I hope he falls and shames himself, she thought bitterly. I hope Ser Balon kills him.
But he did not seem to know what to do with the shield as he urged his horse forward, and Ser Balon's point struck the blazon square. Morros dropped his lance, fought for balance, and lost. One foot caught in a stirrup as he fell, and the runaway charger dragged the youth to the end of the lists, head bouncing against the ground. Joff hooted derision. Sansa was appalled, wondering if the gods had heard her vengeful prayer.
Is it true? she wondered. Would the gods be so cruel? Her mother was one of Joffrey's enemies now, her brother Robb another. Her father had died by the king's command. Must Robb and her lady mother die next?
Harrenhal was cursed, everyone knew that, and the Lannisters did not even hold it at present. Besides, the lords of the Trident were sworn to Riverrun and House Tully, and to the King in the North; they would never accept Littlefinger as their liege. Unless they are made to. Unless my brother and my uncle and my grandfather are all cast down and killed. The thought made Sansa anxious, but she told herself she was being silly. Robb has beaten them every time. He'll beat Lord Baelish too, if he must.
A man in dark armor and a pale pink cloak spotted with blood stepped up to Robb. "Jaime Lannister sends his regards." He thrust his longsword through her son's heart, and twisted.
Then the steel was at her throat, and its bite was red and cold.
Not that I would trust it. Gorghan of Old Ghis once wrote that a prophecy is like a treacherous woman. She takes your member in her mouth, and you moan with the pleasure of it and think, how sweet, how fine, how good this is . . . and then her teeth snap shut and your moans turn to screams. That is the nature of prophecy, said Gorghan. Prophecy will bite your prick off every time." He chewed a bit. "Still . . ."
That was such a sweet dream, Sansa thought drowsily. She had been back in Winterfell, running through the godswood with her Lady. Her father had been there, and her brothers, all of them warm and safe. If only dreaming could make it so...
"Warg. Shapechanger. Beastling. That is what they will call you, if they should ever hear of your wolf dreams."
"Some are, some aren't." Osha poured pale red firemilk into a long gash. Luwin gasped. "The children of the forest could tell you a thing or two about dreaming."
Sansa with her dreams and Arya with her bruises,
It would have been unkind to say so, however, so Sansa took a sip of milk and changed the subject. "I had a dream that Joffrey would be the one to take the white hart," she said. It had been more of a wish, actually, but it sounded better to call it a dream. Everyone knew that dreams were prophetic.
They found the white hart, it seems … or rather, what remained of it. Some wolves found it first, and left His Grace scarcely more than a hoof and a horn.
Sansa sat up. "Lady," she whispered. For a moment it was as if the direwolf was there in the room, looking at her with those golden eyes, sad and knowing. She had been dreaming, she realized. Lady was with her, and they were running together, and … and … trying to remember was like trying to catch the rain with her fingers. The dream faded, and Lady was dead again.
Look, I may be going mad or there could be a reason as to why George makes such a link between dreaming, Sansa's connection to Lady, her innate knowledge of a few things and prophecy whilst also specifying that Sansa is still a warg. I may be able to come up with a more cohesive meta later.
i am that kind of guy that whenever i see richard madden i involuntarily say, ‘the king in the north’, and i’m not even sorry
Epilepsy Awareness Month: 30 Days of Representation
Robert “Sweetrobin” Arryn from A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones has epilepsy.
Theon: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends.
Robb: ... Your what?
Theon: My friends.
Sansa: Is he saying “friends”?
Arya: I think he is being sarcastic.
Jon: No, no, no, this is delirium, he has cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Theon! All of your friends are in this room.
Theon: I have other friends! You asked me to make new friends, I made new friends! It was a task. I complete tasks.
The second Dance of Dragons does not have to mean Dany's invasion.
....The in-show!Dornish Plot doesn’t happen, Tommen still dies, and Myrcella is named Queen of Westeros as her little brother’s only heir.
(Because...I love the idea of Myrcella as Queen if at least for a little while)
(I’m considering making a few one shots that go along with this idea. Anyone interested???)
Myrcella of the House Baratheon, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm of Westeros
Her reign began after the tragic death of her younger brother, King Tommen, and the tragedy that happened to the Sept of Baelor at the hands of her own Queen Mother. Crowned the morning after Tommen’s death, the Young Queen acted quickly to right the wrongs of her family.
Beautiful with none of her mother’s nature, Myrcella was brave and highly intelligent. Having been taught by her Septa to be a Lady and by Prince Doran to be a ruler, she had a sense of justice that could rival her Uncle Stannis with a hint of cunning that could stand toe to toe with her Uncle Tyrion and, possibly, even her Grandfather Tywin if given some time to develop her mind a little further.
With Her Prince Consort, Trystane Martell, at her side, Queen Myrcella finally began to put to right the crimes of her family throughout the War of the Five Kings.
Firstly, she reinstated Edmure Tully as Lord of Riverrun and intrusted her uncle, Jaime Lannister, to ensure Edmure’s safe return to the castle as well as his wife, Lady Roslin.
And her mother, Cersei Lannister, was sentenced to death for all the crimes she had done to the realm (from the attack on Brandon Stark that left him crippled, the hurt that was dealt onto Sansa Stark, the treason of falsely having Ned Stark arrested that led to his death, and - of course - the Sept of Baelor). Anyone connected to her mother (like Qybern) were put to the sword as well.
Her small council included educated women her mother would have been intimated and jealous of - including, Lady Olenna and Ellaria Sand.
No matter how long her reign was, Myrcella would rule with a gentle strength that gained her love and support from the small folk and Lords of Westeros alike.
it’s funny to me how after I finished ASOIAF I got attached to so many minor characters (like satin, jeyne p, barbrey, aeron)… during the actual reading they didn’t do much for me, but now????? IM OBSESSED
Maybe this should’ve been posted on the targ/non-targ couples day, but it’s not really AEGON TARGARYEN in this picture. It’s Egg. with a certain young lady from Raventree Hall who might’ve gotten into the habit of sneaking into the stables to enjoy the company of ser Duncan’s handsome young squire (I’m headcanoning that Dunk and Egg will serve at Raventree Hall at some point).
Acrylic on canvas
Princess Arya of Houses Stark and Targaryen, wife of Aemon 'Jon' Targaryen, Prince of Summerhall
ASOIAF & Lolita mashup
Aegon x JonCon
"I want revenge. You will help me, won't you?"
This is what it’s like in this fandom. Enjoy this blurry meme.
sent me this or that with fandom stuff
(characters, ships, headcanons etc…)
The Sisters in the North by Cris Urdiales
Old Nan deserves to kiss Meryn Trant yikes
ao3 and ffn
She Just Wanted To Be Free
The third, fourth, and fifth time she wished to run had both been during the same fortnight.
Trying to keep his promise of giving her adventures, Brandon had convinced their father to let her join him and Ben to Lord Whent’s tourney at Harrenhal. She had been rather excited before her father had taken her aside and told her they were meeting Robert and Ned on the road and she was to be on her best behavior.
Before meeting him, Lyanna had expected Robert to be rather crass, as most young men were, and Ned often described him as. Therefore, she was not surprised to find it was his booming voice they had heard from outside the inn they had taken rest in, nor was she surprised to see a woman draped across his lap after she had taken her leave for the night. Ben had joined her later on, chattering about the melee and joust and how he couldn’t wait to see Brandon and Ned compete. She smiled along as his excitement dropped and his words slowed. It was only after the room quieted and she could only hear his even huffs of breath that she let her smile drop.
She, too, had been just as excited as him. When her father had agreed to let her go, it had been all she and Ben had talked of for weeks. Even the first leg of the journey had been fun. Brandon had even joined in. Even if only to say he could beat whichever lord or knight they were talking about.
But now, she wanted to throw up. If Robert wasn’t the man she was to marry, she thought she might have liked him. While she hated to admit it, he was attractive and quite funny. He got on well with her brothers, even if she knew Brandon was partially faking it. But throughout the evening there had been little comments and looks sent her way that had made her feel uneasy. At first she thought she was just paranoid or maybe just judging him too harshly, but only after the second comment and fourth stare did she notice Brandon gripping his cup so tightly his knuckles were white and Ned’s tilted stare at Robert. She had excused herself before the men got too deep in their cups.
Now as the night was quiet, her eyes drifted from the spot on the ceiling that had held her attention since Benjen fell asleep to the door. Her heart started to beat faster as an idea started to take root. She slowly sat up, her fingers gripping the sheets as she did. The inn was quiet. She glanced down at Ben. He was dead to the world. She could sneak out of the room with him none the wiser. The stairs would be harder. They were old and had creaked with every step, but she was light on her feet. If she took them slowly, she could make it work. Even if she wasn’t as quiet as she needed to be, no one would know it was her on those stairs except Ben. The inn was packed. It could be anyone.
That thought gave her pause. There had been a dozen or two northerners who had journeyed with them. Lyanna had known most of them, but the same amount had been with Ned and Robert and she didn’t know them, nor did she want to. Brandon had given her a small dagger before they had left Winterfell. ‘Just in case,’ he had said. She cringed now as she realized why she might need it. She thought of getting caught by either group, sent her falling back against the bed.
The next two days were spent riding. Riding with Robert by her side. Brandon had tried to intervene, but Ned had kept pulling him into conversations. Lyanna sent him multiple glares before ignoring him entirely. The closer they got to Harrenhal the more she wished she had taken her chance at the inn. The longer she spoke to Robert, the more she realized she had absolutely no desire to marry him. She could tell he wasn’t a bad man. She knew he and Ned would never be friends if he were. But he wouldn’t be a good husband, especially to someone like her. Old Nan had called it the Wolf’s Blood, while their father just called it trouble.
On her thirteenth name day, Brandon had taken her on a tour of all the northern keeps. She had broken bread with all the lords and was shown the grounds. She had sat at their high tables and eaten with them. She had known most of the lords and ladies and their children, but there had been a shift in the air being away from Winterfell. For a minute in time, she hadn’t been their High Lord’s daughter. She was her own person with her own thoughts.
After they returned, their father yelled at both of them until his voice was hoarse. He had ordered Brandon back to the Barrowlands, and she was banned from the stables and given more lessons with Maester Walys. Before being dismissed, Brandon had shot her a quick grin, showing her he didn’t regret it one bit.
She wondered if Robert would ever do something like that for her. He talked little of Storm's End. Only that his two younger brothers still resided there and that his maester and castellan ruled in his stead. He spoke little of the place, but still assured her she would love it there. He had ignored her incredulous look and switched topics.
He dominated the conversation. Rarely asking her questions or allowing her to voice her own opinion. Maybe that’s why he and Ned were friends. The more he talked, the more Lyanna wondered why Ned spoke so highly of him. But Ned had always been the shy one of the pack. He hated being the center of attention. The first time he had beaten Brandon at swords, Ser Mortin clapped a hand on his back and loudly announced him as the winner. The light dusting of pink across his cheeks quickly turned bright red as Lyanna and Ben’s cheering turned his attention to the other men who had gathered and were now giving their praise as well. He had avoided the sparring pit for a few days afterward, claiming to be too sore, but Lyanna knew better.
She looked back at her brother; he was smiling at something Brandon had said. When he caught her staring, he sent her a hope-filled look. It broke a bit of her heart. He seemed to desperately want her and Robert together. She wasn't sure why it meant so much to him. She turned away before her face could show any emotion.
They made it to Harrenhal as the sun began to fall into the horizon. She was glad for the reprieve from riding and from Robert. She had fallen into her cot, willing herself to fall asleep with the chatter of the surrounding camp. It seemed her torture for the day was not over when she heard boots stomp their way into her tent. She knew none of the northerners would allow anyone in her tent, so it had to be one of her brothers. She opened one eye, finding Ned staring her down at the entrance of the tent. She let out a huff as she sat up and stared right back. She forgot how much better her brother was at this game than her.
“Well, what is it?” She broke first. He walked a few steps closer. She had spent the last three days with her brother, but it was only now that she noticed how much older he looked. It had been some time since she had last seen him. He still looked like a boy then. But now he looked like their father, and that made her mad. She knew her face showed it, too. She could feel the deep set of her brows and clenching of her teeth.
“Can’t you just give him a chance, Lya?” Any anger he had held when bursting in seemed to leave him with that question. “He’s really trying.” She scoffed at that. Him pulling a girl into his lap as soon as she left the room was him trying? Ned gave her a disapproving look. Now he was really pissing her off. “Lyanna, you are betrothed now. Can't you at least try to make it work? I’ve told him all about you, Lya. He could love you if you only gave him a chance to.” He smiled at her in a way only Ned could. After their mother died, he had smiled so rarely, but when he did, it made her want to do anything to keep it there. She had wanted to rage at him, but now she only wanted to cry.
He could love her if she gave him a chance? But could she ever love him? Did Ned even care about that? Or did he just think of her as a woman who had to do her duty to her house? She didn’t want to think that. He was her brother, but he had also been raised alongside Robert on and off for the last nine years. Had he given Robert this same impassioned plea, or was it just reserved for her?
“Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature.” Ned would never understand her need for something more. He had more freedom than even Brandon. He was the second son. Their father had encouraged his many adventures. But he would understand her want for a faithful husband. As far as they knew, their father had never ventured from their mother’s bed, and the disparaging remarks he had for men that did furthered that belief.
“Whatever he did before you were betrothed shouldn’t matter.” She stopped him before he could finish. Ned wasn’t a fool, and she hated when he acted one.
“And I suppose ‘whatever he does’ when I'm asleep shouldn’t matter either?” He began to shake his as if he was going to dispute the fact that he had a girl in his lap hours after meeting her. “Are you really going to stand there and defend him? I saw him with my own eyes. I could move past the child in the Eyrie. But how can you expect me to believe he would be faithful to me after watching him pull a woman into his lap as soon as he thought I left the room? I’m not a fool, Ned.” She didn’t think she had ever taken such a sharp tone with him before.
She couldn’t look at him any longer. She pushed past him to the entrance of the tent. She was not shocked by the sight that greeted her, but she could tell that Ned was. He had walked up behind her, and she felt his whole body tense at the sight before them. Robert and the other men from the Eyrie had set up camp right next to them. It was easy to make out Robert in the short distance between them. The firelight lit up his form as he dragged his hand up the thigh of some girl draped across his lap. He whispered in her ear as their heads inched closer and closer together. Lyanna looked away. She wasn’t jealous or even mad, really. She was mostly just sad. Sad that this would be her life.
She ignored Ned as she made her way back to her cot. She let out a sigh as she sat down. This would be her life. A life Ned and her father had pushed her into. She couldn’t even find it in herself to be mad at him as he kneeled in front of her.
“I’ll have a talk with him. I’ll tell him your expectations.” He stopped to think for a second. “My expectations. I will not let him dishonor my sister in such a way.” Were his expectations worth more than hers? Would he have let Robert dishonor any other woman who was in her place? She shook her head, trying to dislodge the negative thoughts of her brother.
“I’m tired, Ned.” He shook his head, looking ready to keep their conversation going. Or was it a fight? Had she ever fought with Ned before? She had no plans to continue whatever it was they were doing. She pulled off her boots as she looked back at him. “Really, Ned, I just want to go to sleep.” She felt her desperation all fall out in one sentence. Ned must have heard it too. His expression looked pained as he stood.
“I’ll speak with him, I promise.” He held her gaze and for once she didn’t want to win his little staring contest. She blew out her candle and turned over, putting her back toward him.
“Goodnight, Ned.” The darkness swallowed up her whispered words. But she knew he had heard them. Minutes passed before he whispered the words back. At hearing his retreating footsteps, Lyanna turned to her back. She stared at the canvas above and it was like she was back at the inn. The urge to run was so strong she was gripping her thighs to keep herself seated. It would be harder here. She knew either of her brothers or one of their men would watch her tent. She should have left when she had the chance.
She’s not sure if Ned ever had that talk with Robert, but he stopped trying to push them together. She spent her days exploring the grounds with Ben. The melee and joust didn’t start for a few more days, so Brandon had made them watch him practice. She had missed having her brothers all in one place. She tried to push down the thoughts of times like this happening even less if she was in the south.
It was during her and Ben’s exploring that she met Howland Reed. She hadn’t really been thinking when she picked up the tourney sword and went after the three boys picking on the crannogmen. She knew she definitely hadn’t been thinking when she let Ben talk her into entering the tourney as a mystery knight. And she had clearly lost her mind as she ran with Howland into the woods off the coast of God’s Eye to get rid of all the evidence. She was surprised she had any brainpower left at all when Prince Rhaegar and Ser Arthur Dayne questioned her while she was in the middle of getting rid of said evidence. And for the second time, she was thinking she should have run when she had the chance.
His hair was wild as the wood, but he had larger concerns.
that time in ACoK when theon didn’t care about his appearance