#marillion gif
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Marillion - Cover My Eyes
#marillion#marillion gif#steve hogarth#neo prog#neo-prog#progressive rock#prog rock#classic rock#rock music#90s rock#90s music#retro#retro style#british man#black hair#charming man#alternative rock#pop rock#art rock#art pop
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daniel sharman as kelly lord (lipsyncing to keyleigh by marillion in a fur coat and eyeliner) 1x3
bonus (he gets caught)
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"I wish the Hound were here." --Sansa Stark
Whenever people say, "Sansa was traumatized/abused/sexually assaulted by Sandor during the night of the Blackwater," I either assume they've never read the books or completely missed these passages from Sansa AFTER the night he apparently TrAuMaTiZeD her.
The time Sansa wished Sandor was with her and second-guessed not leaving KL with him:
I wish the Hound were here. The night of the battle, Sandor Clegane had come to her chambers to take her from the city, but Sansa had refused. Sometimes she lay awake at night, wondering if she’d been wise. She had his stained white cloak hidden in a cedar chest beneath her summer silks. She could not say why she’d kept it. The Hound had turned craven, she heard it said; at the height of the battle, he got so drunk the Imp had to take his men. But Sansa understood. She knew the secret of his burned face. It was only the fire he feared. That night, the wildfire had set the river itself ablaze, and filled the very air with green flame. Even in the castle, Sansa had been afraid. Outside… she could scarcely imagine it. (ASOS. After the night of the Blackwater)
The time she mistakes Lothor Brune, her savior from Marillion, for Sandor:
Sansa heard the soft sound of steel on leather. “Singer,” a rough voice said, “best go, if you want to sing again.” The light was dim, but she saw a faint glimmer of a blade.
The singer saw it too. “Find your own wench -” The knife flashed, and he cried out. “You cut me!”
“I’ll do worse, if you don’t go.”
And quick as that, Marillion was gone. The other remained, looming over Sansa in the darkness. “Lord Petyr said watch out for you.” It was Lothor Brune’s voice, she realized. Not the Hound’s, no, how could it be? Of course it had to be Lothor…
(ASOS. Still after the Blackwater.)
The time she remembers when Sandor saved her from rape:
And Littlefinger was no friend of hers. When Joff had her beaten, the Imp defended her, not Littlefinger. When the mob sought to rape her, the Hound carried her to safety, not Littlefinger. When the Lannisters wed her to Tyrion against her will, Ser Garlan the Gallant gave her comfort, not Littlefinger. Littlefinger never lifted so much as his little finger for her. (AFFC. Even more after the night of the Blackwater)
Was Sandor a gentleman that night? No.
Was he himself traumatized? Yes.
Does that excuse his behavior? No.
You know who has the emotional intelligence to understand the origins of his trauma and empathize with him?
Sansa "I wish the Hound were here" Stark
#sansa stark#sandor clegane#sansan#meta#this is reading comprehension 101#i don't know about others but I've never ever wished for my abuser's presence
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Operation Stumpy Re-Read
AFFC: Alayne I (Sansa II) [Chapter 23]
My little chickadee! 🥰
It's too long. Must cut!
As the rising sun came streaming through the windows, Alayne sat up in bed and stretched.
New name, who dis?
+.+.+
The stone was cold beneath her feet, and the wind was blowing fiercely, as it always did up here, but the view made her forget all that for half a heartbeat. Maiden's was the easternmost of the Eyrie's seven slender towers, so she had the Vale before her, its forests and rivers and fields all hazy in the morning light. The way the sun was hitting the mountains made them look like solid gold.
So lovely.
Would you call it an enchantment?
+.+.+
A falcon soared above the frozen waterfall, blue wings spread wide against the morning sky. Would that I had wings as well.
Bran shoutout!
You know my stance on warging. I don't have any desire to see Sansa slip into a bird.
+.+.+
She rested her hands on the carved stone balustrade and made herself peer over the edge. She could see Sky six hundred feet below, and the stone steps carved into the mountain, the winding way that led past Snow and Stone all the way down to the valley floor.
Nobody likes a third wheel.
+.+.+
Around the walls the hosts of Lords Declarant were stirring, emerging from their tents like ants from an anthill. If only they were truly ants, she thought, we could step on them and crush them.
Woah, easy there, Daenerys.
+.+.+
The six had gathered at Runestone after Lysa Arryn's fall, and there made a pact together, vowing to defend Lord Robert, the Vale, and one another. Their declaration made no mention of the Lord Protector, but spoke of "misrule" that must be ended, and of "false friends and evil counselors" as well.
A cold gust of wind blew up her legs.
Incheresting.
+.+.+
A few of the oldest gowns had been made for young Lysa Tully of Riverrun, however, and others Gretchel had been able to alter to fit Alayne, who was almost as long of leg at three-and-ten as her aunt had been at twenty.
+.+.+
Alayne had darkened it again last night before she went to bed. The wash her aunt had given her changed her own rich auburn into Alayne's burnt brown, but it was seldom long before the red began creeping back at the roots. And what must I do when the dye runs out? The wash had come from Tyrosh, across the narrow sea.
Smells like a developing issue.
+.+.+
She could hear the wind moaning and sighing round the towers, but that was all.
BRAN?!
+.+.+
When she had first come to Eyrie, there had been the murmur of Alyssa's Tears as well, but the waterfall was frozen now. Gretchel said it would stay silent till the spring.
Silent, but deadly.
+.+.+
"I am not hungry," he decided. "I want to go back to bed. I never slept last night. I heard singing. Maester Colemon gave me dreamwine but I could still hear it."
Alayne put down her spoon. "If there had been singing, I should have heard it too. You had a bad dream, that's all."
"No, it wasn't a dream." Tears filled his eyes. "Marillion was singing again. Your father says he's dead, but he isn't."
"He is." It frightened her to hear him talk like this. Bad enough that he is small and sickly, what if he is mad as well? "Sweetrobin, he is. Marillion loved your lady mother too much and could not live with what he'd done to her, so he walked into the sky." Alayne had not seen the body, no more than Robert had, but she did not doubt the fact of the singer's death. "He's gone, truly."
"But I hear him every night. Even when I close the shutters and put a pillow on my head. Your father should have cut his tongue out. I told him to, but he wouldn't."
I've seen people speculate Marillion isn't dead, I've seen people speculate Sweetrobin is a greenseer, and I've seen people speculate Littlefinger is purposely driving the child mad.
I think it's just trauma?
+.+.+
Petyr smiled. "There will be eight of them. Lord Nestor is showing them up, and they have Lyn Corbray with them. Ser Lyn is not the sort of man to stay away when blood is in the offing."
His words did little to soothe her fears. Lyn Corbray had slain almost as many men in duels as he had in battle. He had won his spurs during Robert's Rebellion, she knew, fighting first against Lord Jon Arryn at the gates of Gulltown, and later beneath his banners on the Trident, where he had cut down Prince Lewyn of Dorne, a white knight of the Kingsguard. Petyr said that Prince Lewyn had been sorely wounded by the time the tide of battle swept him to his final dance with Lady Forlorn, but added, "That's not a point you'll want to raise with Corbray, though. Those who do are soon given the chance to ask Martell himself the truth of it, down in the halls of hell." If even half of what she had heard from Lord Robert's guards was true, Lyn Corbray was more dangerous than all six of the Lords Declarant put together. "Why is he coming?" she asked. "I thought the Corbrays were for you."
"Lord Lyonel Corbray is well disposed toward my rule," said Petyr, "but his brother goes his own way. On the Trident, when their father fell wounded, it was Lyn who snatched up Lady Forlorn and slew the man who'd cut him down. Whilst Lyonel was carrying the old man back to the maesters in the rear, Lyn led his charge against the Dornishmen threatening Robert's left, broke their lines to pieces, and slew Lewyn Martell. So when old Lord Corbray died, he bestowed the Lady upon his younger son. Lyonel got his lands, his title, his castle, and all his coin, yet still feels he was cheated of his birthright, whilst Ser Lyn . . . well, he loves Lyonel as much as he loves me. He wanted Lysa's hand for himself."
Please enjoy this absolutely excessive history lesson on Lyn Corbray. God, I wonder if this is an important character.
Keep in mind everything Sansa is told about Lyn Corbray, it makes the end of this chapter even more impressive.
+.+.+
"Your mother is dead, my lord. Until your sixteenth name day, I rule the Eyrie."
Tell me again why he's in such a hurry to hand the Vale over to Harrold Hardyng.
+.+.+
The maester combed his fingers through his hair, dribbling globs of porridge on the floor. "Lady Lysa would give his lordship her breast whenever he grew overwrought. Archmaester Ebrose claims that mother's milk has many heathful properties."
[...]
"No, I think not. I suggest you find another way. The boy is fond of sweets, is he not?"
"Sweets?" said Colemon.
"Sweets. Cakes and pies, jams and jellies, honey on the comb. Perhaps a pinch of sweetsleep in his milk, have you tried that? Just a pinch, to calm him and stop his wretched shaking."
"A pinch?" The apple in the maester's throat moved up and down as he swallowed. "One small pinch . . . perhaps, perhaps. Not too much, and not too often, yes, I might try . . ."
Vetoing the maester's suggestion, and proposing something else.
The problem I have with this scheme is that it relies too heavily on a maester being incompetent.
+.+.+
"I despise porridge." He looked at her with Littlefinger's eyes. "I'd sooner break my fast with a kiss."
How observant.
Starting from this chapter, Sansa will rarely refer to him as Littlefinger in her internal monologue. It's saved for moments when he's no longer Petyr.
+.+.+
A true daughter would not refuse her sire a kiss, so Alayne went to him and kissed him, a quick dry peck upon the cheek, and just as quickly stepped away.
"How . . . dutiful." Littlefinger smiled with his mouth, but not his eyes.
Tell me again why he's in such a hurry to hand Catelyn Sansa over to Brandon Stark Harrold Hardyng.
+.+.+
"Bronze Yohn knows me," she reminded him. "He was a guest at Winterfell when his son rode north to take the black." She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. "And that was not the only time. Lord Royce saw . . . he saw Sansa Stark again at King's Landing, during the Hand's tourney."
+.+.+
Petyr put a finger under her chin.
I will fold your windpipe.
+.+.+
"That Royce glimpsed this pretty face I do not doubt, but it was one face in a thousand. A man fighting in a tourney has more to concern him than some child in the crowd. And at Winterfell, Sansa was a little girl with auburn hair. My daughter is a maiden tall and fair, and her hair is chestnut. Men see what they expect to see, Alayne."
+.+.+
He kissed her nose.
I will milk your capillaries.
+.+.+
"No. Gods forbid they glimpse me near the high seat of the Arryns, they might think that I mean to sit in it. Cheeks born so low as mine must never aspire to such lofty cushions."
Sure.
If you wish to believe Littlefinger intends to hand the Vale and Sansa over to some arrogant, headstrong, 18-year-old boy who doesn't even like him, you are more than welcome to do so.
I will not be joining you.
+.+.+
"Yes, but the castle is yours."
"Ah, and what a castle it is. Cavernous halls and ruined towers, ghosts and draughts, ruinous to heat, impossible to garrison . . . and there's that small matter of a curse."
"Curses are only in songs and stories."
That seemed to amuse him.
Worried about curses, are you?
"I do solemnly proclaim Tyrion of House Lannister and Sansa of House Stark to be man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them." - Sansa III, ASOS
+.+.+
"Has someone made a song about Gregor Clegane dying of a poisoned spear thrust? Or about the sellsword before him, whose limbs Ser Gregor removed a joint at a time? That one took the castle from Ser Amory Lorch, who received it from Lord Tywin. A bear killed one, your dwarf the other. Lady Whent's died as well, I hear. Lothstons, Strongs, Harroways, Strongs . . . Harrenhal has withered every hand to touch it."
"Then give it to Lord Frey."
Petyr laughed. "Perhaps I shall. Or better still, to our sweet Cersei. Though I should not speak harshly of her, she is sending me some splendid tapestries. Isn't that kind of her?"
Bran won't be scared of Harrenhal, you wuss.
Someone on Reddit suggested the tapestry plot (that isn't much of a plot) exists to give us a better sense of the timeline. That might be spot on.
+.+.+
"—I might have to remove her from the game sooner than I'd planned. Provided she does not remove herself first." Petyr teased her with a little smile. "In the game of thrones, even the humblest pieces can have wills of their own. Sometimes they refuse to make the moves you've planned for them. Mark that well, Alayne. It's a lesson that Cersei Lannister still has yet to learn. Now, don't you have some duties to perform?"
Kettleblack things?
In the game of thrones, even the humblest pieces can have wills of their own. Sometimes they refuse to make the moves you've planned for them.
+.+.+
The solar next. Its floor was covered by a Myrish carpet, so there was no need to lay down rushes. Alayne asked two serving men to erect the trestle table and bring up eight of the heavy oak-and-leather chairs. For a feast she would have placed one at the head of the table, one at the foot, and three along each side, but this was no feast. She had the men arrange six chairs on one side of the table, two on the other.
I love it. She's making Nestor Royce sit beside Littlefinger. Petyr never instructed her to do that.
+.+.+
It might be that the lords would talk late into the night. They would need fresh candles. After Maddy laid the fire, she sent her down to find the scented beeswax candles Lord Waxley had given Lady Lysa when he sought to win her hand. Then she visited the kitchens once again, to make certain of the wine and bread. All seemed well in hand, and there was still time enough for her to bathe and wash her hair and change.
Why Sansa, you seem to excel at running a household.
+.+.+
Steep stone steps crept up the mountainside past the waycastles Stone and Snow, but they came to an end at Sky.
Two's company, three's a crowd.
+.+.+
Petyr had given her a roll of arms to study, so she knew their heraldry if not their faces.
This is like giving her access to Instagram.
+.+.+
Hunter's cheeks and nose were red as apples, which bespoke a certain fondness for the grape. She made certain to fill his cup as often as he emptied it.
Littlefinger didn't instruct her to do this either. Hahahaha.
+.+.+
The youngest man in the party had three ravens on his chest, each clutching a blood-red heart in its talons. His brown hair was shoulder length; one stray lock curled down across his forehead. Ser Lyn Corbray, Alayne thought, with a wary glance at his hard mouth and restless eyes.
Should I read into that sigil?
+.+.+
He will know me. How could he not? She considered throwing herself at his feet to beg for his protection. He never fought for Robb, why should he fight for me? The war is finished and Winterfell is fallen. "Lord Royce," she asked timidly, "will you have a cup of wine, to take the chill off?"
DO IT.
TRUST YOURSELF.
+.+.+
Bronze Yohn had slate-grey eyes, half-hidden beneath the bushiest eyebrows she had ever seen. They crinkled when he looked down at her. "Do I know you, girl?"
Uh oh!
+.+.+
"How old are you, child?" asked Lady Waynwood.
"Four-fourteen, my lady." For a moment she forgot how old Alayne should be. "And I am no child, but a maiden flowered."
"But not deflowered, one can hope." Young Lord Hunter's bushy mustache hid his mouth entirely.
"Yet," said Lyn Corbray, as if she were not there. "But ripe for plucking soon, I'd say."
Sansa's gone from being a child to fully ripened faster than you can say five year gap.
+.+.+
She went to fetch the flagon whilst the visitors arranged themselves side by side . . . all save Nestor Royce, who hesitated before walking around the table to take the empty chair beside Lord Petyr
She's so underrated.
+.+.+
Lyn Corbray, who went to stand beside the hearth instead. The heart-shaped ruby in the pommel of his sword shone redly as he warmed his hands. Alayne saw him smile at Ser Lothor Brune. Ser Lyn is very handsome, for an older man, she thought, but I do not like the way he smiles.
Lyn Corbray doesn't lack fire!
Sansa caught a smile between Lothor and Lyn. She's on the scent!
+.+.+
"His lordship will remain in the Vale," declared Yohn Royce.
"I mean to take the boy with me to Runestone, and raise him up to be a knight that Jon Arryn would be proud of."
"Why Runestone?" Petyr mused. "Why not Ironoaks or the Redfort? Why not Longbow Hall?"
Yay, we're back!
Places Sweetrobin won't be fostered:
Casterly Rock
Dragonstone
Winterfell
The Twins
Runestone
Ironoaks
Redfort
Longbow Hall
Hmmm.
+.+.+
Runestone suits us all. Lord Yohn raised three fine sons of his own, there is no man more fit to foster his young lordship. Maester Helliweg is a good deal older and more experienced than your own Maester Colemon, and better suited to treat Lord Robert's frailties.
Casually throwing in Colemon might be in over his head.
+.+.+
At Runestone he will also find other boys his own age, more suitable companions than the old women and sellswords that presently surround him.
Let Bran be his companion!
+.+.+
"Robert should have an older boy about him too. A promising young squire, say. Someone he could admire and try to emulate." Petyr turned to Lady Waynwood. "You have such a boy at Ironoaks, my lady. Perhaps you might agree to send me Harrold Hardyng."
Welcome to the story, Chad.
+.+.+
"Are you threatening me with war, ser?" Petyr did not sound the least afraid.
Bronze Yohn said, "We shall have Lord Robert."
For a moment it seemed as though they had come to an impasse, until Lyn Corbray turned from the fire. "All this talk makes me ill. Littlefinger will talk you out of your smallclothes if you listen long enough. The only way to settle his sort is with steel." He drew his longsword.
Petyr spread his hands. "I wear no sword, ser."
"Easily remedied." Candlelight rippled along the smoke-grey steel of Corbray's blade, so dark that it put Sansa in mind of Ice, her father's greatsword. "Your apple-eater holds a blade. Tell him to give it to you, or draw that dagger."
She saw Lothor Brune reach for his own sword, but before the blades could meet Bronze Yohn rose in wrath. "Put up your steel, ser! Are you a Corbray or a Frey? We are guests here."
Lady Waynwood pursed her lips, and said, "This is unseemly."
"Sheathe your sword, Corbray," Young Lord Hunter echoed. "You shame us all with this."
"Come, Lyn," chided Redfort in a softer tone. "This will serve for nought. Put Lady Forlorn to bed."
"My lady has a thirst," Ser Lyn insisted. "Whenever she comes out to dance, she likes a drop of red."
Littlefinger was losing until Lyn Corbray stepped in and disgraced the Lords Declarant. Nice.
"My lady has a thirst," Ser Lyn insisted. "Whenever she comes out to dance, she likes a drop of red."
Count on that.
"Your apple-eater holds a blade. Tell him to give it to you, or draw that dagger."
Which dagger would that be?
He he he.
+.+.+
"Lord Baelish," Ser Symond said, "you must forgive us that display."
"Must I?" Littlefinger's voice had grown cold. "You brought him here, my lords."
Bronze Yohn said, "It was never our intent—"
"You brought him here. I would be well within my rights to call my guards and have all of you arrested."
Hunter lurched to his feet so wildly that he almost knocked the flagon out of Alayne's hands. "You gave us safe conduct!"
"Yes. Be grateful that I have more honor than some." Petyr sounded as angry as she had ever heard him. "I have read your declaration and heard your demands. Now hear mine. Remove your armies from this mountain. Go home and leave my son in peace. Misrule there has been, I will not deny it, but that was Lysa's work, not mine. Grant me but a year, and with Lord Nestor's help I promise that none of you shall have any cause for grievance."
[...]
Alayne could see the doubt blooming in the eyes of the Lords Declarant. "A year is not so long a time," Lord Redfort said uncertainly. "Mayhaps . . . if you gave assurances . . ."
[...]
"Gladly," said Petyr. "It is friends I want, not foes. I shall pardon all of you, in writing if you wish. Even Lyn Corbray. His brother is a good man, there is no need to bring down shame upon a noble House."
What a guy, he'll even pardon them!
Littlefinger gets the win, and nobody suspects a thing. Well, maybe two people.
+.+.+
"There is no need. It is plain that he has won." Bronze Yohn's grey eyes considered Petyr Baelish. "I like it not, but it would seem you have your year. Best use it well, my lord. Not all of us are fooled."
Not clear if Bronze Yohn suspects foul play, or if this is more of a general assessment of Littlefinger.
+.+.+
He bewitched them, Alayne thought as she lay abed that night listening to the wind howl outside her windows. She could not have said where the suspicion came from, but once it crossed her mind it would not let her sleep. She tossed and turned, worrying at it like a dog at some old bone. Finally, she rose and dressed herself, leaving Gretchel to her dreams.
Given what Sansa knows, Lyn Corbray did not do anything out of character. But this is Sansa.
Nobody can uncover a plot quite like Sansa.
+.+.+
Petyr was still awake, scratching out a letter. "Alayne," he said. "My sweet. What brings you here so late?"
"I had to know. What will happen in a year?"
He put down his quill. "Redfort and Waynwood are old. One or both of them may die. Gilwood Hunter will be murdered by his brothers. Most likely by young Harlan, who arranged Lord Eon's death. In for a penny, in for a stag, I always say. Belmore is corrupt and can be bought. Templeton I shall befriend. Bronze Yohn Royce will continue to be hostile, I fear, but so long as he stands alone he is not so much a threat."
Littlefinger's plan is half the lords dying. I think that's worthy of a red flag.
+.+.+
"And Ser Lyn Corbray?"
The candlelight was dancing in his eyes. "Ser Lyn will remain my implacable enemy. He will speak of me with scorn and loathing to every man he meets, and lend his sword to every secret plot to bring me down."
That was when her suspicion turned to certainty. "And how shall you reward him for this service?"
Littlefinger laughed aloud. "With gold and boys and promises, of course. Ser Lyn is a man of simple tastes, my sweetling. All he likes is gold and boys and killing."
Killing whom?
With zero evidence, Sansa just pieced together a plot that the six Lords Declarant couldn't.
So underrated.
Final thoughts:
Lyn Corbray! We're not done with Lyn Corbray, or Sansa's intuition.
Let's summarize everything we're told about Lyn Corbray before this reveal.
Across the terrace, Lysa laughed gaily at some jest of Lord Hunter's, and nibbled a blackberry from the point of Ser Lyn Corbray's dagger. They were the suitors who stood highest in Lysa's favor … today, at least. - Catelyn VII, AGOT
x
Ser Lyn was a different sort of folly; lean and handsome, heir to an ancient but impoverished house, but vain, reckless, hot-tempered … and, it was whispered, notoriously uninterested in the intimate charms of women. - Catelyn VII, AGOT
x
Ser Kevan cleared his throat. "I would sooner have Petyr Baelish ruling the Eyrie than any of Lady Lysa's other suitors. Yohn Royce, Lyn Corbray, Horton Redfort . . . these are dangerous men, each in his own way. And proud. Littlefinger may be clever, but he has neither high birth nor skill at arms. The lords of the Vale will never accept such as their liege." - Tyrion III, ASOS
x
The device painted on the shield was one Sansa did not know; a grey stone head with fiery eyes, upon a light green field. "My grandfather's shield," Petyr explained when he saw her gazing at it. "His own father was born in Braavos and came to the Vale as a sellsword in the hire of Lord Corbray, so my grandfather took the head of the Titan as his sigil when he was knighted." - Sansa VII, ASOS
x
"You are well-informed. Which Corbrays? Not Lord Lyonel?"
"No, his brother. Ser Lyn mislikes me, for some reason."
"Lyn Corbray is a dangerous man," Lord Nestor said doggedly. - Sansa I, AFFC
x
Nestor Royce had been silent all this while, but now he spoke up loudly. "I once hoped to wed Lady Lysa myself. As did Lord Hunter's father and Lady Anya's son. Corbray scarce left her side for half a year. - Alayne I, AFFC
Lyn Corbray is dangerous. Got that? It's repeated enough.
Lyn Corbray is a proud, vain, reckless, hot-tempered man.
Lyn Corbray comes from an ancient, but impoverished house.
Before Littlefinger stepped in, Lyn Corbray courted Lysa for half a year, and stood the best chance of winning her favor.
Littlefinger's great-grandfather was a sellsword who served House Corbray, and now Littlefinger is Lord Protector of the Vale.
Despite all of this, Littlefinger manages to secure a secret alliance with Lyn, by offering gold, boys, and other promises.
Her new husband seemed to spend more time at the foot of the mountain than he did atop it. He was gone now, had been gone the past four days, meeting with the Corbrays. From bits and pieces of overheard conversations Sansa knew that Jon Arryn's bannermen resented Lysa's marriage and begrudged Petyr his authority as Lord Protector of the Vale. - Sansa VII, ASOS
And our gifted little Sansa is able to detect that secret alliance, when a whole room full of nobles couldn't.
Since the Joffrey debacle, Sansa has continuously demonstrated a remarkable ability to read people and situations.
Sansa always knows.
The king's own fool, the pie-faced simpleton called Moon Boy, danced about on stilts, all in motley, making mock of everyone with such deft cruelty that Sansa wondered if he was simple after all. - Sansa II, AGOT
x
I hear all sorts of things as a fool that I never heard when I was a knight. They talk as though I am not there, and"—he leaned close, breathing his winey breath right in her face—"the Spider pays in gold for any little trifle. I think Moon Boy has been his for years." - Sansa IV, ACOK
Sansa always knows.
"Ser Ilyn's the King's Justice, not Ser Loras," Jeyne said. "Lord Eddard should have sent him."
Sansa shuddered. Every time she looked at Ser Ilyn Payne, she shivered. - Sansa III, AGOT
Sansa always knows.
Varys was wringing his soft hands together, Grand Maester Pycelle kept his sleepy eyes on the papers in front of him, but she could feel Littlefinger staring. Something about the way the small man looked at her made Sansa feel as though she had no clothes on. Goose bumps pimpled her skin. - Sansa IV, AGOT
Sansa always knows.
Sansa glimpsed motion from the corner of her eye as Janos Slynt made his entrance. [...] For his sigil he had taken a bloody spear, gold on a night-black field. The sight of it raised goose prickles up and down Sansa's arms. - Sansa V, AGOT
Sansa always knows.
Ser Boros was short-tempered, Ser Meryn cold, and Ser Mandon's strange dead eyes made her uneasy - Sansa I, ACOK
Sansa always knows.
"I don't want to." Lollys clutched at her maid, a slender, pretty girl with short dark hair who looked as though she wanted nothing so much as to shove her mistress into the dry moat, onto those iron spikes. "Please, please, I don't want to." - Sansa V, ACOK
Sansa always knows.
Lord Paramount of the Trident, Sansa thought, and Lord of Harrenhal as well. She did not understand why that should make him so happy; the honors were as empty as the title granted to Hallyne the Pyromancer. 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. - Sansa VIII, ACOK
Sansa always knows.
Yet the more she thought about it all, the more she wondered. Joff might restrain himself for a few turns, perhaps as long as a year, but soon or late he will show his claws, and when he does . . . The realm might have a second Kingslayer, and there would be war inside the city, as the men of the lion and the men of the rose made the gutters run red. - Sansa I, ASOS
x
Be that as it may. Lady Olenna was not about to let Joff harm her precious darling granddaughter, but unlike her son she also realized that under all his flowers and finery, Ser Loras is as hot-tempered as Jaime Lannister. Toss Joffrey, Margaery, and Loras in a pot, and you've got the makings for kingslayer stew. The old woman understoof something else as well. - Sansa VI, ASOS
Sansa always knows.
Great, why is this important?
Let's skip ahead.
There is truth in that, Alayne thought, but some demon of mischief was in her that morning, so she gave Ser Lyn a thrust of her own. Smiling sweetly, she said, "My lord father tells me your brother's new wife is with child."
Corbray gave her a dark look. "Lyonel sends his regrets. He remains at Heart's Home with his peddler's daughter, watching her belly swell as if he were the first man who ever got a wench pregnant."
Oh, that's an open wound, thought Alayne. Lyonel Corbray's first wife had given him nothing but a frail, sickly babe who died in infancy, and during all those years Ser Lyn had remained his brother's heir. When the poor woman finally died, however, Petyr Baelish had stepped in and brokered a new marriage for Lord Corbray. The second Lady Corbray was sixteen, the daughter of a wealthy Gulltown merchant, but she had come with an immense dowry, and men said she was a tall, strapping, healthy girl, with big breasts and good, wide hips. And fertile too, it seems. - Alayne I, TWOW
Littlefinger has inexplicably poked the hot-tempered, dangerous bear again.
Sansa is quick to note he's not a happy man, but it gets worse.
Alayne could not help herself. She smiled and said, "My father is always pleased to be of service to one of Lord Robert's leal bannermen. I'm sure he would be most delighted to help broker a marriage for you as well, Ser Lyn."
"How kind of him." Corbray's lips drew back in something that might have been meant as a smile, though it gave Alayne a chill. "But what need have I for heirs when I am landless and like to remain so, thanks to our Lord Protector? No. Tell your lord father I need none of his brood mares."
The venom in his voice was so thick that for a moment she almost forgot that Lyn Corbray was actually her father's catspaw, bought and paid for. Or was he? Perhaps, instead of being Petyr's man pretending to be Petyr's foe, he was actually his foe pretending to be his man pretending to be his foe.
The dreaded chill.
Sansa senses something isn't right with Lyn Corbray.
Always trust Sansa.
-> return to menu <-
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"i would seriously consider drinking the atlantic whole if only you'd asked me to," petyr says, looking at her. she reminded him of catelyn, whom he had loved since he was a boy. they were at the eyrie, she masquerading as alayne, and he wanted to see her safe. she had escaped from king's landing at his plan, ser dontos and her having climbed from the cliffs.
sansa looks at him, as he says this, of drinking an ocean because he loved her. a drop in the ocean, a change in the weather, i was praying that you and me would end up together, marillion sometimes sung as he saw her and petyr together. she knew he loved her, seeing him look at her. she was unsure of what to say to him. "the atlantic reminds me of riverrun where my mother had been born and raised," she says. she and petyr were still looking for her, they hearing stories she had been last seen in the river there, yet they searched to no avail. he said his memories of his childhood, of he and cat and lysa in the forest, climbing trees and laughing while having picnics on the grass. he had showed her a photo of catelyn whom looked beautiful with her fiery orange hair swishing behind her, he with pale blue eyes and glasses and looking rather handsome in a dark red shirt (she was surprised to know ;; thinking she would have had a crush on him). he nods sadly, remembering their time together. "i know, sweetling," he gently brushes a strand of hair from her face, dyed brown of a strong hair dye from tyrosh in the narrow seas. she wishes dontos had not died, he was a kindly fool, as she reminiscences in the eyrie, where she hears the rushing waterfall of alyssa's tears. she recalled being shocked that petyr would kill dontos, drowning him in the water, when they rowed through on a boat ; dontos saying he had rescued her for a monetary reward. yet she could see he had cared for her, he saying he was her florian and she was his jonquil, they speaking in the woods. he had said she had saved him, a drunk, from being slain by joffrey. she and petyr were at the eyrie, where her sweetrobin was.
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Do you remember?
Chalk hearts melting on a playground wall
Do you remember?
Dawn escapes from moon washed college halls
Do you remember?
The cherry blossom in the market square
Do you remember?
I thought it was confetti in our hair
By the way, didn't I break your heart?
Please excuse me, I never meant to break your heart
So sorry, I never meant to break your heart
But you broke mine
Kayleigh, is it too late to say I'm sorry?
And, Kayleigh, could we get it together again?
I just can't go on pretending
That it came to a natural end
Kayleigh, oh I never thought I'd miss you
And, Kayleigh, I thought that we'd always be friends
We said our love would last forever
So how did it come to this bitter end?
Do you remember?
Barefoot on the lawn with shooting stars
Do you remember?
The loving on the floor in Belsize Park
Do you remember?
Dancing in stilettoes in the snow
Do you remember?
You never understood I had to go
By the way, didn't I break your heart?
Please excuse me, I never meant to break your heart
So sorry, I never meant to break your heart
But you broke mine
Kayleigh, I just want to say I'm sorry
But, Kayleigh, I'm too scared to pick up the phone
To hear you've found another lover
To patch up our broken home
Kayleigh, I'm still trying to write that love song
Kayleigh, it's more important to me, now you're gone
Maybe it will prove that we were right
Or it'll prove that I was wrong
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*List your 5 favourite bands using only gifs then tag 5 people* Thanks for tagging me,@heavymetallibrarian !♥️🤘
I tag: @keyed-up-allthetime @misfit-on-a-journey @led-zeppelins @zucchinigal @scentedkryptoniteballoon
#tag game#yes band#marillion#electric light orchestra#iron maiden#tom petty and the heartbreakers#tom petty
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#marillion#marillion gif#steve hogarth#neo prog#neo-prog#prog rock#progrock#progressive rock#progressive#progressiverock#prog#classic rock#rock#rock music#90s rock#90s music#charming man#pop rock#art pop#stevehogarth
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--- he hadn’t done it. he hadn’t done it. he hadn’t done it. ALAYNE STONE could attest to the fact that he was innocent. not that she would feel inclined to speak up on his behalf. even if she did, no one would believe in the promises of a bastard girl, and her head would end up on a spike alongside his. the man was sitting in a field of flowers, humming before he was to sing. he could feel the gentleness of the breeze as it tickled his skin. he could hear the chirping of song birds, though none as talented as he was. he wondered what the sky looked like; he remembered marveling at blankets of blue and black, stretching forever, prior to being blinded by MORD. he strummed his guitar with the hand that still had all five fingers remaining. he started to sing one of his favorite sad songs: ON A MISTY MORN. “oh, have you seen my boy, good ser? his hair is chestnut brown...” his voice was clear and strong, despite the fact that the rest of him felt so discombobulated. “he’d promised he’d come back for me,” he said, thinking of little finger, but pushing the thought of that vulture away as soon as he could manage it. “our home’s in wendish town.” before he could sing another verse, he heard a shuffling of feet. he popped onto his feet, startled, his unseeing eyes wide, as he swallowed hard. was lord baelish back to finish him off? was he to return to a SKY CELL? please gods... he could have pleaded. please do not. instead, her heard a woman’s voice answer his anxiety. “who... who are you?” he stammered. “are you with lord baelish?”
@ragdclls
#🎵 ( MARILLION ) i was made to sing for kings and high lords.#for any of your single ladies babe!#he's 36#mental health tw#grief tw#ptsd tw#death tw#murder tw#torture tw#injury tw#anxiety tw
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Well there's, unfortunately, a lot of people who want to "fuck" Sansa. It would be great if it didn't, then we wouldn't be dealing with major creeps like LF, the hound, Tyrion, Marillion, or minor creeps like Dontos, Lyn Corbray, etc. Not to mention Joffrey, the little rat. Oh, and there's some unhealthy little crush that Sweetrobin has on Alayne, and another and more healthy little crush that Podrick seems to have on Sansa. not quite on the "fucking" level but you know. Not that it makes me happy to see so many predators on my little baby, but anon should think a little more before spilling their "hot takes" lol.
(about this angry anon)
I didn’t want to bother to argue with that anon, but it’s so silly that antis let their Sansa hate go so far they ignore that a lot of her suffering is driven by the fact that men do want her. And considering how they’re constantly parked on our blogs, responding to our posts/reblogs, you’d think they’d have picked up on how upsetting we find this? Most of us have written about it at some point! We hate it, but it’s a huge part of her story, as is the idea of marrying her to hold the North. 🤷🏻♀️
But enough on creepers, let’s think about sweet little Pod
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Operation Stumpy Re-Read
ACOK: Tyrion XV (Chapter 67)
He found himself outside the city, walking through a world without color. Ravens soared through a grey sky on wide black wings, while carrion crows rose from their feasts in furious clouds wherever he set his steps. White maggots burrowed through black corruption. The wolves were grey, and so were the silent sisters; together they stripped the flesh from the fallen. There were corpses strewn all over the tourney fields. The sun was a hot white penny, shining down upon the grey river as it rushed around the charred bones of sunken ships. From the pyres of the dead rose black columns of smoke and white-hot ashes. My work, thought Tyrion Lannister. They died at my command.
So nobody is confused, this is a fever dream. I have several half-assed comments:
He found himself outside the city, walking through a world without color.
Striking contrast to all the colour and bright banners being detailed in Sansa VII.
while carrion crows rose from their feasts
A Feast For Crows!
My work, thought Tyrion Lannister. They died at my command.
Tyrion feels shame over the horror he's unleashed upon King's Landing, which makes the fact that he'll do it again so much worse.
Ravens soared through a grey sky on wide black wings [...] The wolves were grey, and so were the silent sisters; together they stripped the flesh from the fallen.
Not just the above, but the whole thing smells like Daenerys in King's Landing, with wolves dealing with the aftermath.
+.+.+
The silent sisters were stripping the dead men of their armor and clothes. All the bright dyes had leached out from the surcoats of the slain; they were garbed in shades of white and grey, and their blood was black and crusty. He watched their naked bodies lifted by arm and leg, to be carried swinging to the pyres to join their fellows. Metal and cloth were thrown in the back of a white wooden wagon, pulled by two tall black horses.
So many dead, so very many. Their corpses hung limply, their faces slack or stiff or swollen with gas, unrecognizable, hardly human. The garments the sisters took from them were decorated with black hearts, grey lions, dead flowers, and pale ghostly stags. Their armor was all dented and gashed, the chainmail riven, broken, slashed. Why did I kill them all? He had known once, but somehow he had forgotten.
I promise you'll read this again, only with different sigils.
+.+.+
He would have asked one of the silent sisters, but when he tried to speak he found he had no mouth. Smooth seamless skin covered his teeth. The discovery terrified him. How could he live without a mouth? He began to run. The city was not far. He would be safe inside the city, away from all these dead. He did not belong with the dead. He had no mouth, but he was still a living man. No, a lion, a lion, and alive.
[...]
Fear swept over him in a cold rush; beneath the sheets he could feel his bladder letting go. He would have cried out, if he'd had a mouth.
[...]
His wits were coming back to him, however slowly. That was good. His wits were all he had.
[...]
Podrick Payne stood over him with a candle. When he saw Tyrion open his eyes he ran off. No, don't go, help me, help, he tried to call, but the best he could do was a muffled moan. I have no mouth.
There's been fire and slaughter in King's Landing, and Tyrion ends up with no mouth. Is this foreshadowing? I don't know.
+.+.+
He dreamed his sister was standing over his bed, with their lord father beside her, frowning.
[...]
Varys looked down on him and sighed, but Littlefinger made a quip. Bloody treacherous bastard, Tyrion thought venomously, we sent you to Bitterbridge and you never came back.
It's even worse than you realize, Tyrion.
He did come back.
+.+.+
This time he dreamed he was at a feast, a victory feast in some great hall. He had a high seat on the dais, and men were lifting their goblets and hailing him as hero. Marillion was there, the singer who'd journeyed with them through the Mountains of the Moon. He played his woodharp and sang of the Imp's daring deeds. Even his father was smiling with approval. When the song was over, Jaime rose from his place, commanded Tyrion to kneel, and touched him first on one shoulder and then on the other with his golden sword, and he rose up a knight. Shae was waiting to embrace him. She took him by the hand, laughing and teasing, calling him her giant of Lannister.
Tyrion doesn't have prophetic dreams, he has delusions of grandeur.
+.+.+
He dreamed of a better place, a snug little cottage by the sunset sea. The walls were lopsided and cracked and the floor had been made of packed earth, but he had always been warm there, even when they let the fire go out. She used to tease me about that, he remembered. I never thought to feed the fire, that had always been a servant's task. "We have no servants," she would remind me, and I would say, "You have me, I'm your servant," and she would say, "A lazy servant. What do they do with lazy servants in Casterly Rock, my lord?" and he would tell her, "They kiss them." That would always make her giggle. "They do not neither. They beat them, I bet," she would say, but he would insist, "No, they kiss them, just like this." He would show her how. "They kiss their fingers first, every one, and they kiss their wrists, yes, and inside their elbows. Then they kiss their funny ears, all our servants have funny ears. Stop laughing! And they kiss their cheeks and they kiss their noses with the little bump in them, there, so, like that, and they kiss their sweet brows and their hair and their lips, their . . . mmmm . . . mouths . . . so . . ."
Something is off.
For starters, why did a peasant girl say "My lord"? I would attribute it to Tyrion being delirious and an unreliable narrator, but then...
Why in the world would a peasant girl ever remark on the lack of servants?
Weird.
+.+.+
Sometimes she would sing to him. I loved a maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair.
Still Cersei. I will keep you informed on any further developments.
Cersei Lannister's face seemed to float before him in the darkness. Her hair was full of sunlight, but there was mockery in her smile. - Eddard XV, AGOT
x
Is this the Cersei that Jaime sees? When she smiled, you saw how beautiful she was, truly. I loved a maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair. He almost felt sorry for poisoning her. - Tyrion VI, ACOK
x
She had not been allowed to tend it properly penned up in this cell, but even unwashed and tangled it shone where the sun touched it. - Cersei II, ADWD
+.+.+
As the man leaned close, Tyrion's fingers slid underneath his chain of many metals, grabbed, pulled. The maester dropped the flask, spilling milk of the poppy all over the blanket. Tyrion twisted until he could feel the links digging into the flesh of the man's fat neck.
✨ foreshadowing ✨
+.+.+
"You . . . you want the bandages off, is that it?" the maester said at last. "But I'm not to . . . that would be . . . be most unwise, my lord. You are not yet healed, the queen would . . ."
The mention of his sister made Tyrion growl.
Too funny. Cersei wants Tyrion to remain drugged and incapacitated. Consider that debt paid, buddy.
+.+.+
If I had not pulled back, that cut would have taken off the top of my head. Jaime had always said that Ser Mandon was the most dangerous of the Kingsguard, because his dead empty eyes gave no hint to his intentions. I should never have trusted any of them. He'd known that Ser Meryn and Ser Boros were his sister's, and Ser Osmund later, but he had let himself believe that the others were not wholly lost to honor. Cersei must have paid him to see that I never came back from the battle. Why else? I never did Ser Mandon any harm that I know of. Tyrion touched his face, plucking at the proud flesh with blunt thick fingers. Another gift from my sweet sister.
Interesting observation from @agentrouka-blog:
Cersei never once reflects on this assassination attempt when her POV is introduced.
+.+.+
"Your own . . . my lord, that would not be possible. The King's Hand has taken up residence in your former chambers."
"I. Am. King's Hand." He was growing exhausted by the effort of speaking, and confused by what he was hearing.
Hahahahaha. Sucks to suck.
(Please let this be the last time he ever says that, please let this be the last time he ever says that, please let this be the last time he ever says that, please let this be the last time he ever says that, please let this be the last time he ever says that, please let this be the last time he ever says that.)
+.+.+
"Since the night of the battle. Lord Tywin saved us all. The smallfolk say it was King Renly's ghost, but wiser men know better. It was your father and Lord Tyrell, with the Knight of Flowers and Lord Littlefinger. They rode through the ashes and took the usurper Stannis in the rear. It was a great victory, and now Lord Tywin has settled into the Tower of the Hand to help His Grace set the realm to rights, gods be praised."
"Gods be praised," Tyrion repeated hollowly. His bloody father and bloody Littlefinger and Renly's ghost?
My bad, Sansa's chapter isn't the last time we hear about Renly's ghost.
Lord Littlefinger getting the bulk of the credit. God, that has to sting.
+.+.+
Tyrion seized the lad's wrist. "Ser Mandon?"
The boy flinched. "I n-never meant to k-k-k-k-"
"Dead? You're, certain? Dead?"
Singing maids, and dead men that might not be dead. Jon has the next page.
Final thoughts:
That was 15 chapters of hell, and somehow I'm not even halfway.
24 down, 25 to go. :(
-> return to menu <-
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Tag game!
Name five celebrities you crush on (whether the crush is romantic/sensual/aesthetic/talent-envy or what-have-you) and tag a random number of folks to do the same!
I was tagged by my adorable friend @not-falling-but-sauntering-down ! 😍
I have several big ones, and quite a few medium-sized ones but just from looking around my Tumblr, you’d probably have guessed my biggest K-love of them all:
1. Hyun Bin
I first laid eyes on Binnie in the movie "A millionaire's first love" when he appeared on my screen as Kang Jae-Kyung, a typical rich guy. Swoon.
It was possibly the saddest movie I had the privilege of watching, but his face, with his long hair, was adorable. And those Dimples...
So. Darn. Cute.
I liked him a lot, but it wasn’t love. Yet. 😉
Then I saw the Secret Garden kdrama, and it was the beginning of the end. 😅
I was smitten, and immediately went on a Hyun Bin hunt. I've seen all the series and films from 2006 to here. Of course I went through several interviews and everything I found on YouTube. Up to this point, I was fully in awe of Hyun Bin’s onscreen charisma, his fabulous acting chops, his handsome face and his very, very delicious physique. And the clincher: he’s nice and considerate towards other actors and all the fans.
Manly, gentle and sweet Hyun Bin. He is my one big K-love. ♥
My new crush is another Korean actor.
2. Ju Ji Hoon
I love Hyena and, although I didn't fall in love with Ju Ji Hoon right away, I was very, very impressed with him. I find him completely committed to the role and I love the intensity he shows in the character he plays.
Then I saw on Netflix that Kingdom 2 was about to start and that Ju Ji Hoon was the main actor. I immediately went to see the first season and then the second season. I became obsessed with Ju Ji-hoon. I don't think they could have chosen a better actor to represent the strong leader and kind prince. His magnetic screen presence, oodles of badass charisma, and a complete commitment to the role that was devoid of vanity. His commitment to each character makes us stick to the screen without wanting to look away for a second. Which is a type of brilliance all its own.
I mean, not only is he a full-on, everything-into-the-role, no-vanity intense kind of actor, he’s also smoking hot and completely swoon-worthy, with sexy, manly charisma in those 188,7cm.
3. Justin Furstenfeld
Justin Furstenfeld is a artist, author, and the lead singer, guitarist, and lyricist of the rock band Blue October. My favorite band.
Justin resides in San Marcos, Texas. His vocal and performance style has been likened to Peter Gabriel, Genesis and "Fish" of Marillion but is more manly to me. I have all of Blue October albuns and listening to their music is always the highlight of my day.
4. Shin Min Ha
Shin Min Ha is, for me, the most beautiful Korean actress. Since I saw her on Oh My Venus, I have been completely in love with her. A film or series with her is the only thing I need to be interested in seeing.
5. Keira Knightley
Keira Knightley is a goddess for me. I love her. I see everything with her. My Elisabeth Bennet.
Atonement is one of my favorite films with her but I have seen it all and I think she is extraordinary and brilliant.
And that's it, folks. Too much, perhaps. 😅😝
Tagging anyone who wants to do this and (no pressure). @your-sophie18 @no1readsmyblog @k-dramalaland @mel-loves-kdramas
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