rasped out. “I don’t suppose you got any information out of it?”

Your eyes widened at the only other voice in the room, and Grey Wind immediately returned to Robb’s side.

Tears filled your eyes as relief flooded your body. “Robb,” you sobbed out.

Before you could stop yourself, you flung yourself to hug him. “You’re alive! Oh gods – you’re alive!”

Returning your embrace, Robb held you close. “I am, and so are my mother and most of our men—all thanks to you.”

But the happy atmosphere became sour and somber when he looked down at your sword. The memory of your hands covered in his wife’s blood as you stormed into Frey’s Great Hall with the rest of his men was fresh in his mind. Fury swirled and thundered inside him as he learned he had been played as a fool by Tywin Lannister. Using one of his vassal house’s daughters as a spy while disguised as a healer so that she could seduce him was a low he never thought those fucking lions would stoop down to, but they had, and he will have their heads on spikes.

His grip on your arms grew harder. “Did she suffer?” he asked.

You looked him straight in the eyes. “Every second until she had her last breath.”

“Good,” was his only response.

“Robb,” you started. What you were about to tell him was cruel, but he needed to know. “I tore her child out from her womb…it had blonde hair.”

Robb let out a bitter laugh and clenched his fists. “So not only was she a spy, but she was also a whore.” He shook his head. “I was a fool.”

You took his hand in yours. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She had us all fooled.”

Robb shook his head. “Not you. She never fooled you. You hated her the minute you saw her, and you were right, too.”

You never once hid your distrust and dislike for her from the moment she and Robb locked eyes, a distrust that only grew more intense when Robb decided to marry her, thus breaking the vow he made with Walder Frey. But despite your skepticism of Talisa Maegyr, you never suspected she was a spy under Tywin Lannister. Eventually, though, you began to trust her after observing her for countless hours.

She wasn’t a Frey girl, but she might be good to Robb. Maybe she would make him happy.

Robb tucked in a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Who would’ve thought that your natural hatred and distrust for anything pretty would come in so handy?”

“I do not hate all things ‘pretty,’” you scoffed. “I just have a natural distrust for things that seem too good to be true that happen to be pretty. Why do you think I ran away from you for so long?”

Robb smirked. “But you always trusted my father?” he chuckled.

"Ned Stark was someone who was born into privilege and knew it," you shrugged. “Besides, he was old and fat when he found me. And I didn’t think it would be useful until now.”

You thought it strange to see her leave the feast so early, claiming that she felt ill, and one of Bolton’s soldiers escorted her to her chambers. You whispered to Theon that you needed some air before quietly following them. You found them discussing how everything was set and how House Stark would fall that night. Talisa’s true name was Joy Marband, one of House Lannister’s vassal houses in the Westerlands. Tal- Joy ensured Lord Bolton that House Lannister would reward him for his loyalty to the crown. Horrified by this revelation, you rushed to where Grey Wind was locked up and freed him after slaying the guards that stood in front of his kennel.

“Grey Wind, gather the men,” you ordered. “Gather as many as possible and lead them to the Great Hall! We don’t have much time!” Grey Wind howled before doing exactly as you ordered. When he parted, you set off to find the spying whore. On your way to find her, you slew every son, guard, knight, squire, and steward that came across you.

You found her all right – found her in her chambers getting fucked from behind by one of Lord Frey’s many bastard sons. You took out your dagger and gutted him from balls to the chest before cutting off his pathetic cock. It gave you a sick amount of pleasure to see how his blood sprayed across the room – from the walls to the bed, on the traitorous cunt’s back he was fucking to on your clothes. His body went limp as a massive puddle of blood surrounded him. After watching him die, you turned your attention to her.

“Please,” she cried while clutching a blood-splattered sheet close to her chest. “Please, I am with child – Robb’s child!”

You reached out, and your hand squeezed around her throat as she tried to claw her way out of your grasp. Anger being your drive, you slammed her head against the headboard of the bed and watched as her lips turned blue from lack of air.

“Don’t you say his name,” you growled. “Don’t you EVER say his name!”

You flung her like she was a simple ragdoll as her body slammed against the stone wall adjacent to the bed. She coughed and gasped for air while rubbing her throat – the bruises were already forming. You stalked towards her before she could crawl away.

“Robb trusted you!” you thundered. “Lady Stark trusted you! The North trusted you – I TRUSTED YOU!”

You towered over her, grabbed a fistful of her umber-shaded locks, and forcefully yanked it until her face was only inches from yours. “AND WHAT DID YOU DO? YOU TOOK THAT TRUST AND REPAID IT WITH BETRAYAL!”

She tried to crawl away before you stomped on her hand and felt it being crushed underneath the sole of your boot. Your former queen wailed in agony from the pain that almost hid the sound of her bones cracking. The dagger you used to fill the bleeding corpse was still in your other hand, and you knelt to trace Lady Marband’s pretty face with its tip.

“W-w-what are you going to do to me?” she pathetically sniffled.

“I have – STOP CRYING! I have only one question for you,” you harshly whispered. “Did my king truly sire the child in your womb?”

“YES!” she cried out quickly…too quickly. Your jaw clenched so hard you thought your teeth would break from all the pressure.

“…Liar,” you hissed.

With nothing left to stop you, you took your dagger and stabbed it into her body. Dragging the blade until her insides were spilling out into your hands, you dug your find to find the child. Her screams howled louder than any beast at night, and you were almost worried that her wails would give away your position. But all those worries went away when you tore the fetus from her womb. Pouring water on it, you found tiny wisps of hair…straight, blond wisps of hair that more resembled the color of golden wheat than Robb’s dark, russet curls.

Hearing Grey Wind’s howl outside the window, you knew it was time. Still holding the whore’s limb and bloodied bastard in your hand, you raced to find Grey Wind. If your suspicions were true, most of the archers for House Frey were already inside the Great Hall while the feast was happening. If you didn’t hurry, you and the men Grey Wind gathered would be too late. You managed to locate him quickly and were relieved to find thousands of men behind him as he immediately trotted to your side.

“Queen Talisa Maegyr is a traitor working for the Lannisters!” you loudly roared. “She belongs to House Marband—one of their vassal houses! Tywin Lannister had sent her to spy on and seduce your king!”

You raised the dead babe high above your head for all the men to see. “The babe in her stomach is not even Robb’s! If you wish for proof, see for yourself!”

You flung its body to the nearest man. He picked it up, and you can see his eyes widen and fill with rage before confirming your words as truth.

“BLONDE!” he bellowed for all his comrades to hear. “BLONDE LIKE JOFFERY AND HIS WHORE MOTHER, HIDING IN THEIR RED SHIT-STAINED CASTLE!”

Cries and shouts of outrage and anger amongst the men. You watched with bated breath as the surge of revenge and the need for bloodshed filled their hearts. You then revealed that Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were also in a secret allegiance with House Lannister and watched as enraged spirits filled the men with enough fury to take down an army of ten thousand. The North needed something to boost morale, and here it was. You looked down at Grey Wind. He stared back into your eyes with the same loyalty he gives Robb, and you know what you must do.

With one swipe, you unsheathe your blade, ‘Purge,’ and raise it above your head as the men go silent.

You shouted before leading the charge into the keep. “COME WITH ME AND LET’S TAKE THESE FUCKING FREYS TO THEIR GRAVES!”

Grey Wind howled to the sky, and the men raised their weapons to let out their battle cries as they followed you, storming into the keep. You shouted orders for the Riverland archers to run to the upper levels to take down the Freys perched there. Your king’s direwolf raced ahead and took down any soldier that tried to cross him. By the time you and the men reached the doors leading to the Great Hall, all of Grey Wind’s face was soaked with spilled red liquid life save for his golden eyes.

You pushed the door open just in time to see Robb stagger back from the arrows piercing his chest. Just when Roose Bolton tried to deliver the final blow, Grey Wind let out a booming bark before dashing to Lord Bolton and clamping his teeth into his neck. Meanwhile, you went to where Theon was held and removed the heads of the men who were pinning him down with a single swing. You grabbed him by his doublet’s collar, yanked him to his feet, and shoved a spare sword in his hand.

“Grab Robb and his mother, and get out of here!” you ordered.

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you–”

“Dammit Theon! Don’t argue with me!” you shouted. “Just get Robb and Lady Catelyn somewhere safe!”

Theon looked at the chaos unfolding around him. “What about Queen Talisa?”

“She’s dead! I killed her!” you answered.

“WHAT?!” Theon’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

You rolled your eyes. “Tywin Lannister sent her to spy and fuck Robb – NOW, GO!”

Once you saw Theon take Lady Stark and they dragged Robb’s bleeding body to safety, you could finally focus on the fight. You focused your sights on every man who wore a Frey or Bolton sigil and didn’t stop until each one was lying at your feet. The blood spilled from each slash, stab, and chop from Purge soaked your clothes and caked your face. But it was as if a dark ritual had taken place, as their blood only seemed to empower each and every one of your attacks. Before long, it was too late for House Frey and House Bolton. Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were bleeding at the Northmen’s feet, and any reinforcements called were immediately subdued and taken into custody.

As far as you were concerned, the only Frey left in the hall was Roslin—but whether she and the rest of her sisters would keep their heads after their surviving brothers would soon lose theirs didn’t really matter to you.

“I’m alive,” Robb began while cupping your cheek, “because of you. The North survived because of you. How can I ever repay you?”

You held his hand. “I didn’t save you for your gratitude, Robb. I didn’t save you so that you could repay me with titles, money, or lands. I saved you because it was my duty. I saved you because I swore to that night Joffery called for your father’s head, and we named you ‘King of the North.’ I saved you because I…”

Robb titled his head. “Because you what?”

“Don’t make me say it,” you whispered.

“Because you love me?” he softly asked. Pressing his forehead to yours, he continued. “Because I do…you know I do.”

You shook your head. “No, Robb – please. Please don’t do this to me. Don’t say things you don’t mean to make me look less foolish.”

You tried to move back and away from the man you’ve longed after for as long as you could remember. But Robb took your hands and pressed them close to his chest as he implored you to remain by his side.

“That night, after they named me ‘King of the North.’ Do you remember? We were in my tent. I told you I wanted to be alone, but you refused to leave me. I cried and lashed like a screaming child, but you never left.”

This was getting too far. This wasn’t why you came here. “Robb, you need to listen to me–”

But Robb didn’t stop talking. “You just stood there – taking it until you finally took me in your arms and held me. You didn’t say a word; you just let me cry out my pain. Like that time when we captured the Kingslayer, you held my hand when I kneeled in front of the Whispering Wood to mourn the men I lost. You didn’t speak of how brilliant I was or how the lives lost were for a good cause; you let me be me and mourn.”

“Robb–”

“That’s when I knew I loved you – that I’ve always loved you. And then, when we kissed–”

“I’m leaving,” you blurted out, “to Maidenpool tomorrow morning.”

The silence between you two seemed to echo louder than any wind that howled during the fiercest storms. Shock was the first thing on Robb’s face before complete and utter horror took over.

You may have spoken too quickly. “Well, no…technically, I and…a few other riders will be headed to Maidenpool tomorrow morning. We need to prepare a ship for your voyage to Dragonstone.”

“…What?” His voice sounded so broken that you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You combed your fingers through the stray hairs in front of your face. Then, you took a deep breath to prepare for the little speech you had prepared for this moment. This was the plan you and all lords agreed on. It was a good plan, and it was going to work. That’s all you needed to believe to convince Robb.

“Stannis is the realm’s best chance for peace. Perhaps he’s too stubborn but needs more people on his council. Your lords and I decided it was best if you traveled to Dragonstone to try and convince him to become allies with us. But you still need a few more days to recover. So, by the time you arrive at the docks, the ship will be ready. That’s why I – we’re traveling to Maidenpool… to travel to Dragonstone.”

“And after?” Robb breathily asked. His grip on you tightened in desperate hopes of keeping you close. “After we speak with Stannis, we’ll come back? You and me—we’re coming back together?”

You looked away. “You’ll be coming back…along with everyone else. But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

“But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

Robb dropped his hands as if you burned him. You were lying. You had to be – you weren’t genuinely thinking about…about leaving him.

“No,” he panted with terrified eyes. “No, no, no, please.”

You cupped his face. “Robb, please understand–”

“What’s there to understand?!” he cried out. “I love you! And you love me – and yet you’re leaving me! Why?”

“You don’t love me,” you countered. “You’re only saying you love me because you’re angry and hurt by Talisa–”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about that whore,” he spat out.

You rolled your eyes. “Robb, please. You married her. You took her as your wife and nearly ruined the North because of that choice. Of course, you loved her. And, understandably, you’re lashing out because she betrayed you. But don’t lie to me and say you didn’t love her.”

“(Y/N), love,” he beseechingly thought, “you have no idea how wrong you are.”

Robb snarled like the wolf he was at your words. “I married her because I thought she was carrying my child, and I didn’t want my future heir to be a bastard.”

“Even so, that doesn’t explain why–”

You were going to hate him for what he was about to say. “Because you refused me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his shameful reveal. Robb never felt more rueful and penitent of his naivety than now. The last thing he wanted was your disgust and hatred, but he needed you to understand how long he’s loved you. He needed you to realize that you were always the one who held his heart and sanity – without you, he was nothing, as was proven by the Freys and Boltons’ betrayal.

“Robb, I…I don’t – I don’t understand,” you stammered. Your eyes showed that your mind was running amok with questions and a desperate need for clarification. “Wha-…what are you talking about?”

Robb took a deep breath and tried to swallow the lump lodged in his throat.

“That night when my bannermen named me ‘King,’ you followed me to my tent. I kept lashing at you like an angry child, but you never left my side. And then…we kissed, and it led to more. The following day, I wanted to find you – to declare my love for you fully. But every time I got near you…you turned away like I was poison. That’s why I turned to Talisa…to try to forget about you.”

Your eyes widened in horror as your chest moved up and down with shaky breaths. “You broke your vows with Walder Frey…was because of me? You bedded and married Talisa because of me? …I hurt you… a-a-and–” You let out a trembling sob. “–Oh gods, this is all my fault! I-i-if I hadn’t confused you that night–”

Robb could feel you slipping away and continued to try to tether you to him.

“No, my love,” he cooed. “You never confused me. You’re not listening to me. I’ve always loved you, even before that night.”

Robb tried to hold you close, but you harshly shoved him back and stood. He watched as tears continued to fill your eyes, and your face carried an expression that could only be described as overwhelming guilt. Robb flung the covers off him and tried to walk towards you, but each step he took closer to you made you step further back.

You stared at him with a shameful expression. “Robb, I…I was wrong to let things escalate between us. You had just been declared king and were grieving for your father, and I took advantage of your grief and vulnerability–”

Robb tenderly held your face. “No, no, no—you didn’t, though. (Y/N) That night…you gave me your love. You didn’t say it, but you gave me your love, and I gave you mine. I never regretted that night or laying with you. How you spurned my attempts to connect with you afterward—that was what hurt me the most.”

“Robb…” you sobbed his name as tears strolled down your cheeks. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted…I thought if I weren’t beside you…I’d also be protecting you from distractions from the war and your duty to the Freys – oh gods, I’m so sorry.”

You put your hand over your face. “Robb, if that night never happened…if I never followed you to your tent then…then, we wouldn’t be in this mess! All of this is my fault! Talisa, the Lannisters, the broken vow with Walder Frey – the North is more vulnerable than ever, and it’s because of me! …I mutilated a pregnant woman and murdered her unborn child.”

Robb helplessly watched as you continued to blame yourself for his foolishness. Knowing you would want your privacy, he sent Grey Wind away to guard his tent. Gods, his father would be so ashamed of him if he saw him now. He watched as you fell to the ground and began to weep out apologies to every soldier who was murdered by the Boltons and Freys at the Red Wedding.

…Lucas Blackwood…Dacey Mormont…Patrek Mallister…Robin Flint…Ser Wendel Manderly…Owen Norrey…And over three hundred other men and soldiers whose blood were spilled that night.

You even begged for forgiveness from the old gods and new ones, for the blood that belonged to Joy Marband that will forever remain on your hands, along with the stolen breaths of her unborn son.

But then the tears stopped…and an eerie calm cloaked the tent. Your eyes were red and swollen, but a spark of mad clarity was dancing in them. Very slowly, you stood with your head still bowed.

“I have to leave,” you whispered. “I have to leave and never come back. If I stay, I’ll only continue to ruin you and our cause more than I already have.”

You turned away to leave, but Robb reached out to stop you before you could take another step. He begged you to look at him, pleading for you to listen to reason before making any rash decisions. When you stubbornly refused, he grabbed your jaw and forcefully turned your head to face him. His crystal-blue eyes were wide with fear and misty from anguish. He had to make you understand that your leaving was not an option.

“(Y/N), look at me—please, love,” Robb implored. " If you leave me, I will never recover. If you dare leave my side, I will tear all of Westeros apart—leaving no stone unturned, no cave unsearched, no village left unplundered. We belong together. You and me – ruling the North, side-by-side in Winterfell. Us, together, spending every night in each other’s arms, with each morning beginning by being greeted by our children.”

He pulled your face closer until your lips were only a few inches away, and your individual breaths intermingled to become one. You want that life with him—just as he wants that life with you. So why can’t you embrace it and share it with him?

You shut your gaze from him and tried to choke down the pain. “It doesn’t matter what either of us wants. All that matters right now is what we need. What matters is how we can gather ourselves from these losses and try to form allies. And if me being here distracts you from that, then…then I need to leave.”

Robb determinedly shakes his head. “No, no – I don’t accept that.”

“Robb–” you tried to reason, but all of your pleas were cut off when he pressed his lips against yours.

And just like that – all words floated away like debris falling into a steady river.

A warm and tingling sensation ran down (Y/N)’s body as their lips met, and she closed her eyes to fully succumb to the sensation. She knew that she should have pushed him away immediately. But as Robb continued to hold her face gently to deepen the kiss, all sense of reason fled from (Y/N)’s mind when his lips moved against hers with gentle and firm urgency. In that moment, nothing mattered – not the messy past, the unstable present, or the uncertain future. At that moment, (Y/N) felt completely free of all worries and fears as Robb’s hands began to trail down to wrap his arms around her waist to hold her closer while (Y/N) wrapped her arms over his neck.

Despite the constriction of their lungs, neither wanted to part. If they could die in this embrace, then so be it. (Y/N) felt every hard, warm muscle of Robb’s body pressed against hers as they began to walk back until the back of his knees hit his cot’s edge. They tumbled onto the cot, and the fall caused Robb to fall on his back with (Y/N)’s soft and supple frame to press further against him. He slightly winced in pain, which caused the two lovers to finally part. As (Y/N) stared down at her king with a concerned expression, Robb thought an angel was with him.

He stared at her flushed cheeks and lust-glazed eyes with naked longing. Her (h/c) strands tumbled to form a curtain hiding their faces. Staring at the mythic beauty over him, Robb knew he wanted this with (Y/N) forever. Meanwhile, (Y/N) gently swept his curls from his face before trailing her hands down his bandaged chest to search if any wounds had been opened.

“Do you need me to stop?” she asked, her heart beating a hundred miles a minute. “You’re still healing, it might be best if we–”

“If you even think of finishing that sentence with ‘stop,’” Robb interjected. “I’ll bind your hands and take you from behind over and over until the only word you can say is my name – just to show you and everyone else that I could be dying from a cut-off leg if it means I can have you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and giggled. “You’re so dramatic sometimes. I just don’t want you bleeding out and dying before I finish.”

Robb sat up, wrapped his arms around her, and forced her to straddle him. The sudden realization that Robb had been naked this entire time had somehow escaped (Y/N)’s attention as she felt the evidence of his heavily growing arousal against her body. His lips hovered as his warm breath hit her skin, and his low-timber voice whispered into her ear.

“At least you know where this night will take us,” he huskily growled. “Because I don’t plan on stopping until your womb is so full of my seed – it leaks from your cunt.”

He lowered his hands to grasp her hips before trailing them down to sink his hands over her ass. Showing his canines with a lecherous grin, Robb teasingly ground his hips against hers. He rubbed his hardening manhood against her warm core and reveled in the gasps and whimpers escaping her plumped lips. (Y/N) threw her head back as she could no longer hold back her cries of ecstasy. Taking full advantage of her exposed neck, Robb latched his lips just under her and traced the column of her neck with his soft, hot lips. The feeling of his lips combined with the scruff of his beard against her skin was nothing less than euphoric.

“Oh, Robb,” she breathily panted as their bodies rocked together in sync. “Gods, don’t stop!”

Her hands roamed until her fingers fisted around his dark copper curls. (Y/N) felt her lower body clench when he bit on a pulse point before giving languid strokes of his tongue on it. The contrast between his hot, wet tongue and the chill of his breath when he blew on it gave her goosebumps. (Y/N) softly pushed him back as she longingly gazed into his sapphire-ice pools with her (e/c) eyes and twirled one of his russet curls with her finger. Robb leaned forward and pressed a small peck on her lips as an overwhelming feeling of love encompassed him at her smile.

“I love you,” he sighed out, “do you know that? I love you, (Y/N). I love you so much.”

(Y/N) wanted so desperately to say it back, but the words failed. Seeing how much his love struggled, Robb cupped her cheek and reveled in her warmth as she nuzzled into his palm.

“You don’t have to say now,” he reassured her. “I just—I just want you to know that. Promise me no matter what, you know that.”

(Y/N) nodded. “I promise,” she said with a trembling voice. “I…I want it to say back. But I just…with everything that’s happened—I can’t help but feel like…if Red Wedding wasn’t going to be the thing that causes us to lose this war, I’m so scared of what will.”

Robb pressed a soft kiss to (Y/N)’s temple. “Don’t be scared. I know we’ll make it. We will win this war and take King’s Landing from the Lannisters. And when we do, Sansa will finally be free, and we can all return home.”

“To where you’ll rule the North as King in Winterfell,” (Y/N) mused in a wistful tone. “It feels like a sin to even dream of it now.”

Robb stroked his thumb over her cheek. “It’ll be your home, too.”

(Y/N) gave her beautiful king a genuine but sad smile. “I don’t want to talk about the future right now.”

Robb’s brow furrowed at her foreboding words. “What do you want to talk about?”

When (Y/N) pulled away and stepped off his lap, Robb was prepared to chase her through the camp naked if she dared run away while he was in this state. But she just stepped to the center of the space before removing her boots, followed by her stripping the dark leather breeches slowly down until the bare skin of her legs was revealed. She then lifted her tunic over her head along with her chest binder.

Robb was so painfully hard just from looking at her. He cursed himself for thinking he could ever be happy with Talisa, knowing that perfection was standing before him in his tent. His eyes drank in the sight of (Y/N)’s naked body as if looking away would kill him. He took it all in, from every scar that faded to a pale sliver to every beauty mark unique to her. He wondered if she truly knew how beautiful she was…if she understood how much she had completely and utterly bewitched his soul just with her presence. He wondered if she knew how much he wanted to kneel at her feet so that he could beg for her permission to let him worship her for the rest of his life.

(Y/N) began to walk toward him, and it felt as if the world around them was fading into incoherence, and only the two of them were left. When she finally reached him, she took his hand and placed it over her heart. She wanted him to feel it racing from his touch, from his gaze. Then, she lowered herself until her eyes leveled with his as she sat on the cot’s blankets. With her hands, she cupped his face and poured all her love for her king from her eyes.

“I’m tired,” she sighed. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this…of pretending I don’t want you. But most of all…I’m so tired of pretending that I…that I don’t love you.”

It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders as (Y/N) finally confessed her love for her king, Robb Stark. The man she marched with from Winterfell when Joffery first imprisoned his father. The man whom she fought beside and watched mourn for every good man who fell fighting for him. The man she’s loved since before she knew what love meant.

(Y/N) let out a heavy sob. “Because I do, Robb. I do love you. Gods, I love you so much – not just as a soldier loves their king, but as a woman who loves a man.”

Robb hadn’t realized he was crying until (Y/N) wiped a tear with her thumb. He took his hand from her chest and pulled her face towards him until their lips met again. Wet laughter mixed with tears and kisses made for a strange sight for an outsider, but it was a moment filled with more love and happiness than these two dared to hope. The way their bodies moved and swayed before (Y/N) fell on her back underneath Robb Stark as he hovered above her looked more akin to an awkward entanglement of limbs than an impassioned embrace. But for the two lovers, kissing each other seemed as easy as breathing and soothing like a gently falling summer snow. (Y/N) marveled at how easy it was to kiss Robb. It almost felt organic, with how naturally drunk they became by the taste of the other.

Soon, the kiss became more heated as (Y/N) and Robb grew more hungry to explore more of each other’s bodies. The more heated Robb kissed her, the more eager (Y/N)’s hands grew to explore his strong, muscular body. Her hands caressed his warm skin, and her fingers softly traced the scars that made him all the more desirable. His lips trailed to her chin and traveled down her neck until he had just reached the tops of her breasts. Grinning at how hard she was breathing, he took one breast in his hand and twisted her nipple. A needy cry left her lips at his harsh tugging before turning into a high-pitched whine when he bit the other.

Pleasure coursed through (Y/N)’s body like blue-hot lightning as her back arched into his body, and her entire frame felt paralyzed from it. She felt her core leaking from arousal as Robb’s hard, throbbing member was pressed against her stomach. Deciding that if he waited any longer, then he would likely burst, Robb used one hand to roam down (Y/N)’s body until he settled in the special place between her legs. He then took the other breast and tugged its nipple between his teeth before using his other hand to tug and twist the one previously in his mouth. Meanwhile, (Y/N)’s mind was so clouded in lust that she could not feel Robb stroking her clit with one finger before sinking two fingers inside her walls.

“Fuck…your walls are so tight on my fingers,” he huskily groaned as (Y/N) wept in ecstasy. “Such a wicked girl…avoiding your king and keeping this sweet cunt away from me. Every time I laid with that whore, I had to fight the urge to call out your name when I spilled into her. But you won’t do that anymore, will you? You know better to run now, right?”

“I-I-I won’t run! I’m yours, Robb! I only belong to you!” She stammered as Robb began to rub tight circles with his now-soaked fingers on her clit. She thrashed against the covers, fisting the furs on his bed to somehow anchor her. Her core tightened, and no matter how much she wanted to close her legs, his hips prevented her from doing so. As a result, (Y/N) had to take it and continue drowning in the pleasure that was Robb Stark’s love.

“Good girl,” Robb darkly chuckled as he straightened his back and placed his hands on the back of her thighs to spread them wide. He took his cock in his hand and rubbed its leaking tip against her folds. “Are you ready for me to take you? Are you ready to know how a wolf breeds his mate?”

(Y/N) quickly nodded. She couldn’t take the waiting any longer. “Please, Robb,” she begged. “Please take me—make me yours!”

With a single thrust, Robb plunged his entire length inside until he bottomed out, and the tip of his manhood kissed the entrance of her womb. The stretch of his thick, hard member against her walls gave the most delicious burn that made (Y/N) peak from the feeling of how deep he was inside her. Meanwhile, Robb’s face snarled at how warm and tight (Y/N)’s cunt felt around him. As her walls tightly clamped down on his length, he bit inside his cheek so hard that the coppery taste of blood coated his tongue to prevent him from erupting right then and there. His hand traveled to her hair and sharply tugged it back so that he could roughly kiss her. His blood only further aroused (Y/N)’s lust for the man inside her as she considered it another sign that she had tasted more of her king and another piece was inside her. Emboldened by this action, she wrapped her tights around his hips to further mold their bodies as one.

The way (Y/N)’s body was pressed against his inflamed Robb’s ardor as he pulled out until only the tip was still inside before roughly thrusting himself in fully. Each time he pulled out and pushed back in, she gave him a symphony of cries and begging that could be heard throughout the camp. The slapping of their skin from each thrust inside of (Y/N) made him grip her hips so tightly that she could already feel the bruises forming on her skin as a steady pace had been reached.

Sweat built on both the lovers’ bodies as (Y/N) began to dig her nails into Robb’s skin and claw long scratches down his back. The twinge of pain only made the young king want to sink deeper and deeper into her until they became one inseparable being. Robb tried to remind himself to go slower to avoid harm (Y/N), but one look in her eyes told him there was no need to hold back.

“Take me,” her eyes begged. “Make me completely yours from this day until my last days.”

Upon her request, it felt as if a dormant beast had taken over Robb, as all he could think about was how much he wanted to take her faster, harder, and rougher – until the only word she could say was his name. As he set off at a new pace, (Y/N)’s eyes rolled back as she began to babble out incoherent cries and moans. It felt like there was no part of her mind, body, and soul that wasn’t wholly drowning from waves of pleasure crashing into her.

She was sure the following day, she would do everything in her power to avoid everyone’s eyes, as they all likely heard her moaning for their king like a common whore. But for now, at this moment, she wanted to only exist for Robb and continue drowning in his love.

Soon, it wasn’t long before the familiar feeling of a knot tightening inside her began to coil more tautly as Robb continued to lavish her in his adoration. (Y/N) could feel her pleasure climbing higher and higher until the knot grew so tight that it snapped. It felt as if a dam had burst, and a heavy flood of pleasure crashed into every muscle of her body. The release had made her feel as if her body had reached new heights of pleasure so immense that it became almost painful as tears started to roll down her cheeks. (Y/N)’s eyes shot wide, and she opened her mouth as her back arched into him, but no sound was made. There was nothing that could adequately convey the

Feeling (Y/N) release on his cock, Robb growled as he felt the last vestiges of his sanity snap and lost all composure. He began to increase his pace until his thrusts became rough and frantic to chase his end. He pushed her thighs until they were pressed against her chest before wildly thrusting deeper inside her walls to feel more of her heat. He was able to fuck into her once, thrice, ten more times before his body went taut, and he spilled his seed into (Y/N)’s womb. Her soaked, vice walls gripped around him and tried to milk all of him in desperate want to carry his child.

As Robb felt the last of his cum leave him, a wave of exhaustion crashed into him, and his arms were no longer able to prevent his body from falling atop (Y/N). Panting for air and resting his head in the crook of her neck, Robb turned to rest on his side while making sure her body was still connected to his. His touch became soothing and gentle as he whispered his dreams and hopes for a child with her hair and his eyes to be borne from this night. She tiredly giggles as he delicately kisses her cheeks, nose, temple, and brow while he talks.

He wanted to weep tears of joy. He felt almost…blessed. After aimlessly wandering in a barren wasteland with no clear end, Robb felt as close to peace as the first time he shared a bed with (Y/N). Robb wraps his arms around her frame and brings furs to cover them as a chilling breeze enters the tent, and (Y/N) shivers from the chill. He tightens his embrace as sleep takes over him.

He whispers in her ear, “I love you, (Y/N). We will be so happy together. I know we will.”

She slightly hesitates before replying. “I am yours, Robb. I swear this to you.”

Her king was so lost in his bliss that he didn’t notice the sadness in her eyes and the tremble in her voice.

A gentle stream of light stirred Robb awake. He stretched his arms and blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Based on how loud it was outside his tent, it was late in the day. He reached out to hold you once more…when he felt your side of his bed feel cold. Immediately alarmed, Robb shot up and looked around his surroundings.

There was no sign of you anywhere.

Your clothes…your bag…your sword…even your bloody scent was gone!

Robb shot out of bed and hastily dressed himself in only his breeches and doublet to begin searching for you. But just as he was about to leave after putting on his boots, a small scroll had been placed in the middle of his desk. He dashed over and quickly opened it. The instant relief from recognizing your handwriting cruelly died as he read over your words, and he could feel his heart breaking.

Every word I said last night holds true – from this day to my last day. I am yours, Robb Stark. But you cannot be mine.

Also, I plan to make this a...3 part series? Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Please comment your thoughts and reblog if you think more people would like to read this!

Tagging: @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @llonelygoddess, @arcielee, @countrymusiclover, @yns-world, @axelsagewrites, @bre99, @katzoinks, @asongofrhaenyra, @rise-my-angel, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @anewpersonthatexists, @bogbutteronmycroissant, @sylasthegrim, @writingsofwesteros, @julessworldd , @dipperscavern

#robb stark x reader #robb stark x female reader #robb stark x fem reader #robb stark fanfic #robb stark smut #game of thrones fix it #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones fic #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #dark robb stark #dark fic #my writing

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lemonhemlock · 1 year

Note

Thoughts on alys/aemond and alys in general

It's very hard to get a proper reading on Alys' character because she is tied with the supernatural and the maesters writing the histories do not understand and tend to dismiss magic. She is supposed to be twice (or thrice??) Aemond's age, but looks unusually young. Is she just a MILF with a good skin care routine? Is she a fire priestess like Melisandre? Can she even get pregnant anymore? Does she conceive the child via magic?

Their dynamic is also open to discussion. Aemond puts House Strong to the sword, but spares Alys. What does she feel about this? Some of those children must have been in her care; she must have breastfed them herself. Is it true that she gave them up willingly? Did she betray them because she was afraid? Did she give them up because she hated them and felt mistreated by them? Did Aemond abuse his power differential in regards to her? Is Alys the one actually manipulating Aemond here?

In any case, Aemond's relationship with Alys is a norm-transgression. This is where I disagree with the majority of green takes on Aemond. By entering in a relationship with Alys, he disrespects his betrothal with the Baratheon girl. Green Knights like to argue that dutiful Aemond would lawfully marry Alys, so that their child wouldn't be born a bastard, but the text isn't clear on whether this actually happened. I would counterpoint that Aemond marrying Alys makes things even worse. The reality is that he can get away with having bastards because he is a man. If he marries her, he completely breaks off the Baratheon pact, bamboozles his brother's alliance with an important military player and effectively endangers the lives of his family by making them vulnerable to a Baratheon coup.

We joke about Robb being irresponsible with Jeyne Westerling, breaking his betrothal and ultimately contributing to his own downfall. We should extend the same type of criticism to Aemond. Bear in mind that, as compensation, Robb offered Walder Frey another very profitable marriage pact. Edmure was not just Some Guy, he was the Lord of Riverrun and Walder Frey's liege lord. And, yet, Walder Frey still orchestrated the Red Wedding in revenge. He wasn't content with Edmure, he wanted the King as his brother-in-law, as promised.

Similarly, the Baratheons were promised Aemond, the second son, with the biggest dragon. Would they settle for Daeron, the third son? Maybe, maybe not. But what about the shame of one of the Four Storms being set aside for a bastard wet nurse? Rhaenyra also has sons they can request for betrothals. This is why Alicent moves quickly after Aemond's and Helaena's deaths to betroth Aegon to Cassandra Baratheon. They are important military allies they need to keep no matter what.

From a story writing standpoint, by introducing Aemond's and Alys' relationship, the author places Aemond on a slippery slope towards the point-of-no-return. Aemond cannot come back from the God's Eye now, because there is no place for him in the narrative anymore. He cannot reunite with his family, because he would have to set Alys aside and marry the Baratheon girl. That is impossible, because his obsession with her becomes all-consuming. He is effectively snatched away from his own story by the paranormal. Alys is a witch with a terrifying aura about her; as an extension of the supernatural, she cannot be contained within the Red Keep as Aemond's mistress.

Their relationship signals the beginning of the end for Aemond. It traps him in a limbo from which he cannot exit, but also cannot go on indefinitely. His arc can only end with Daemon and Caraxes.

My reading of Aemond is that he is a person struggling with his sense of duty, after keeping to his principles and to societal rules for so long. He receives no compensation. He loses an eye and is denied justice. He becomes more suited than Aegon for kingship, but it is all in vain, because unworthy Aegon will always be ahead of him in the line of succession. Aemond has followed the rulebook to a tee, only to end up feeling slighted and disregarded.

The one time he unleashes his buried feelings of injustice and rage, he loses control of Vhagar, kills Luke and inadvertently starts the war. He will blame himself for Blood & Cheese, for causing his family unimaginable pain, for crushing his sister's soul. He will spiral and lose impulse control and drown before he can save himself.

Aemond is a very tragic character and the story advertises his doom very noticeably with the inclusion of Alys. But, ultimately, an analysis of Aemond shouldn't ignore the fact that, textually, he is an oathbreaker and a hypocrite. He interacts with the issue of bastardy both by sleeping with a bastard of House Strong (!) himself and by fathering a bastard child on her. He endangers his family by breaking his vows to the Baratheons. Dutiful Aemond fights for his brother's claim till the very end, but he threatens the success of his brother's campaign precisely by not carrying out his duty.

#aemond targaryen #alys rivers #house of the dragon #dance of the dragons #i hope alys is like skade from the last kingdom bc that would be hilarious #she just looks at ppl in the most intentionally provocative way and says the craziest shit #while everyone is terrified out of their minds it's so funny #she has never said one normal sentence in her life #i want to like this but aemond is so doomed!!!!#i'm so weak i just want him to have a break #i will probably end up liking alys i'm a sucker for the cool witch trope #but i'm screaming @ him to fly back to storm's end & marry his baratheon lady #this is also why i don't agree with the idea that aemond would never father bastards or helaena's kids #BUT MORE ON THAT ANOTHER TIME #anon #ask #riverdragon #anti alysmond

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rosalinrabbit · 1 year

Text

Nectar of the Gods

Blue Banisters Track List

Pairing: Robb Stark x Fem! Mormont Reader

Warnings: Hurt, hurt no comfort, past relationships, family deaths, briefly mentioned violence, final goodbyes, pure angst, Robb being an idiot and putting the North in danger

Summary: After the death of your aunt and your father, you knew you had to return to Bear Island. You couldn’t take it anymore, watching Robb live a life you weren’t a part of any longer. When the King in the North himself finds you packing your bags, many things left unsaid finally come to light.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: This is the start of the Blue Banisters Track List!! (A new project which is likely going to be a bit inconsistent in terms of order and posting)

This fic is a mix of show and book canon if that makes sense? I was rewatching the show and every time we get to the whole Robb x Talisa plotline I lose my mind at how weird it is but I digress.

You are in charge of your own media consumption. Please read responsibly.

Do not translate or re-upload any of my work. Works are only cross-posted on AO3.

< What sweet world is this? Honey on the vine..

School kid dreams came true, then passed in the night

I used to dream about people like you, now I don’t know why… >

-Lana Del Rey, Nectar of the Gods

You hurried to pack your things from the tent you had once shared with your aunt, the one you still shared with two of her daughters, your cousins, Dacey and Lyra. Maege’s oldest and third oldest. The rest, Alysane, Jorelle, and Lyanna, remained at Bear Island.

The she-bear is no more. When her daughters decided to remain by the King’s side, you knew you could not. Then, the message came from up North. From the Wall.

To your luck, the raven’s message landed in the hands of Catelyn Stark, not her son’s. It was Catelyn who came up to you, pulling you into her tent to talk alone. Her eyes alone saw the tears when she told you.

Your father was dead. Killed by his own men in a mutiny beyond the wall.

You were taught better than to react in the way you did, in disbelief and agony. In shock. You had stared at the older woman for a few moments before you could even process her words, yet your eyes seemed to beat your mind to it, tears streaming down your face as you stared past Catelyn, towards the opening of the tent and out into the beyond.

When the sobs broke through, you felt her hands on your arms, holding you up so you wouldn’t fall over, bringing you close and providing you with the comfort only a mother could, even though you would never get to call her by that name.

Even though she herself had expected you to one day.

You were thankful that Catelyn atleast understood your pain. While you hailed from Bear Island, while you held the name Mormont and were loyal as can be to House Stark, while you knew how to fight and lead like the rest of your family, the pain of it all weighed on you. As much as you tried to hide it, for the pride of your house, for your own dignity, it was far too much, and you and the Stark matriarch both knew the pain went beyond the death of your father.

It was everything inbetween.

The two Stark girls whom you loved like sisters, in what felt like increasingly mortal danger because of Robb’s rebellion.

The death of your aunt, who cared for you as though you were her own when your mother died, when your much older half-brother Jorah disgraced the house, and when your father left to take the black.

The fear for your house and your future, leaving your dear young cousin Lyanna at home and in charge of Bear Island with her mother’s most trusted advisors.

The fact that your father was killed by his own men, by the job he had commited his life to.

The heartbreak of Robb moving on.

The anger caused by his stupidity.

The moment you learned he had married that Westerling woman, the one who traveled along with the infantry, healing men who probably didn’t have a chance, you knew this war was doomed. Not because of what Walder Frey would do, but because of Robb’s clear lack of foresight. How could he not see what the rest of you saw? All for one woman.

You had never asked that of him.

Your engagement had been broken off when the war began. He told you he wanted to keep the engagement but did not want you to be a target, and you had told him that the greatest chance he’d have at winning this war was through an advantageous marriage. One that would offer far more than your family could. You didn’t do it because you didn’t love him, no. The both of you were desolate at the reality of it all. In your mind, you hoped he would refuse to marry throughout the war. Hoped the “young wolf” would be strong enough, that he wouldn’t need to. But you knew better, and you knew he needed the numbers. If Arya and Sansa were going to survive, he needed a stronger army and a wife that could offer more to him standing by his side.

When he promised to marry Walder Frey’s daughter, your heart broke. Yet the passage was worth it. The North was worth it.

You would do it a thousand times over for Sansa and Arya, and you’d do the same for your own young cousins that were like sisters to you. Not that Dacey and Lyra needed protecting, but if they did, you would do it for them without much thought.

For his family, for his sisters, you broke the engagement.

And Robb threw all of that away, and the North along with it, by marrying Talisa.

As you changed into more suitable riding clothes, you couldn’t help but think of the past. Of when you thought you had it all figured out. You closed your eyes, and tears slipped out at the memories of him.

Holding his hand and walking through the glass gardens. Braiding Sansa’s hair. Chasing after Bran and Arya as they climbed up walls and through windows.

Or when he kissed you in the Godswood, telling you that you were standing on the spot where you would eventually marry.

Lies.

You would never have any of those things again.

“Y/n?”

You startled at Robb’s voice, wiping away any stray tears and turning around to prepare to face him, hiding your bags behind your back.

“Yes, your highness?” You responded bitterly as he entered the tent on your response.

“Please don’t call me that. When did you ever get so formal?” He muttered.

“I’ve always been formal to those who require it.”

“I do not require it of you.”

“Your station and our relationship does.”

“You mean our lack of a relationship?” He bit slightly before calming again.

You stood, unmoving, eyes glazing past him as you waited for him to get on with it. He stepped forward and you stiffened.

“I had realized we never spoke about Maege…” He stepped even closer and his hand reached up before you quickly took a step back from him, confused at his purpose and his words. He looked at you with a pained expression at your coldness, and it just made you angry. None of this was your choice. “Your aunt was a great woman,” he began. “I know you loved her deeply, and she looked after you like you were her own. I am truly sorry for your loss.”

Perhaps, under different circumstances, Robb’s condolences may have made you soften. May have had you second-guessing your choice to leave. Now, looking at him, you could hardly recognize the man you once loved. He spoke with the compassion he always seemed to hold within him, yet the way he stood, the way he looked, he had this strange self-righteousness. As if this could save you from your pain… and what of your father? He must not know.

You stood there staring at him before you spoke, in as neutral a tone as you could muster. “We have all made great sacrifices, your highness. I believe my aunt may rest easy knowing her own sacrifice, that of her life, saved countless others.” Unlike you, you thought to yourself. No, he sacrifices others. Not himself.

Robb wasn’t an idiot, and his expression sunk at your words. “I appreciate every sacrifice that has been made on behalf of the North.”

Sadness and anger were welling up within you, and gods, you wanted to yell at him. You wondered if you could still get away with something like that, yet you simply muttered, thinking of your father, your aunt, the stark girls. “And a great many, indeed.”

“Y/n… do not insinuate that I do not know sacrifice. I have lost as much, if not more, compared to all those here.”

“Whatever you believe,” you spoke, looking directly into his eyes, “it doesn’t really matter in the end, does it? It doesn’t matter what we’ve lost, it’s already gone.” You turned your head away, willing tears to stay put in your eyes.

“I am sorry.”

You didn’t know what he was apologizing for. “It is what it is.”

“I made you a promise. And I broke it.”

“You did.”

“Why must you always act like it doesn’t matter to you?” He scoffed, frustrated. There was a pause. “Were you.. were you packing up your things to leave?”

You turned to look at your bags on the bed.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, your highness.”

“Don’t call me that, please, for gods sakes. And all I ever wanted was an ounce of pushback from you! We were to be married, and you gave that away so easily, yet now you punish me for it every day because I married Talisa!”

“Robb,” you spoke harshly, stopping his rant, giving him what he seemed to want. An honest response. “You’re right, I am angry with you. Just not for the selfish reasons you think I am.”

“Well if you’re abandoning the war effort, it’s better for me to hear it now before you’re taken prisoner.”

You sighed at his childish threat. “I think you haven’t seen a single thing I’ve done. Of course breaking the engagement mattered to me! How could you not see that? You know how much I loved you, how on earth could you really think I gave that up so easily? Without second thoughts? I did it for you! And you’re so far up your own arse at this point that you can’t even see that! I sacrificed my love for you for the lives of your sisters. For the chance to win this war. Is that not a good enough reason for you? It’s not that you married Talisa, it’s that I agreed to end the engagement while under the impression that it would change the tides of the war. That you would marry a Frey and secure the twins. But you didn’t do that, Robb. And it felt like a knife in my back.” Robb stood a few paces away from you, a hurt expression across his face, one of shame and sadness. “I made that sacrifice for nothing.”

“I love her. That’s why I married her. I loved, I still love, you… I could not marry a woman I did not love. It wouldn’t have been right for either of us.”

“This is not about love, Robb. It is about duty, and honor. I know you believe what you did was honorable, honorable to the sanctity of vows and marriage… but you killed hundreds if not thousands of our men with your choice. Is that worth it to you? Is that truly so honorable, if it meant breaking your promises?”

“We will make it right with the Freys, and pay our debts another way. But you, you broke your promise to me. And now you stand here with your bags packed, is that not breaking your promise, too?”

“I did it for your family! I did it to try to save your sisters, and I did it for you! How can you not see that? And I’m leaving now because my family is in trouble, my cousins just lost their mother and now must rule the island. I’ve given up so much for you, for your family…” You rose your voice in anger, beginning to lose control of your emotions, hands beginning to shake as you tied up your bags.

“Even if they are family, what would your father think of you being a deserter?”

“Do not speak of my father-“ your voice broke, tears welling up in your eyes.

“If you were under his command he’d have you killed for abandoning your position, y/n,”

“He’s dead, Robb!” You yelled, eyes locking to his, tears dripping from your eyes like spring rain. “My father is dead.”

“Y/n- I didn’t know,” Robb’s face had fallen to one of sympathy, his hand reached out for you, to comfort you like he had so many times in the past. And this time you let his hand reach your shoulder. You stiffly let him protectively put a hand on the top of your head, and pull you into his embrace. After a moment, you relaxed into his warmth, exhaling shakily as the tears kept coming. “I know how much he meant to you. I am so sorry…”

“Robb, you have to let me go,” you whispered, and you knew he understood you meant he needed to let you return home, because his hold around you was maintained. “I don’t have anything left for me here. I want another chance. A chance to be happy. I want to protect and defend my home, and the family I have left.”

“I can’t,” he told you earnestly. “I can’t.”

“You’re married, you moved on… So why won’t you let me?”

“I didn’t, really. I couldn’t.”

“But you did. You can’t take any of it back, Robb. And I know that I can’t either.” You paused to collect yourself before continuing. “Do you want to know how my father died?”

He was silent for a moment before asking, “how?”

“His own men killed him. There was a mutiny.” His grip around you tightened. “My father was an incredibly respected man. And in the end, no matter how much he did right, he did not pay enough attention to what was right in front of him. I don’t think he ever considered just how possible it was that his men would turn on him.”

“The North is stronger than a band of criminals. We have a family name to stand behind, we have bannermen who swore oaths for generations. It is different,” he rationalized, looking down at you. And you looked up, and then, you could remember why you fell in love with him. With his handsome face and dark curls, his fierce yet pragmatic nature, the overwhelming protection, and the way his adoration for you shone through his eyes. The way you could feel it. And your heart hurt, because you thought he might be wrong. His eyes stayed on yours as you spoke.

“Nothing is as strong as it seems, Robb… You just crossed Walter Frey. One of the most selfish men I’ve ever met, the lord of a great river lands house, and of the crossing, which you desperately need for this war… I could be wrong. I could be, but I’ve already lost you. I’ve already lost your sisters. I’ve lost my aunt, who raised me as her own, and I’ve lost my father. I cannot be here anymore. There is nothing for me here, and while I can never forgive you for the choices you made, I also cannot bear to lose more of you than I already have.”

Robb brought his hands up to your face, brushing the water from your eyes as his own eyes welled with tears.

“You have to let me go,” you pleaded again, voice barely even a whisper.

“I know,” he nodded. “At least let me get a horse and supplies for you. Meet me at the eastern edge of the camp.”

And with that, he quickly withdrew his hands, leaving your tent without a second glance.

As you waited, you ensured you had packed everything. You double-checked the items and re-laced your boots before throwing on a warm cloak and stepping outside. The air was growing colder, and with the winds came winter.

You quickly made your way to the edge, and by the tree line you spotted him. Standing with your horse, already saddled.

He was silent when you approached, and could not meet your eye as he took your bags and attached them. He automatically held a hand out to help you mount, but when you took it, he looked at you again. And he truly looked at you. His eyes ran over the details of your face, like he was committing it to memory, and held your hand like a lifeline. He looked at you with sad desperation, pulling you into a hug once more, tucking your head under his chin and holding you so tight you could hardly breathe. When his grip loosened, he placed a tender kiss to your forehead, and within it held every memory, and every touch.

“You know where to go. Just promise me to be careful. Go quickly, don’t stop for anyone… I love you, y/n.” His voice sounded hoarse, too much emotion behind it to even speak of.

“I love you too, Robb,” you told him, staring deep into his eyes as you cried for what felt like the millionth time that day. “And I am sorry that wasn’t enough.”

He simply nodded, and helped you onto the horse.

He did not look at you as you fixed the hold on the reins or the lay of your cloak along your back, but as you urged your horse into a galloping pace and you looked back, his eyes were fixed on you.

You knew then that you would always love him, and no matter how lost he made you feel, and while you could never forgive him, you could now move forward. You knew you could find your way.

Whether Robb made it through or not, your situations wouldn’t change. Too much had transpired to ever go back.

No, even if you both survived this war, you knew that this would be the last time you ever saw Robb Stark.

#robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark x you #king in the north #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #house stark #rorabbit

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goodqueenaly · 5 months

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Hello! I hope you are well. I'm back with another weirdly specific question/topic I'd love to read your thoughts on. I was looking at the Frey family tree (as one does) and a detail that I hadn't really paid attention to before- there seem to be a few instances of sisters from the same house marrying into the Freys? Sallei and Sylwa Paege, possibly Sarya and Wynafrei Wheat? And--sorry this is going to be weird!--I thought Corenna and Cyrenna Swann might be sisters and I think Walder is (continue

(continued) I think Walder Frey is a person who...would not have hesitation to marry his son's sister-in-law (if Cyrenna and Corenna were sisters). Do you think that's possible at all? And do you think that--if these examples were actually all sisters--there would be a political or dynastic explanation for it, that there would be this kind of pattern? Sorry for the long question. I love your analysis of this kind of marriage/family tree in ASOIAF and would love to hear your thoughts.

While it's certainly not guaranteed that any two female characters are sisters as opposed to cousins or other relations (a point I mentioned with Betha and Melantha Blackwood), I think it is entirely possible that these pairs of Frey brides were in fact sisters in each case. I also think it is entirely possible that Walder would have married the sister of his son's own bride (which, to be sure, was not entirely unheard of in history: Catherine de' Medici schemed to wed her younger daughter Margaret to Carlos, son of Philip II of Spain, after her older daughter Elisabeth), given Walder's own focus on expanding his personal dynasty. Indeed, this was a point I made when I created a speculative family tree for House Whent: since it appears Sarya and Wynafrei married their Frey husbands at roughly the same time, it’s possible that Walder tried to arrange for an advantageous betrothal with the proud Whents (as had Hoster Tully or his father) by offering himself, as a lord in his own right, as well as his eighth son.

As for the Swanns, while it certainly appears that Corenna and Cyrenna married Stevron and Lord Walder, respectively, in roughly the same period of time (given that Stevron’s son by Corenna, Ryman, and Walder’s elder son by Cyrenna, Jared, were both born somewhere in the late 240s), we cannot even begin to guess why father and son married women who might have been sisters, still less why the Swanns agreed to to the double marriage. Did the Swanns, Baptista Minola-like, refuse a marriage for Corenna unless Cyrenna was found a suitor too? Did Walder offer himself, with all the status and advantage of a lordly marriage not perhaps otherwise guaranteed to Cyrenna Swann, if he could secure a match with the proud and ancient Swanns for his heir? Did Walder secure an otherwise unattainable double match with House Swann because, perhaps, the Swanns may have been out of favor with the crown in the aftermath of Lyonel Baratheon’s rebellion? Any or none of these might have explained the double Frey-Swann marriage.

This lack of explanation holds even more true for Sallei and Sylwa Paege, married to the full brothers Jammos and Whalen Frey. Again, while their children are roughly of an age (with Sylwa's son and daughter being four and three years old, respectively, than Sallei's eldest child), there is no evidence whatsoever as to whether these (possible) sisters married their Frey husbands at the same time, still less why they might have done so (or married these brothers at all). These daughters/nieces/cousins of a mere landed knight may have simply married the sons of a lordly neighbor House for lack of better dynastic options, and Walder Frey in turn may have seen these two sufficiently aristocratic sisters/relatives as being an easy means of getting rid of two of his own extraneous sons. But again, until and unless GRRM decides to provide more detail, we're left with the most vague level of speculation.

#asoiaf meta #marriage making #house frey #walder frey #house swann #house paege #house whent

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aegor-bamfsteel · 15 days

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Hello Bamfsteel. I have been following your blog for over a year now but I realize I haven't commented or reblogged much (I kinda avoid online interaction because I'm terrified of accidentally offending someone). But I cannot express how much I love your blog, and admire you for carrying on despite the hate you get from antis. I was already ambivalent about Daemon, but you got me rooting for him... and for Daena, Rohanne, and Aegor, the last of whom in particular is basically unanimously hated by the fandom (hell, one random tvtropes page even called him worse than Aerys the Mad King)!! So I'm grateful for your blog and hope you keep posting.

Anyway, as a fan of both the Blackfyres and Arthuriana, I'm currently planning to write an Arthurian retelling of Daemon I's life and was wondering about how he chose his sigil/heraldry. Twoiaf says that he simply reversed the Targaryen colors because that's what all bastards do. But I don't know if there are any other examples of this happening in canon.

On the contrary, I recall Jon saying to Arya in AGoT: "Girls get the arms but not the swords. Bastards get the swords but not the arms. I did not make the rules, little sister."

So now I wonder if the 'black dragon on a red field' was actually Daena's personal coat of arms, and Daemon simply chose it after Aegon's acknowledgement as a symbol of defiance and loyalty to his beloved mother. I love the notion that the chivalrous-to-the-last-breath Daemon Blackfyre didn't care all that much for his terrible and blatantly unchivalrous 'father' and instead everything he did, from winning the squires tourney to rebelling against Daeron, was his way of making his mother proud and atoning for all the humiliation she had to suffer due to his birth.

Sorry for the long ask. I am just excited to meet a fellow Blackfyre fan :)

Hello, thesupercat. Thank you for the long ask, and putting up with my slow responses over the past year. I have a little more free time/motivation to write recently, so I’m trying to answer more questions. I’m glad that my posts could bring your fandom experience some happiness. If you ever write the Arthuriana about Daemon I, don’t be afraid to send me a link.

TWOIAF and Dunk actually have different origins of the Black Dragon sigil; Dunk claims “the arms of House Targaryen had borne a three-headed dragon, red on black. Daemon the Pretender had reversed those colors on his own banners, as many bastards did.” (The Sworn Sword) but TWOIAF actually says “Reversing the colors of the traditional Targaryen arms to show a black dragon on a red field, the rebels declared for Princess Daena's bastard son Daemon Blackfyre, First of His Name, proclaiming him the eldest true son of King Aegon IV, and his half brother Darren the bastard.” (TWOIAF Darren II) What a lot of antis miss in their analysis of Daemon and Aegor is conflating their actions with that of what the Reds said their supporters did (if Daemon didn’t create the sigil, it could be evidence that the rebellion wasn’t premeditated, which I believe) I actually had an interesting debate about which version of the origin of the sigil was more logical with someone (I’d taken Dunk’s word to be true), but it’s actually more interesting if the rebels came up with it, because you’re right (no matter what the wiki has to say about it) the reversed sigil color scheme alone doesn’t actually indicate illegitimate origin: it requires that and a diagonal (usually red) slash, called in heraldry a “bend sinister” (which was used in real life illegitimate sigils, like the cadet branches of the House of Bourbon, Conti and Condé). There are multiple examples of illegitimate sons/their descendants using the reversed colors of their father’s house and the bend sinister: Walder Rivers and Walder of Woodmere (a silver castle on a blue field and a red bend sinister, for Frey), and the cadet branch houses Oldflowers (ten white hands on a green field and a red bend sinister, for Gardner), Vikary (quartered with a white lion on red crossed by a gold bend sinister, for Reyne), and Bolling (quartered with a gold stag on a black field and an orange bend sinister, for Durrandon). The other illegitimate children whose sigils are described are variations on a family sigil without the inverse colors (Aegor Rivers, Brynden Rivers) or something completely different (Benedict Justman, Blackshield). Far from being a simple sigil that marks being illegitimate Targaryen, the black-dragon-on-red-field is a symbol of anti-Targaryen defiance that rejects the “bend sinister” marker for a different lineage of dragon (a cat of a different coat, I guess), which makes a lot of sense if you consider the war was due to disgust at the current Targ regime. Daemon technically had the right to use the Targaryen sigil proper since he was legitimized (look at the Velaryon boys), but I’m certain Da3ron would’ve forbid him because that would be “putting him on princely level” never mind that he is a prince as Daena’s son and Yandel knows this; he might’ve actually used a different style of arms before the First Blackfyre that we don’t know of (same with Aegor, who got the black wings on his Pegasus sigil due to House Blackfyre; I headcanon him using a plain blue field during his youth, for the Riverlands), or even the sigil we know of with the bend sinister (which the rebels removed acclaiming Daemon their legitimate king waging war against an illegitimate usurper; also as a Targaryen bastard, Da3ron could’ve had the same sigil as Daemon which the rebels wouldn’t have wanted). But, you seem to be correct that whoever created the sigil put more thought into it than “reversed color scheme is what all illegitimate children do”.

There are two women described as having personal arms: Rhaenyra Targaryen and Barbrey Dustin, ruling ladies with important family connections. The Targaryen sigil is also often personalized to distinguish between brothers and cousins (Aerion, Prince Daeron, Valarr, Maekar all have variations on dragon position, color, borders, number), though usually not for the king or his heir except in civil war conflicts (both Rhaenyra and her brother Aegon II have variations on the Targaryen sigil. Which I guess makes sense why Daemon’s supporters wanted a separate Blackfyre sigil). Daena was also acclaimed queen by some, and according to a GRRM answer wanted to be queen, so it’s possible she had a variation on the Targaryen sigil as personal arms. It’s interesting that the most popular variation on using house sigils is when the person wants to honor their mother’s family: Harras Harlaw (Serrett peacock), Joffrey/Tommen/Myrcella (Lannister lion, which Jon thinks is overly proud), Cleos Frey (Lannister lion), Benfrey Frey (Rosby chevronnels), both Big and Little Walder (who quarter the Frey castles with sigils of their mother’s and grandmother’s families), and Harry Hardyng (quartering the diamonds of Hardyng with 2 Falcons for his Arryn grandmother and 1 broken wheel for his Waynwood mother) all incorporate their mother’s/grandmother’s family sigils to show their high lineage. Even Rhaenyra Targaryen quartered her two red dragons with the Arryn falcon for her mother and the silver seahorse for her first husband. It’s entirely possible Daena, famous for wearing black during her youth and twice uncrowned, incorporated a black dragon into her personal arms (though I like to think she also incorporated the Velaryon seahorse for her mother’s family, to better differentiate herself from the “usurper branch” of Viserys II), and Daemon accepted the nickname “the Black Dragon” partly to honor her (the connection between them wearing black was one of my earliest hc posts). That Daemon’s descent from Daena is emphasized in the same sentence as his supporters creating the black-dragon-on-red-field banner could be seen as connecting the reversal of “traditional Targ arms” to her, as being “Targaryen on both sides” was used at least in Rhaenyra’s case as a mark of better legitimacy. Tl;dr if you want to say that Daemon’s battle sigil is a black dragon to honor Daena, there’s enough symbolic connections considering other examples of personal/illegitimate arms to make that argument, especially for a fanfic.

I hope you have a good rest of your day. My askbox is always open if you have more questions, though response time may be slow.

#ask #asoiaf #house blackfyre #daemon blackfyre #daena targaryen #sigils #asoiaf headcanon #long post

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windriverdelta · 16 days

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On the Grand Northern Conspiracy

Somehow I have been thinking a lot about the Grand Northern Conspiracy, an ASOIAF fan theory that posits that in AFFC/ADWD the lords of the North and Riverlands are plotting to install Jon Snow as King in the North. Well, no time like present to write a comment.

TL;DR I find it extremely implausible and would very surprised if TWOW featured anything even resembling that. It's a far-fetched conspiracy theory.

First of all, as other people like @turtle-paced have pointed out, there are lots of barriers to communication between the supposed conspirators and no evidence that they could coordinate their actions. Now, there is evidence in Arya's ASOS chapters that the Brotherhood Without Banners has contacts to the Riverlords and one wonders if Jaime Lannister in AFFC is being deliberately steered to Brienne, but that doesn't mean the Northerners can do the same.

Second, where is the set-up for the Northern lords using Stannis like that? Late Walder Frey is amply established as a traitor, opportunist and oathbreaker two books before the Red Wedding, there is no foreshadowing at all for Mormont, mountain clans etc. This isn't Game of Thrones, spectacular betrayals do not come out of thin air in ASOIAF. In this context, it's worth noting that foreshadowing in ASOIAF usually takes the form of a few unambiguous meaningful events, not a lot of very ambiguous little things that can interpreted in multiple ways like the infamous "Corn Code"

Three, Jon Snow does not work very well as a fulcrum for such a conspiracy. Ignoring for a moment that nobody has bothered getting his buy-in for such a plot (what if he deems it dishonourable and sleazy and ices out all the participants?), there is no indication that any physical copy of Robb's will survived the Red Wedding. Remember, the various lords and ladies are referred to as its "witnesses", and most of them are now prisoners of the Freys. Look at it from a character's perspective: Two lords who somehow survived the Red Wedding, claiming that Robb wanted to make Jon king. Why would anyone believe them? Especially Jon Snow, who knows in ADWD that Robb was killed by his own men, he has no reason at all to trust Maege or Galbart. And without the will, Jon Snow would just be an usurper and deserter from the Night's Watch.

Narrative-wise, I don't see much foreshadowing of Jon being king in the north in the main series - all so-called "foreshadowing" I've seen are ambiguous allusions or far-fetched interpretations. I see no thematic or character purpose, either - I tend to think that R+L=J, the three dragons and his assassination lead into him being a dragonrider and fighter against the Others. In my opinion, the political side of the Northern storyline is Sansa and Stannis' job. And there is plenty of potential conflict around them without the need for a king in the north scheme.

But the big sticking point is that the actions of many of the supposed conspirators don't fit with theory. Just to cite a few examples:

Lady Stoneheart is not crowning Jon with anything but a noose, not in a million years, there is no evidence whatsoever that she's anything but a revenge zombie.

Wyman Manderly is entrusting Rickon Stark to consummate Stannis loyalist Davos Seaworth, which makes no sense at all if he planned to betray Stannis later - why would he risk Rickon becoming Stannis' hostage?

We have no reason to believe that Barbrey Dustin is lying about not liking the Starks - for one thing, Dustin troops are noticeable by their absence for the War of Five Kings, true to her word. She'll probably jump ship if Roose falls, but that's not the same thing as becoming a Stark restorationist. In fact, I could see her supporting Stannis to take the Starks down a peg.

People keep citing Lyanna Mormont's defiant letter to Stannis as proof of Bear Island not being truly on his side, but not only is she (as Jon points out) not in charge of House Mormont, we later see Alysane marching with Stannis. She almost certainly is in contact with Maege given her comments to Asha about her family; I doubt that this is a right hand vs left hand situation. I am not even sure that she has much of a retinue, either - the problem with Rickon above may exist here too. Finally, recall that in AGOT Maege challenged Robb, telling him that he was so young as to have no business giving her commands. The Mormonts don't let anyone boss them around, that doesn't mean that they are Frey Lite.

In short, this theory requires lots of poorly foreshadowed OOC behaviour to enable a rather pointless political ploy that doesn't fit the narrative very well.

#asoiaf #the winds of winter #stannis baratheon #jon snow #grand northern conspiracy #rickon stark #wyman manderly #lyanna mormont #alysane mormont #barbrey dustin #robb stark #lady stoneheart #anti grand northern conspiracy

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ladystoneboobs · 12 days

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not surprised that walder frey is in last place in my nonlion kingslayers poll, but i am a bit surprised that euron is in 2nd-to-last place behind petyr baelish. his scene directly killing balon on the show was the one cool, true-to-character scene show!euron had, and book!euron is so funny when accused of kinslaying regicide, in the way he doesn't even deny it, just enjoys his little secrets.

"do you think i control the wind to blow balon to his death, asha? am i the storm? the storm god, even? my friends here don't think so, (tho i haven't denied that either), and if you need to know the truth about me you can always ask my toungeless crew, i'm sure they'd be happy to talk to you too."

is that not closer to roose bolton's twisted humor with "jaime lannister sends his regards"? isn't it funnier than anything littlefinger did or said about joffrey?

not saying he should win (kingslayers 1 and 2 are as expected), just that the ironborngirls seem very underrepresented.

#euron greyjoy #asha greyjoy #balon greyjoy #what is dead may never die

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gotgifsandmusings · 2 years

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Hi, been a fan since season 5 but was MIA during season 8 because life. I was wondering what you thought of Dany's descent as Queen of the Ashes? Do you think some of your earlier points i.e Hizdahr zo Sansa work in D&D's benefit unironically now (even though they have lost all credibility as writers)? Ignoring how it was butchered, of course.

Congratulations, you asked the very question that broke Julia and my collective brain and is the reason we never finished our S8 retrospectives, lol.

Because like...yes. This show had basically done a horrible job of distinguishing "good" vs. "bad" guys on the show in all ways other than marketing. It was just accepted that Cersei was the "most vile woman in Westeros," when we see the "heroes" do similarly awful things (e.g. Arya murdering the entire Frey male line, baking them into pies, and feeding them to Walder).

So enter Season 7/8 where it's I guess setting up Dany's descent (while also being an earnest love story for some reason), and we get this weird case of "it's only evil/questionable when Dany does war things." Tyrion can burn Stannis's fleet with wildfire, but Dany can't burn her enemies' soldiers with Drogon because...Tyrion is on a hill looking sad? Jon can execute a literal traumatized child who tried to kill him, but Dany can't execute the Tarlys who wouldn't have taken the black anyway?

It just becomes this crap pile of misogynistic implications, where it seems like our reasons we're supposed to be skeptical of Dany are because she does things unilaterally, and when women do that on the show it's bad. When men do it on the show, it's leadership. Then of course, her strafing to burn as many innocents in King's Landing was just comically stupid. We've SEEN Dany in power already...we saw her grapple with not being beloved by everyone in Meereen. We know what motivates her, and it's just not fitting that she'd suddenly want to kill all the innocents. Or that bells make her take things personally.

Really, what's sort of funny about this show is that we could have had a heel-turn for Sansa to be Queen of the Ashes, or for Jaime to be King of the Ashes, and because this show is so obsessed with everyone being motivated by revenge and having cool badass moments, there'd be equal seeding for any of these characters burning down King's Landing.

But no, the issue was Dany's..."liberation theology" (these guys are so, so stupid).

So like...yes? It does help retroactively sorta? But also no, it doesn't, because they don't get to have it both ways and argue her 'targ madness coin' just happened to land in S8, especially when Dany is arguably the character we've seen in a position of power the most, and understanding how she wields it.

This is getting rambly, so let me leave you with a snippet from one of our many failed attempts to write this retrospective (note it's a very rough draft):

"...After rewatching Season 8, the true point of Varys turning sides was hearing that Jon had a better claim to the throne. The Tarly executions in Season 7 kicked off his skepticism about Dany’s leadership qualities. However, in between those two events, the only beat we could point to was Dany being grumpy at a party. She did try to fire Tyrion a few times and Varys is a Carol Award-winning Tyrion-stan, but we never saw his reaction to that specifically. It had been Jorah that pleaded for Tyrion remaining her Hand this year. All we saw was Varys side-eyeing her sitting back in a chair at a party.

We couldn't even adequately tie Dany’s actions to similar actions on the parts of Tyrion and Jon and make a solid sexism case, because it just became this horrible circular discussion of which actions counted vs. not. The fact is, Varys was in Dany’s camp until he wasn’t. He had concerns, sure, but the turning point was a grumpy party! Maybe her UberEats delivered the wrong latte and she’s lactose intolerant!

Taking this to the macro level, we simply never saw Dany develop into a villain. The narrative decided she was a villain in Episode 4 of the final season, and then chided and insulted us for ever thinking she wasn’t. We could spend a separate 6,000 words arguing whether or not her actions of previous seasons could have been framed as villainous (remember how Kylie kept saying how Cersei and Dany were kind of the same in their actions?), but it’s not productive. The writers were in Dany’s camp until they weren’t.

[first she came for the slavers]

Ignoring the just horrific implications of how they evoked Niemöller here, this Tyrion quote is just baldly ridiculous. You (dear writers) cheered for her when she burned the Dothraki, and we know because of the framing and the music and the things characters said about her afterwards. Also, you wrote an entire plotline about how nailing the slavers to the crosses had unintended consequences that she had to reconcile with, and it was part of her development as a leader. But then you decided learning was wrong, or opening the fighting pits was wrong, or Tyrion had to convince the red priests to worship her to re-engage commerce? Or something??

It’s almost like there was no coherent planning and Dany didn’t have a series arc at all! She was the cool, badass Khaleesi lady, until she wasn’t. She was the person in charge of Meereen until Tyrion came. She was the revolutionary who loved the smallfolk and wanted to reduce suffering until she was the paranoid narcissist who didn’t get enough praise. She was a feminist icon until she was a cautionary tale about ambitious women. She was a Marxist reformer that wanted to break the wheel which had harmed so many until she was Horde Prime who sought people’s liberation through their deaths."

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istumpysk · 2 years

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ASOS: Epilogue

Please welcome our new POV, Merrett Frey.

The road up to Oldstones went twice around the hill before reaching the summit.

Oh god, not Oldstones!

+.+.+

Snow in autumn in the riverlands, it's unnatural, Merrett thought gloomily. It had not been much of a snow, true; just enough to blanket the ground for a night. Most of it had started melting away as soon as the sun came up. Still, Merrett took it for a bad omen.

Merrett Frey is prophetic.

+.+.+

Between rains, floods, fire, and war, they had lost two harvests and a good part of a third. An early winter would mean famine all across the riverlands. A great many people would go hungry, and some of them would starve. Merrett only hoped he wouldn't be one of them.

That's not the only place.

I wonder if food scarcity will be one of the central reasons Bran is elected. I mean yes, ending the ice threat will be paramount, but he's also ending winter quickly. It's crop time!

+.+.+

Merrett hated the woods, if truth be told, and he hated outlaws even more. "Outlaws stole my life," he had been known to complain when in his cups. He was too often in his cups, his father said, often and loudly. Too true, he thought ruefully. You needed some sort of distinction in the Twins, else they were liable to forget you were alive, but a reputation as the biggest drinker in the castle had done little to enhance his prospects, he'd found.

Merrett Frey is The Alcoholic Frey.

If all of them could have a little quirky trait like that, allowing me to easily identify them, I would really appreciate it.

+.+.+

I once hoped to be the greatest knight who ever couched a lance. The gods took that away from me.

Unreliable narrator Merrett Frey.

No. Just no.

+.+.+

Why shouldn't I have a cup of wine from time to time? It helps my headaches. Besides, my wife is a shrew, my father despises me, my children are worthless. What do I have to stay sober for?

Okay, I'm building a little bit of an early opinion on Merrett Frey.

+.+.+

Sometimes his headaches got so bad that it even hurt too much to weep. Then all he could do was rest on his bed in a dark room with a damp cloth over his eyes, and curse his luck and the nameless outlaw who had done this to him.

Merrett Frey is The Chronic Migraines Frey.

See, this is already more information than I care to retain.

+.+.+

He could no wise afford a headache now. If I bring Petyr back home safely, all my luck will change. He had the gold, all he needed to do was climb to the top of Oldstones, meet the bloody outlaws in the ruined castle, and make the exchange. A simple ransom.

There's a familiar name in back-to-back chapters.

+.+.+

His heart was thumping in his chest as if he were some green boy on his first campaign. As if this were the kingswood and it was the old Brotherhood I was going to face, not the lightning lord's sorry lot of brigands.

Does the Kingswood Brotherhood tell me anything about the Brotherhood Without Banners? Can someone spoil that for me, I don't want to put in work.

+.+.+

Black Walder was a man who took what he wanted, even his brother's wife. He'd had Edwyn's wife too, that was common knowledge, Fair Walda had been known to slip into his bed from time to time, and some even said he'd known the seventh Lady Frey a deal better than he should have. Small wonder he refused to marry. Why buy a cow when there were udders all around begging to be milked?

Today I learned the Frey line of succession goes:

Walder Frey -> Ser Stevron (dead) -> Ser Ryman (Ser Stevron's son) -> Edwyn (Ser Ryman's son) -> Black Walder (Ser Ryman's 2nd son) -> Petyr Pimple (Ser Ryman's 3rd son)

It seems to me a Frey civil war is brewing, and I should be paying close attention to Black Walder.

And after Ryman came his own sons, Edwyn and Black Walder, who were even worse. "Fortunately," Lame Lothar once said, "they hate each other even more than they hate us."

+.+.+

Lord Walder would soon turn two-and-ninety. His ears had started to go, his eyes were almost gone, and his gout was so bad that he had to be carried everywhere. He could not possibly last much longer, all his sons agreed. And when he goes, everything will change, and not for the better. His father was querulous and stubborn, with an iron will and a wasp's tongue, but he did believe in taking care of his own. All of his own, even the ones who had displeased and disappointed him. Even the ones whose names he can't remember. Once he was gone, though . . .

Dance of Towers!

+.+.+

Merrett wasn't certain that was fortunate at all, and for that matter Lothar himself might be more dangerous than either of them [Edwyn, Black Walder]. Lord Walder had ordered the slaughter of the Starks at Roslin's wedding, but it had been Lame Lothar who had plotted it out with Roose Bolton, all the way down to which songs would be played. Lothar was a very amusing fellow to get drunk with, but Merrett would never be so foolish as to turn his back on him.

Well then, I look forward to the end of his story.

Will Lame Lothar be another Frey faction?

+.+.+

In the Twins, you learned early that only full blood siblings could be trusted, and them not very far.

So, the opposite of House Stark.

+.+.+

It was like to be every son for himself when the old man died, and every daughter as well.

Oh okay, that's actually what he's going for. House Stark foils. I get it. I'm following. I'm slow, but I'm following.

+.+.+

The gods gave me no gift but birth, and they stinted me there. What good was it to be the son of a rich and powerful House if you were the ninth son? When you took grandsons and great-grandsons into account, Merrett stood a better chance of being chosen High Septon than he did of inheriting the Twins.

GUYS? WHAT IS THAT?

+.+.+

When old Lord Sumner had made him a squire, everyone had assumed he would be Ser Merrett in no more than a few years, but the outlaws of the Kingswood Brotherhood had pissed on those plans. While his fellow squire Jaime Lannister was covering himself in glory, Merrett had first caught the pox from a camp follower, then managed to get captured by a woman, the one called the White Fawn. Lord Sumner had ransomed him back from the outlaws, but in the very next fight he'd been felled by a blow from a mace that had broken his helm and left him insensible for a fortnight. Everyone gave him up for dead, they told him later.

White Fawn? Alrighty.

Merrett Frey is The Concussed Frey. Please just kill him, so I don't have to learn any more.

Speaking of unreliable narrators, Merrett Frey spends the majority of this chapter doing his best Tyrion Lannister impression, and feeling mighty sorry for himself.

I have no luck, he thought bitterly. I have never had any bloody luck.

In AFFC, we'll learn he was an asshole.

"We were squires together once, at Crakehall." He would not go so far as to claim they had been friends. When Jaime had arrived, Merrett Frey had been the castle bully, lording it over all the younger boys. Then he tried to bully me. "He was . . . very strong." It was the only praise that came to mind. Merrett had been slow and clumsy and stupid, but he was strong. - Jaime IV, AFFC

+.+.+

The final humiliation had been delivered with a smile, when Lame Lothar had summoned him to discuss his role in Roslin's wedding. "We must each play our part, according to our gifts," his half-brother told him. "You shall have one task and one task only, Merrett, but I believe you are well suited to it. I want you to see to it that Greatjon Umber is so bloody drunk that he can hardly stand, let alone fight."

And even that I failed at. He'd cozened the huge northman into drinking enough wine to kill any three normal men, yet after Roslin had been bedded the Greatjon still managed to snatch the sword of the first man to accost him and break his arm in the snatching. It had taken eight of them to get him into chains, and the effort had left two men wounded, one dead, and poor old Ser Leslyn Haigh short half an ear. When he couldn't fight with his hands any longer, Umber had fought with his teeth.

I'm a simp for Greatjon and all his giant northern sons.

+.+.+

The curtain wall of Oldstones had once encircled the brow of the hill like the crown on a king's head.

Or like a crown in a dead woman's hands.

+.+.+

Merrett found himself shivering, despite his cloak.

Merrett buddy, that's a dangerous word.

+.+.+

I could just get back on my horse, ride to Oldtown, and drink the gold away. No good ever came from dealing with outlaws. That vile little bitch Wenda had burned a fawn into the cheek of his arse while she had him captive.

The Kingswood Brotherhood had a woman who branded people? Wenda the White Fawn? Is that something?

I don't know what's going on. White Flag. I'm done with this book. Let me leave.

+.+.+

A man in patched, faded greens was sitting crosslegged atop a weathered stone sepulcher, fingering the strings of a woodharp. The music was soft and sad. Merrett knew the song. High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts . . .

"Get off there," Merrett said. "You're sitting on a king."

We're staying on theme! I seem to recall a contentious conversation happening at this stone sepulcher, regarding inheritance and succession.

I also remember somebody getting on that stone.

"Jon would never harm a son of mine."

"No more than Theon Greyjoy would harm Bran or Rickon?"

Grey Wind leapt up atop King Tristifer's crypt, his teeth bared. Robb's own face was cold. - Catelyn V, ASOS

Was that a bad omen? I didn't read it like that, but maybe.

+.+.+

When he turned, they were all around him; an ill-favored gaggle of leathery old men and smooth-cheeked lads younger than Petyr Pimple, the lot of them clad in roughspun rags, boiled leather, and bits of dead men's armor. There was one woman with them, bundled up in a hooded cloak three times too big for her.

Jenny?

+.+.+

"Where's our gold?"

"In my saddlebag. A hundred golden dragons." Merrett cleared his throat. "You'll get it when I see that Petyr—"

You're telling me the price for Petyr Pimple is the same price the crown set for Sansa Stark?

That's ridiculous. I'm sorry, I can't let this go.

+.+.+

"You have your gold," he said. "Give me my nephew, and I'll be gone." Petyr was actually more a great half-nephew, but there was no need to go into that.

Can someone please confirm that's not about anyone else in the story?

+.+.+

Petyr Pimple was hanging from the limb of an oak, a noose tight around his long thin neck. His eyes bulged from a black face, staring down at Merrett accusingly.

Dead Petyrs in back-to-back chapters!

Or at least the promise of dead Petyrs.

+.+.+

An aurochs was thundering through Merrett's head. Mother have mercy, he thought.

She's all out of that.

+.+.+

The one-eyed outlaw came forward with a long coil of hempen rope. He looped one end around Merrett's neck, pulled it tight, and tied a hard knot under his ear. The other end he threw over the limb of the oak. The big man in the yellow cloak caught it.

"What are you doing?" Merrett knew how stupid that sounded, but he could not believe what was happening, even then. "You'd never dare hang a Frey."

Yellow cloak laughed. "That other one, the pimply boy, he said the same thing."

He doesn't mean it. He cannot mean it. "My father will pay you. I'm worth a good ransom, more than Petyr, twice as much."

Farewell Concussed, Alcoholic, Chronic Migraines Frey.

Merrett Frey is kind of a nobody, but she did manage to get someone a lot higher in the line of succession.

I'm still hopeless with all things Frey, but the least I can do is remember the names Walder -> Ser Ryman -> Edwyn -> Black Walder.

And Lothar. I won't forget Lame Lothar.

+.+.+

"Well, as it happens, we're looking for a dog that ran away."

"A dog?" Merrett was lost. "What kind of dog?"

"He answers to the name Sandor Clegane. Thoros says he was making for the Twins. We found the ferrymen who took him across the Trident, and the poor sod he robbed on the kingsroad. Did you see him at the wedding, perchance?"

[...]

"He would have had a child with him," said the singer. "A skinny girl, about ten. Or perhaps a boy the same age."

The good news is, if he ever stops digging holes (he won't), he'll have this creature hunting him.

Gosh, I forgot we're straight up told she's looking for Arya. Jon and Sansa aren't the only two people destined to cross paths.

+.+.+

"Please." The last of Merrett's courage was running down his leg.

Chett!

+.+.+

"I've done you no harm. I brought the gold, the way you said. I answered your question. I have children."

"That Young Wolf never will," said the one-eyed outlaw.

Merrett could hardly think for the pounding in his head.

Fine, I'm starting to feel bad for him.

The drums were pounding, pounding, pounding, and her head with them. - Catelyn VII, ASOS

A dance was the last thing she needed, the way her head was throbbing. - Catelyn VII, ASOS

Haha, just kidding!

+.+.+

"Not murder." His voice was shrill. "It was vengeance, we had a right to our vengeance. It was war. Aegon, we called him Jinglebell, a poor lackwit never hurt anyone, Lady Stark cut his throat. We lost half a hundred men in the camps. Ser Garse Goodbrook, Kyra's husband, and Ser Tytos, Jared's son . . . someone smashed his head in with an axe . . . Stark's direwolf killed four of our wolfhounds and tore the kennelmaster's arm off his shoulder, even after we'd filled him full of quarrels . . ."

"So you sewed his head on Robb Stark's neck after both o' them were dead," said yellow cloak.

I hate that she knows that happened. :(

+.+.+

"They say Lord Beric always gives a man a trial, that he won't kill a man unless something's proved against him. You can't prove anything against me. The Red Wedding was my father's work, and Ryman's and Lord Bolton's. Lothar rigged the tents to collapse and put the crossbowmen in the gallery with the musicians, Bastard Walder led the attack on the camps . . . they're the ones you want, not me, I only drank some wine . . . you have no witness."

Don't give her a list! Don't give her names!

Does she say a prayer every night?

+.+.+

"As it happens, you're wrong there." The singer turned to the hooded woman. "Milady?"

The outlaws parted as she came forward, saying no word. When she lowered her hood, something tightened inside Merrett's chest, and for a moment he could not breathe. No. No, I saw her die. She was dead for a day and night before they stripped her naked and threw her body in the river. Raymund opened her throat from ear to ear. She was dead.

Chett run, it's a fire wight!

+.+.+

Her cloak and collar hid the gash his brother's blade had made, but her face was even worse than he remembered. The flesh had gone pudding soft in the water and turned the color of curdled milk. Half her hair was gone and the rest had turned as white and brittle as a crone's. Beneath her ravaged scalp, her face was shredded skin and black blood where she had raked herself with her nails. But her eyes were the most terrible thing. Her eyes saw him, and they hated.

My heart weeps for the Stark child that has to come face-to-face with this.

This... death.

+.+.+

"She don't speak," said the big man in the yellow cloak. "You bloody bastards cut her throat too deep for that. But she remembers." He turned to the dead woman and said, "What do you say, m'lady? Was he part of it?"

Lady Catelyn's eyes never left him. She nodded.

Merrett Frey opened his mouth to plead, but the noose choked off his words. His feet left the ground, the rope cutting deep into the soft flesh beneath his chin. Up into the air he jerked, kicking and twisting, up and up and up.

One thing I'm not going to do is tell you which Freys deserve to live, and which Freys deserve to die.

Because I can't tell them apart.

Final thoughts:

Friends,

WE DID IT!

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #asos #epilogue

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west1rosi · 7 months

Text

NEW HIGHLIGHTED MUSES PART TWO:

Lady Myrmadora Haen of Lys - Semi Canon. Myrmadora is the daughter of a Lysani Magister and her father's ambassador during her stay in Westeros. She is known for her rather scandalous clothes and open opinions about the Faith of the Seven. Like most Lysani Houses, she is descendant of the Valyrians who used Lys as a vacation location and speaks High Valyrian. Myrmadora has two verses, one during the dance and another during the main storyline. During the dance, Myrmadora remains impartial during the dance, although she prefers a woman in power. During the main storyline, Myrmadora is in Lys when Daenerys Targaryen begins to release the free cities.

Daemon Sand - Canon. The Bastard of Godsgrace. Damon is a knight and one of Dorne's finest swords. Close in age to Princess Arianne, he asked Doran for her hand but was rejected by the ruling Prince. Daemon was part of the entourage that accompanied Prince Oberyn Martell to King's Landing to take his seat in the Council. He assisted Oberyn during the combat with The Mountain. He has pledged himself to Arianne as one of her knights and worked during the Queenmaker Conspiracy to place Myrcella on the throne.

Ellyna Reyne - OC. Surviving daughter of House Reyne, her mother died in childbirth while in hiding up North with her family, the Cassels. Ellyna has always passed as part of the Cassel household and when the war broke through, she has been gathering support for her to reclaim her family's ancestral home. Due to her similar struggles, Ellyna is in favor of Daenerys Targaryen reclaiming the throne and she pledges her alliance to the North when they claim their independence.

Wylla Manderly - Canon. Is the second daughter of Ser Wylis Manderly and Leona Woolfield. As part of the terms of White Harbor being pardoned and returning to the king's peace of Tommen I Baratheon, Wylla is betrothed to Little Walder Frey, a squire of Ramsay Bolton. Wylla goes on to tell of the promises of loyalty House Manderly made to House Stark when they were exiled from the Reach centuries ago. Finally, her mother, Lady Leona, has to drag her from the hall.After faking the execution of Davos and releasing him from imprisonment in the Wolf's Den, the scheming Wyman reveals his true feelings about the Freys and calls Wylla brave.

Marlon Manderly - Canon. Marlon Manderly is a knight of House Manderly and cousin to the head of the house, Lord Wyman Manderly. He is the commander of the garrison at the New Castle in White Harbor. The frank Ser Marlon can be haughty and disdainful. His helm is modeled after the head of the Merling King, having a crown of mother-of-pearl and a beard of jet and jade. Marlon escorts Lord Davos Seaworth, an envoy of Stannis Baratheon, to the Merman's Court in the New Castle. Standing by the right hand of Lord Wyman Manderly, Marlon curtly questions Davos about Stannis's prospects. Wyman publicly orders his cousin to have Davos taken to the Wolf's Den and executed. The Manderlys secretly spare Davos, however.

Asher Forrester. Video Game Canon. Adapted to the show. The secondborn son of Lord Gregor Forrester and Lady Elissa Forrester. Much quicker to anger than his older brother, Asher's relationship with his father became strained and one too many mistakes resulted in his exile. His uncle, Malcolm, tracks him down in Yunkai and persuades him that House Forrester and Ironrath need him to assure their survival. He tries to father support from Daenerys Targaryen, even aiding at the release of Yunkai and Mereen but eventually sails home to get his family back and reclaim his ancestral home. Once up Norther, Asher is a supporter of Jon Snow and is among the lords proclaiming him King in the North.

#⸻ . ✷ ❛ artworks ❜ 〉mutuals can interact .#⸻ . ✷ ❛ out of character ❜ 〉the dead are coming .

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waitingforwinterwinds · 1 year

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A Clash of Kings - 35 BRAN V (pages 469-476)

Bran realises Jojen's party trick is actually legit, and tries to warn people about the oncoming flood. Tries, being the operative word.

Maester Luwin sent Alebelly away and closed his door. "My lords," he said gravely, "we have had a message from His Grace, with both good news and ill. He has wona great victory in the west, shattering a Lannister army at a place called Oxcross, and has taken several castles as well. He writes us from Ashemark, formerly the stronghold of House Marbrand." ... "Sadly, no victory is without cost." Maester Luwin turned to the Walders. "My lords, your uncle Ser Stevron Frey was among those who lost their lives at Oxcross. He took a wound in the battle, Robb writes. It was not thought to be serious, but three days later he died in his tent, asleep." ... Bran got a sick feeling in his belly. They like the taste of this dish better than I do.

Yep, straight into Jojen's prophecy and we see how metaphorical it was. (I was right, yay!) I do like that this series has that solid set symbolism in place, largely to do with the house sigils, that means the prophetic stuff makes more sense, has a definitive answer, but there's still the leeway in it that Jojen's prophecies are different to Mel's prophecies are different to ancient prophecies and so on.

"I dreamed the sea was lapping all around Winterfell. I saw black waves crashing against the gates and towers, and then the salt water came flowing over the walls and filled the castle. Drowned men were floating in the yard. When I first dreamed the dream, back at Greywater, I did not know their faces, but now I do. That Alebelly is one, the guard who called our names at the feast. Your septon's another. Your smith as well." "Mikken?" Bran was as confused as he was dismayed. "But the sea is hundreds and hundreds of leagues away, and Winterfell's walls are so high the water couldn't get in even if it did come."

No, come on Bran, we have to work the metaphor. It wasn't literal food, it was information, it's not the literal sea, it's a threat that comes from the sea and is strongly linked with it. It's not a flood, it's the walls of Winterfell being breached by the enemy in some manner.

Also, if you notice: Jojen says 'black waves' which, yes his vision is at night, but I would like to just point out, the Greyjoy sigil is a golden kraken on a black field, or, being an ocean creature, a black sea? (This is a lot easier to work out when I already have the whole answer, but that there is that internal logic to follow, is still fun... oh my gosh, you know who would probably have been really good at interpreting the metaphor dreams if she tried? Sansa. the big nerd, it has cropped up several times, mostly in Arya's chapters iirc, "saw a sigil, no clue who it is. Sansa would know, she's into that stuff.")

"Unless you open your eye." He put two fingers together and poked Bran in the forehead, hard. When he raised his hand to the spot, Bran felt only unbroken skin. There way no eye, not even a closed one. "How can I open it if it's not there?" "You will never find it with your fingers, Bran. You must search with your heart."

Don't do it, don't do it, don't don't do-

🎶Close your eyes, 🦋 and open your heart💖 💖Believe in yourself, 🎶cause that's how it starts🦋 🦋Dreams will come true,💖 just wait and see🎶 🎶Cause the magic's in you, 🦋 and the magic's in meee 💖

...ahem, moving on.

Oh shit! Lady Hornwood! She deserved better. (the real name of this series.)

The bastard himself was dead, -

Sadly, no. (Fake News!)

"The things that I see in my green dreams can't be changed."

Well, yeah, but that's because you typically lack the context to understand fully what it is you're being forewarned about, and the power, resources, and faith/co-operation from the people around you to affect meaningful change.

I would be interested to know the timeline of Jojen's dreams, when does he get them, is it after the choices that will lead to that point have been made? Actively in the waking world made?

Cause like on the one hand: "all my choices have lead me here" what you chose is already chosen based on the person you are, you just haven't gotten to the choice yet, so the world shaped you into someone who was always going to make *that* choice therefore the choice was always made so this was always the outcome

But on the other hand: Alice from Twilight. Her visions don't occur until the choice that causes the consequences has been made, actively in real time, they're reactive.

And then on the other other hand: Battlestar Galactica Theory, "all this has happened before, and all this will happen again." Jojen's not seeing the future, they're trapped in a story loop that ends and restarts over millennia, different actors in the same few roles retelling the same story with out knowing, only set dressing differences, Jojen's seeing the past, the story beats that happen over and over and over.

where were we? Ah, yes. No one listens to the boys who see stuff without context.

"I dreamed of the man who came today, the one they call Reek. You and your brother lay dead at his feet, and he was skinning off your faces with a long red blade."

And we know what this one's about... hey, just real quick, in the House of Black and White, do they skin faces off with a long red knife? I just think that would be a fun tie back in to the whole identity and the dead vibes going on.

I can't remember if the face skinning was a show invention, or if it had a book basis.

"It will not matter. The dream was green, Bran, and the green dreams do not lie."

I feel like Jojen isn't even trying to understand his dreams, or caring that they are clearly a metaphor, but I suppose he's probably very tired of it all. Might explain why he's so blase about dying, even aside from knowing his death day.

Oh, just btw, tomorrow's our "half way through the physical book" cheat/rest day.

#a clash of kings #a song of ice and fire #bran stark #a chapter a day reading #acok #asoiaf

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sersumdeorsum · 2 years

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name: viserys ‘vis’ targaryen age: 19-24 ( verse dependent ) pronouns: he/him sexuality: bisexual ( in some verses, closeted ) fandom: asoiaf / got fc: harry lloyd notes: heavily headcanon based, canon divergent.

Viserys of the House Targaryen, the Third of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and the Protector of the Realm was declared King on Dragonstone after his father's death. Since then, he has done what it takes to protect himself, and his sister, but the most important thing is TAKING BACK HIS THRONE. Due to what he was willing to do to get back home and take his throne from the usurper, a nickname spread through the Free Cities, and back to the Seven Kingdoms. They call him THE BEGGAR KING, a nickname that the Targaryen King despises. but he will show them. He will show them all.

MAIN VERSE.

Viserys Targaryen is the Beggar King still searching for this throne, going door to door for a place to sleep and for food in his belly. This could be with Daenerys, another sibling, or without. If it is without, it is after the Dothraki gave him his golden crown and Daenerys left him, thinking he was dead. He is a true dragon, and fire cannot KILL a dragon. The foolish girl should have known that.

He has always done whatever it takes to make sure they had somewhere to stay and food in his belly. His sister likely does not know the extent to which; she believes him selfish for having sold her to the Dothraki but the truth was he sold himself every night it took after the money from their mothers crown ran out. Of course, it’s the one thing that’s never discussed through the Free Cities, or the Seven Kingdoms.

People have their reputations to protect.

Further down the line, Viserys gets his own dragons, and now suddenly he is a match for his sister, and he has a way of taking back his kingdom.

ALT VERSE.

The usurpers have been on the throne for so long, it has gotten to the point where Viserys does not care which Targaryen sibling is on the throne, even the mutt Jon Snow. They need their throne back, and as long as they continue the Targaryen line the way they have always done, it doesn’t matter to him which one gets there. He knows they will get there faster if they just work together.

This could be him supporting Daenerys, or Rhaegar, or any other family member, oc or canon !

LITTLE PRINCE.

The Targaryen’s never fell. They won their battles and their wars and sit firmly on the throne, the entire family still alive and well. However, Aerys’ paranoia only grows, and Viserys is desperate for even an inch of freedom. He sneaks out when he can, disguising himself and going to local taverns, drinking himself drunk and stumbling home after a night of fun. He does not have to worry about the throne, for it will not be his. It is Rhaegar’s, then Rhaegar’s sons. He can just enjoy being a prince.

MODERN.

Viserys learned his father was a serial killer and arsonist when he was fifteen. Aerys knew that he was going to be caught, that the house would be searched and he needed to get rid of the evidence. In a mad rage of paranoia, he set fire to the family home. A neighbour managed to rescue Viserys and Daenerys, but the rest of the family perished.

( or not if you have a sibling / family member you want to use in this verse with Viserys, we can work something out ! )

After being in a children’s home for two years, staff unable to find a family wanting two children, they were finally fostered by Walder Frey and his family. They ignored the abuse Walder bestowed upon them. All of his children were homeschooled, including the Targaryen siblings, so they never left the house. No one knew of the abuse, or if they did they ignored it too. Viserys took most of it, to protect his sister. Walder had started abusing them around three months in. At six months in, when Viserys turned seventeen, Walder started making money off of him by renting him out to his ‘ friends ’. These friends were allowed to do anything they wanted, as long as they didn’t cause injuries that resulted in a hospital trip. Hospitals asked too many questions. Viserys did nothing. He allowed the abuse, though oftentimes he didn’t have much time. It took him some time to realise, but Walder was drugging his food, and their foster fathers friends often brought him alcohol. It took Daenerys attempting suicide to get them out of that house. He had insisted on visiting his sister in the hospital, so Walder let him. They were left alone for a moment, and that’s all Viserys needed. He took Daenerys and ran, ran from Walder’s grasp and abuse and never looked back.

#bio. viserys targaryen #verses. viserys targaryen #// i used to have a single muse indie for him so i have a lot of shit already figured out #bio #verses #viserys targaryen #drugs tw #abuse tw #arson tw #murder tw

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rainhadaenerys · 3 years

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Daenerys endgame speculation - born to make the world anew

For Daenerys Month 2021 - Day 6: Endgame Speculation

People usually criticize the "break the wheel" quote from the show, and with good reason, since they never explained what that meant, and it was ultimately just added to the show to sound cool and later to vilify show!Dany and her revolutionary beliefs. But there are a few things in the books that make me wonder if Dany could get at least some kind of revolutionary beliefs or desire to make changes in Westeros once she arrives there.

First, let’s look at this quote by Tyrion:

Tyrion did not dispute him. The most insidious thing about bondage was how easy it was to grow accustomed to it. The life of most slaves was not all that different from the life of a serving man at Casterly Rock, it seemed to him. True, some slaveowners and their overseers were brutal and cruel, but the same was true of some Westerosi lords and their stewards and bailiffs. Most of the Yunkai'i treated their chattels decently enough, so long as they did their jobs and caused no trouble … and this old man in his rusted collar, with his fierce loyalty to Lord Wobblecheeks, his owner, was not at all atypical. – Tyrion XI ADWD

Here we have Tyrion talking about how similar the situations are between slavery and the Westerosi feudal system. And it’s not just with Tyrion that we can observe this. We have people being forced into the Night's Watch for minor crimes, and forced to serve for life. We have Arya in Harrenhall. She can’t leave Harrenhall if she wants. She is beaten and has to work tirelessly. Is that all that different from slavery?

And we can see in several other POVs in ASOIAF how little the lives of the smallfolk mean to many lords:

Only that was Winterfell, a world away, and now everything was changed. This was the first time they had supped with the men since arriving in King's Landing. Arya hated it. She hated the sounds of their voices now, the way they laughed, the stories they told. They'd been her friends, she'd felt safe around them, but now she knew that was a lie. They'd let the queen kill Lady, that was horrible enough, but then the Hound found Mycah. Jeyne Poole had told Arya that he'd cut him up in so many pieces that they'd given him back to the butcher in a bag, and at first the poor man had thought it was a pig they'd slaughtered. And no one had raised a voice or drawn a blade or anything, not Harwin who always talked so bold, or Alyn who was going to be a knight, or Jory who was captain of the guard. Not even her father. - Arya II AGOT

In Westeros, kings, queens and lords do as they please with peasants, because it’s within their rights. Because they can. Even Ned, who certainly didn’t approve of this, didn’t raise his voice against this injustice. Because Joffrey was a prince, and Mycah was just a butcher’s boy.

I see a lot of discussion about how, in the grand scheme of things, ASOIAF is about the fight of the living against the dead, and politics don’t matter (though maybe I’m oversimplifying this argument). But I do think that the politics matter. It’s true that the Others represent a threat that is above petty conflicts and strifes for power and wealth. But they also represent something else, as GRRM said:

People say I was influenced by Robert Frost’s poem, and of course I was, I mean... Fire is love, fire is passion, fire is sexual ardor and all of these things. Ice is betrayal, ice is revenge, ice is… you know, that kind of cold inhumanity and all that stuff is being played out in the books.

The cold is inhumanity. It’s not just necessary to rise above petty conflicts and defeat the ice monsters. It’s also necessary to defeat the human monsters. Monsters are not just the Others, but people like Tywin Lannister, Roose Bolton and Walder Frey. And these monsters enable the actions of other human monsters like Gregor Clegane, Ramsey Bolton, Tickler and Polliver. And it’s not enough to have a good lord, because there’s no guarantee that his son will be good as well. The problem is systemic. ASOIAF spends a lot of time exploring how awful Westerosi feudal system is. Given the time spent on this, it would make sense if, at the end of the story, there were political changes in Westeros, something that will give us hope that Westeros is changing for the better, that the cold of inhumanity is starting to be defeated.

But what does Dany has to do with all of this? Well, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that GRRM compares the feudal system to slavery, the very thing that Dany is fighting against. In my opinion, this is a direct link to Dany. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that when Dany sees the situation of the smallfolk of Westeros, she’ll be moved to do something, just like she was moved by the suffering of the slaves. This could be one indication that Dany could survive to enact change.

Another point that makes me believe this is just how similar Dany’s arc is to her ancestor, Aegon the Unlikely. This is what’s said about Egg in TWOIAF:

Though beloved by the smallfolk, King Aegon made many enemies amongst the lords of the realm, whose powers he wished to curtail. He enacted numerous reforms and granted rights and protections to the commons that they had never known before, but each of these measures provoked fierce opposition and sometimes open defiance amongst the lords. The most outspoken of his foes went so far as to denounce Aegon V as a "bloodyhanded tyrant intent on depriving us of our gods-given rights and liberties."

It was well-known that the resistance against him taxed Aegon's patience—especially as the compromises a king must make to rule well often left his greatest hopes receding further and further into the future. As one defiance followed another, His Grace found himself forced to bow to the recalcitrant lords more often than he wished. A student of history and lover of books, Aegon V was oft heard to say that had he only had dragons, as the first Aegon had, he could have remade the realm anew, with peace and prosperity and justice for all. - TWOIAF

To me Egg’s arc seems very similar to Dany’s. She tries to make changes and end slavery, but is forced to compromise for the sake of peace. She starts getting more and more unsatisfied with said peace, because peace meant allowing many injustices to continue: meant accepting that slavery would continue outside Meereen, peace meant giving indemnity to slavers. She sees that she’s completely unable to make her reforms through compromise, and decides for a path of “fire and blood”. Because of this, it’s often said that Dany is going down a “dark path”. But what good is peace if thousands of people will continue to be enslaved, killed, mutilated, raped and treated like property? This arc, in my opinion, is supposed to make Dany reflect on how both war and compromise have good sides and bad sides, how none is ideal. Thanks to her experience, Dany will never be trapped by compromises that force her to give up on her reforms, but I also think she will find a middle ground between compromise and force. I think that in the end, Dany’s experiences with trying to make reforms are what’s necessary to “remaking the realm anew”, as Egg wanted to do but never could.

We also have Queen Alysanne’s wish for her daughter Daenerys to be queen, and later she was in favor of Rhaenys, but neither of them would become queen. At least to me, it doesn't make sense for GRRM to call attention to both of these cases, only to have Dany die and never address the idea of a woman ruling Westeros in the future (I guess a woman could end up ruling one of the regions of Westeros, but I don't think that's the same as a woman ruling all of Westeros and sitting on the Iron Throne, which was what was always emphasized in the books). That could be a change Dany could bring as well, changing the precedent against women.

Lastly, we have Benerro’s words:

Haldon nodded. "Benerro has sent forth the word from Volantis. Her coming is the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy. From smoke and salt was she born to make the world anew. She is Azor Ahai returned … and her triumph over darkness will bring a summer that will never end … death itself will bend its knee, and all those who die fighting in her cause shall be reborn …" - Tyrion VI ADWD

First, it's interesting to note that the wording here is similar to Aegon V talking about "remaking the realm anew". And while it’s true that this could just refer to Dany’s crusade against slavery, I tend to think that if refers to Daenerys endgame, because her story is all about learning how to rule while trying to change the status quo. ASOIAF constantly brings attention to all these injustices, and all of them seem to be connected to Dany. Tyrion compares the smallfolk to slaves, Egg’s attempts at reforms are very similar to Dany’s story, and Queen Alysanne wanted her daughter Daenerys to inherit. Maybe the bitter part of the ending is that none of these issues will be addressed, and nothing will change, and the sweet part is that humanity survived. But with all of this set up, it would make sense for Dany to survive to remake the world and for these issues to be addressed.

#danymonth2021 #daenerys targaryen #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #asoiaf speculation #let dany live #i had this written years ago before even the ending of the show #i guess many people might think this is unlikely now that we know about king bran but to me this still makes sense #even if the changes dany brings happen before the endgame #she should make at least some changes in westeros or i don't see the point of all this set up #or the point of her arc in slaver's bay #my meta

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