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anechomirrored · 8 months

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Prompt: "Do you recognize this?"

Fandom: Darkest Dungeon

Rating: G

Warning: mild body horror

he rain continued its assult on the dilapidated Hamlet. My boots had soaked through over an hour ago but there was much to be done in light of our recent expeditions.

We needed more able minds and bodies, Dismas and the others were steadfast but the ruins were taking a toll on them.

Caunter had returned broken. She jumped at every sound and would cry out suddenly much to the distress of the others. Reynauld tried to comfort her but it was clear she needed sanctuary.

They all did in one form or another.

Approaching the stagecoach, I was pleased to see word had traveled. Four souls had lined up upon my arrival for inspection. I greeted them and studied each in their own turn.

A barbarian, a grave robber, an antiquarian and....

I stopped in front of the fourth. He was a man in his thirties though his condition could have him mistaken for much older. Hunched,balding and without proper clothes. He instead wore an entaglement of chains. A prisoner? A beggar?

No.

An A had been ruthlessly branded into the side of his head. He trembled a bit though I could see he was trying his best to stay at attention as the others had.

I asked him his name.

It was Machault.

Until now he had kept his hands concealed under a ragged cloak that hung from his shoulders. A pitiful defense against the elements.

His veins pulsed with a greenish ichor.

" You've traveled far and from experience, I know the journey here is unkind." I searched each face as I spoke, "Please come into the tavern. We will take a meal together and discuss your potential employment. Order what you wish. There is gold enough in my pockets for your satiation."

Beer, whiskey, bread, meat and cheese. Plates and pints were placed before each of them and like starved hounds they devoured it all greedily. I made my rounds, stopping to speak with each of them. Unlike the last coach full these were souls I could hire more readily.

Neot was fierce, powerful and blunt. She was finishing her fourth beer as we agreed on her wages.

Pithou had the appearance of a scarecrow with her flat topped hat and straw blond hair but a few words with her and I knew she would rival Dismas.

Good fortune thus far.

It was the last two I was unsure of.

I started with the antiquarian. Thorel was a woman after my own heart. She too was a young budding academic though her taste for the occult ran much deeper than mine. Like with Canaigres, I could see both the benefit of her intrests and the risk. Still our conversation revealed she was well tempered and took percautions when delving into such arts. I accepted her offer to join up but before we parted she spoke again.

"Machault, I spent most of the journey here speaking with him. He, his affliction is....off putting but please consider him just as you have the others. He has much to offer and I believe that this call to a purpose is what he truly needs." She drained her pint and unsteadily made her way to the door.

Machault.

He was in a corner keeping out of sight. I approached the table withe two more pints and a well rounded plate. His first plate was spotless, as he had left not a single crumb behind. I offered the second plate and a pint as I sat down acoss from him and after a hesitant acceptance he hungrily began eating once more though with more composure so as to be polite. I took the other pewter flagon and drank deeply. The questions I was about to ask were no small thing.

" How does this work?" I asked.

Machault did not dismiss my question dispite its rudimentary delivery. He finished swallowing and looked at his hands before him on the table.

"Do you recognize this? What it means?" He asked.

"In part."I watched him nodding.

He turned his hands over studying them as if deciphering the map his veins carved beneath his flesh.

"Though I may not appear so, I am strong. I can fight for you as a man or as...as a...with this." He once again let the putrid veins become visable under his skin.

Canaigres would be all over this man. The Occultist certainly would ask more specifically and openly about Machault's condition than I.

"You can do that on command? When you fight with that?" I gestured to his hands which were once again Ichorless and human.

"Can you control it? Or will it control you?" That was the main thing I needed to know if he was indiscriminate then I'd have him back on the stagecoach immediately.

He paused in thought, then looked up at me. His eyes were black pools, the irises and whites devoured.

" I do not have interest in harming your hirlings D'Esperer. Both the man and beast agree, it is the evil and the twisted beings we wish to kill." His voice was lower more resinous.

My mouth was agape dispite my desperate reach for composure.

"W-well, I...." I wanted to look away but those eyes held me.

" Your family is used to the creatures better left forgotten." Rumbled the new voice, "Besides Thorel I think you may be only one who hasn't screamed at my introduction." With this, Machault abruptly put his head down breaking our locked gaze.

When he looked back he was shaking slightly and his eyes were human and remorseful once more.

"Forgive me My Lady." His voice was once again soft with a light wheeze at the end of some of his syllables.

The change didn't help the fact that my mouth was still open so like any good adventurer would, I placed my flagon to it and to one of the deepest draughts of my life.

Machault continued as I did so.

" In order to gain your trust I thought it best to let you hear it from both of us, though upon reflection you may have taken it better if I'd answered first." By this time I had found my tongue at the bottom of the pint.

" So there are two seperate beings then yes?" My horror, fascination and need to know for business were tumbling over one another for priority.

"Well, not exactly mum, you see I know what is going on in both forms. I...I am always Machault... its just the nature of my...other side... is a bit primordial, if you will. Instinctual impulses and less care for human politics but as you heard from that side and as I am telling you now. I am not interested in disturbing the peace of the world anymore than I already do...but if I am to be what I am then I want to do some good in this world." Partway through his affirmation he had subconciously put a hand to the brand on his head.

Its meaning was not commonly known but anyone who'd studied eldritch lore knew of the experiments carried out by thosewho felt their pursuits were above morality. Those...as I had recently learned like my Grandfather.

"The house behind this tavern has been turned into our current barracks. Bottom floor is mostly communal quarters:kitchen, messhall, living area. Considering your condition... might I suggest you take the room on the left of the entryway. It's simple but distanced from the others. I have a feeling you may perfer that." His expression had gone from solomn, to surprised and now was accompanied by short and eager nods.

"Ye-Yes Miss! I mean- M' Lady, I.. I -" I held up a hand.

" If you lose control, even once I will dismiss you. Is that clear?" He verbally agreed in an unsettling mingling of the two voices and part of me shuddered inside.

I finished discussing his terms and wages and left him to a third meal on the house. I kept my steps steady.

The beast smells your fear but admires your courage. That voice again...his voice.

I left the bar and sought out Dismas and Reynauld.

#fictober23 #darkest dungeon #abomination darkest dungeon #abomination #the heiress

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branwendaughterofllyr · 2 years

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Branwen reads ASOIAF (again) - AGOT JON I

It’s finally time for Jonny boy. Turns out he is a mess and a half.

The boy is left without adult supervision for half an hour, and he is about to get wasted.

There were times—not many, but a few—when Jon Snow was glad he was a bastard. As he filled his wine cup once more from a passing flagon, it struck him that this might be one of them.

What are the benefits of being a bastard? Unmonitored alcohol consumption by a minor. (Also, if we get a similar version of this line for a different situation, I’ll cackle.”There were times - not many, but a few- when Jon was glad he was a Targaryen”)

The best bit of descriptive writing award for this chapter really has to go to the paragraph describing the Great Hall.

The Great Hall of Winterfell was hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread. Its grey stone walls were draped with banners. White, gold, crimson: the direwolf of Stark, Baratheon’s crowned stag, the lion of Lannister. A singer was playing the high harp and reciting a ballad, but down at this end of the hall his voice could scarcely be heard above the roar of the fire, the clangor of pewter plates and cups, and the low mutter of a hundred drunken conversations.

Listen, I am an absolute slut for the food porn in these books. I own the official A Feast of Ice and Fire cookbook and I cook from it regularly. Give me more, George.

Also, I love that the atmosphere is so visceral, the dull roar of all the noise, with smoke and food. Love it!

Also, not pictured is Sansa going absolutely feral over the singer after Jon leaves. Between the prince, and singer, and no doubt her best dress, the kid must have been this close to passing out from sheer joy the whole time.

(I’m pretty sure this singer is NOT Mance, since the high harp is not his instrument of choice, but correct me if I’m wrong.)

It was the fourth hour of the welcoming feast laid for the king.

Damn, I would have probably tapped out by this point if I’d been drinking as much as Jon is. Especially if I was 14.

Jon’s brothers and sisters had been seated with the royal children, beneath the raised platform where Lord and Lady Stark hosted the king and queen.

lol, the children’s table. Good to know family dinners never change.

In honor of the occasion, his lord father would doubtless permit each child a glass of wine, but no more than that.

And this is the last sensible monitoring of the alcohol consumption of children that we will see for the rest of the books. After this, it’s nothing but swords and wine skins for all the kids!

Down here on the benches, there was no one to stop Jon drinking as much as he had a thirst for. And he was finding that he had a man’s thirst

Look, Jon’s already ahead of the curve. Him and all the other unsupervised teenage boys are also getting drunk.

He was certain that his companions were more entertaining than the king’s offspring.

Sour grapes, Jon? I mean, you’re probably right, but this entire chapter is Jon telling us that he’s totally not jealous! How dare you say that! He’s not crying either, leave him alone.

His lord father had come first, escorting the queen. She was as beautiful as men said. A jeweled tiara gleamed amidst her long golden hair, its emeralds a perfect match for the green of her eyes. His father helped her up the steps to the dais and led her to her seat, but the queen never so much as looked at him. Even at fourteen, Jon could see through her smile.

AH, Cersei and her emeralds. A classic combination. Also, I am absolutely on team “Jon is much more observant and aware than people think” but it’s also possible that Cersei’s smile is so fake everyone can tell. You can pick which one is funnier. Also, I do wonder if there’ll be a future situation where Cersei wishes she had gotten a better look at Jon Snow.

Next had come King Robert himself, with Lady Stark on his arm. The king was a great disappointment to Jon. His father had talked of him often: the peerless Robert Baratheon, demon of the Trident, the fiercest warrior of the realm, a giant among princes. Jon saw only a fat man, red-faced under his beard, sweating through his silks. He walked like a man half in his cups.

Jon ABSOLUTELY roasting Robert. But also, I never want anyone to complain about Sansa judging people by their appearances ever again. Look at this boy and his head full of fancy and songs! (This is even funnier when we get to the Jaime description.)

After them came the children. Little Rickon first, managing the long walk with all the dignity a three-year-old could muster. Jon had to urge him on when he stopped to visit.

Awwww, Rickon is too cute. He wanted to stop in the middle to see his brother. Aw.

Close behind came Robb, in grey wool trimmed with white, the Stark colors. He had the Princess Myrcella on his arm. She was a wisp of a girl, not quite eight, her hair a cascade of golden curls under a jeweled net. Jon noticed the shy looks she gave Robb as they passed between the tables and the timid way she smiled at him. He decided she was insipid. Robb didn’t even have the sense to realize how stupid she was; he was grinning like a fool.

Damn, Jon! What did Myrcella ever do to you? Also, look at Jon being bitter and Robb and Myrcella coming up with ways to prove that he’s not bitter, lol. Arya comes up with Tommen, and Jon is neutral lol.

Okay everyone. It's about to happen. Let’s all stay calm. In my personal opinion, George does not start writing Jonsa foreshadowing until the end of AGOT/beginning of ACOK, possibly later. I think that all the examples of Jonsa in AGOT are “hindsight foreshadowing,” something that George notices and goes back to later with his gardening style of writing, like with Janos Slant. That all being said:

Sansa, two years older, drew the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon. He was twelve, younger than Jon or Robb, but taller than either, to Jon’s vast dismay. Prince Joffrey had his sister’s hair and his mother’s deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar. Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey’s pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell’s Great Hall.

RADIANT!?

What a word choice!

I really think this is supposed to be Jon being jealous of Joffrey, who looks just like Jaime (who Jon thinks looks like a king should), trueborn, and a prince expected to inherit everything, and is also taller than him (big lol on Jon being dismayed by that). Joffrey doesn’t even seem to appreciate all he has, and he doesn't appreciate WF, all cardinal strikes to Jon. But Jon can’t actually think about being jealous, because that would mean acknowledging all his feelings, and we can't have that. He’s not hating on Sansa, because she’s not the problem here, Joffrey is. Sansa is absolutely right in the next chapter, Jon *is* jealous because he's a bastard, this entire chapter is all about establishing that Jon is limited by being a bastard.

But also. Calling Sansa radiant is hilarious. And I think George noticed this.

"How is Cersei? As beautiful as ever?""Radiant." Fickle. "Golden." False as fool's gold. Jaime V, AFFC

Teehee.

Look how smoothly that was made into hindsight Jonsa.

He was more interested in the pair that came behind him: the queen’s brothers, the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. The Lion and the Imp; there was no mistaking which was which.

To be far to Jon, it’s basically been confirmed that the only entertainment in WF is Old Nan. This is probably the most exciting thing to happen to Jon, ever.

Ser Jaime Lannister was twin to Queen Cersei; tall and golden, with flashing green eyes and a smile that cut like a knife. He wore crimson silk, high black boots, a black satin cloak. On the breast of his tunic, the lion of his House was embroidered in gold thread, roaring its defiance. They called him the Lion of Lannister to his face and whispered “Kingslayer” behind his back. Jon found it hard to look away from him. This is what a king should look like, he thought to himself as the man passed.

Jon is not immune to appearances. We are all extremely lucky that Jaime never ended up as king, but it’s funny that Jon takes one look at Jaime and thinks “yep, that's what a king should be like.” (Just like Sansa with Cersei,) Also, compare how he describes Jaime to Joffrey, who look very similar and probably are equally disdainful of WF, lol. Also, Jaime is not even bothering to dress like a KG. More hilarity.

I’ll have more to say about the Jaime and Jon parallels when we get there.

Then he saw the other one, waddling along half-hidden by his brother’s side. Tyrion Lannister, the youngest of Lord Tywin’s brood and by far the ugliest. All that the gods had given to Cersei and Jaime, they had denied Tyrion. He was a dwarf, half his brother’s height, struggling to keep pace on stunted legs. His head was too large for his body, with a brute’s squashed-in face beneath a swollen shelf of brow. One green eye and one black one peered out from under a lank fall of hair so blond it seemed white. Jon watched him with fascination.

Leave Tyrion alone Jon. He’s been punished enough by being a Lannister. (but in all seriousness I just listened to Peter Dinklage’s promo interview for Cyrano, and he had a lot of interesting things to say about ableism and visibility, so go have a listen if you have some time. Also watch Cyrano. It made me cry.) Jon gets to learn to see pass appearances by meeting people and befriending them, Sansa has to be a child bride and threatened with rape. Basically the same thing!

The last of the high lords to enter were his uncle, Benjen Stark of the Night’s Watch, and his father’s ward, young Theon Greyjoy. Benjen gave Jon a warm smile as he went by. Theon ignored him utterly, but there was nothing new in that.

Love Benjen, but the Jon-Theon rivalry never fails to crack me up. They're foils AND parallels, outsiders who want dad Ned Stark to be proud of them. and also maybe become Starks by marrying Sansa

Jon had started drinking then, and he had not stopped.

he’s fine. No one check on him.

Something rubbed against his leg beneath the table. Jon saw red eyes staring up at him. “Hungry again?” he asked. There was still half a honeyed chicken in the center of the table. Jon reached out to tear off a leg, then had a better idea. He knifed the bird whole and let the carcass slide to the floor between his legs. Ghost ripped into it in savage silence. His brothers and sisters had not been permitted to bring their wolves to the banquet, but there were more curs than Jon could count at this end of the hall, and no one had said a word about his pup. He told himself he was fortunate in that too.

Ghost is a good boi, even when convincing Jon to sneak him food. Also, Jon telling himself that everything fine, and he's not repressing anything!

His eyes stung. Jon rubbed at them savagely, cursing the smoke.

He’s not crying! It’s just the smoke in his eyes!

How do people not realize that Jon’s whole hobby is lying to himself and repressing his emotions? (He gets it from Ned.)

Dogs moved between the tables, trailing after the serving girls. One of them, a black mongrel bitch with long yellow eyes, caught a scent of the chicken. She stopped and edged under the bench to get a share. Jon watched the confrontation. The bitch growled low in her throat and moved closer. Ghost looked up, silent, and fixed the dog with those hot red eyes. The bitch snapped an angry challenge. She was three times the size of the direwolf pup. Ghost did not move. He stood over his prize and opened his mouth, baring his fangs. The bitch tensed, barked again, then thought better of this fight. She turned and slunk away, with one last defiant snap to save her pride. Ghost went back to his meal.

Okay, there’s something going on here. Is this the Greyjoys fucking over WF, Theon specifically? Something to do with the Hound? Generally establishing Jon as a stubborn underdog (wolf?). Something else entirely? Idk.

Jon looked up happily as his uncle Ben put a hand on his head and ruffled his hair much as Jon had ruffled the wolf’s. “Yes,” he said. “His name is Ghost.”

Adorable family. Hope nothing happens to it!

Benjen Stark straddled the bench with long legs and took the wine cup out of Jon’s hand. “Summerwine,” he said after a taste. “Nothing so sweet. How many cups have you had, Jon?” Jon smiled. Ben Stark laughed. “As I feared. Ah, well. I believe I was younger than you the first time I got truly and sincerely drunk.”

This is so funny to me. Drunk teen Jon. And how old was Benjen? I’m assuming he was not being supervised by Lyarra.

His uncle was sharp-featured and gaunt as a mountain crag, but there was always a hint of laughter in his blue-grey eyes.

Great description, but also blue-grey eyes. Hmm. Just thought that was interesting. Also, Benjen goes in the not handsome Stark pile.

Benjen watched Ghost with amusement as he ate his onion. “A very quiet wolf,” he observed. “He’s not like the others,” Jon said. “He never makes a sound. That’s why I named him Ghost. That, and because he’s white. The others are all dark, grey or black.

I mean, we’ll pretend it’s not for foreshadowing reasons. Also, love the reasons the Starklings give for naming their wolves. Jon: “He's white and quiet. I’m naming him Ghost.” Arya is winning (mainly because I named my cat Cleopatra when I was also nine. Me and Arya really are kindred spirits).

“There are still direwolves beyond the Wall. We hear them on our rangings.”

HE’S GOING BEYOND THE WALL, BAY-BEE. We hyped for the Wall plot yet? I am!

Benjen Stark gave Jon a long look. “Don’t you usually eat at table with your brothers?” “Most times,” Jon answered in a flat voice. “But tonight Lady Stark thought it might give insult to the royal family to seat a bastard among them.” “I see.”

Cateyn is both right and wrong. Wrong for excluding Jon, but absolutely right that Jon would be taken as insult, especially by Cersei. The chances of her pitching a fit if a bastard was seated with them are far from zero.

His uncle glanced over his shoulder at the raised table at the far end of the hall. “My brother does not seem very festive tonight.” Jon had noticed that too. A bastard had to learn to notice things, to read the truth that people hid behind their eyes.

Sure wish the show remembered this. Also, whenever Jon is purposely obtuse, it’s him burying it. Which makes ADWD that much more sad and also kinda funny.

Also, the idea that Jon is forced to be better at reading people as a survival mechanism is interesting to think about. Especially since it seems relevant when comparing him with Robb and Theon. Food for thought.

His father was observing all the courtesies, but there was tightness in him that Jon had seldom seen before. He said little, looking out over the hall with hooded eyes, seeing nothing. Two seats away, the king had been drinking heavily all night. His broad face was flushed behind his great black beard. He made many a toast, laughed loudly at every jest, and attacked each dish like a starving man, but beside him the queen seemed as cold as an ice sculpture. “The queen is angry too,” Jon told his uncle in a low, quiet voice. “Father took the king down to the crypts this afternoon. The queen didn’t want him to go.”

Glad to see that literally no one but Sansa is having a good time (I guess Robb and Myrcella are also vibing). Also Robert pointedly ignoring Cersei while she stews in anger is pretty much their marriage in a nutshell. Amazing she didn’t try to kill him before this.

Benjen gave Jon a careful, measuring look. “You don’t miss much, do you, Jon? We could use a man like you on the Wall.”

Benjen agrees with me! Why is it that one of Jon’s earliest established characteristics always gets ignored?

“Take me with you when you go back to the Wall,” Jon said in a sudden rush. “Father will give me leave to go if you ask him, I know he will.” Uncle Benjen studied his face carefully. “The Wall is a hard place for a boy, Jon.” “I am almost a man grown,” Jon protested. “I will turn fifteen on my next name day, and Maester Luwin says bastards grow up faster than other children.” “That’s true enough,” Benjen said with a downward twist of his mouth.

Benjen is also on the “time for the fourteen year old to man up” wagon, but he’s not as bad as Ned, lol. He thinks Jon is too young still. (Isn’t there a callback to this in the Alayne chapters? I can’t quite remember)

“Daeren Targaryen was only fourteen when he conquered Dorne,” Jon said. The Young Dragon was one of his heroes. “A conquest that lasted a summer,” his uncle pointed out. “Your Boy King lost ten thousand men taking the place, and another fifty trying to hold it. Someone should have told him that war isn’t a game.” He took another sip of wine. “Also,” he said, wiping his mouth, “Daeren Targaryen was only eighteen when he died. Or have you forgotten that part?”

Boy, oh boy. We get introduced to a teenage king losing a war this early on? smells like foreshadowing to me. I mean, we already know where this is going, just pointing it out. Also Jon stanning the Young Dragon is both funny and sad.

“I forget nothing,” Jon boasted. The wine was making him bold. He tried to sit very straight, to make himself seem taller. “I want to serve in the Night’s Watch, Uncle.”

He’s trying to be taller. My boi.

He had thought on it long and hard, lying abed at night while his brothers slept around him. Robb would someday inherit Winterfell, would command great armies as the Warden of the North. Bran and Rickon would be Robb’s bannermen and rule holdfasts in his name. His sisters Arya and Sansa would marry the heirs of other great houses and go south as mistress of castles of their own. But what place could a bastard hope to earn?

Big lol at Arya going south to marry and become mistress of a castle. But also, yeah, what place could a bastard hope to earn? What’s the career plan for Jon, Ned??? Was it always going to be the NW?

“You don’t know what you’re asking, Jon. The Night’s Watch is a sworn brotherhood. We have no families. None of us will ever father sons. Our wife is duty. Our mistress is honor.” “A bastard can have honor too,” Jon said. “I am ready to swear your oath.”

Oh, Jon and honor, the beginning of a storyline we must pay very close attention to.

“You are a boy of fourteen,” Benjen said. “Not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up.” “I don’t care about that!” Jon said hotly. “You might, if you knew what it meant,” Benjen said. “If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son.” Jon felt anger rise inside him. “I’m not your son!” Benjen Stark stood up. “More’s the pity.”

Man, when Benjen is right, he’s right. Jon has no idea what he’s giving up, and its not just about sex. It's everything.

Also, does Benjen know? He might know. Discuss below whether Benjen knows about Jon’s mom or not.

“Come back to me after you’ve fathered a few bastards of your own, and we’ll see how you feel.” Jon trembled. “I will never father a bastard,” he said carefully. “Never!” He spat it out like venom. Suddenly he realized that the table had fallen silent, and they were all looking at him. He felt the tears begin to well behind his eyes. He pushed himself to his feet. “I must be excused,” he said with the last of his dignity. He whirled and bolted before they could see him cry. He must have drunk more wine than he had realized. His feet got tangled under him as he tried to leave, and he lurched sideways into a serving girl and sent a flagon of spiced wine crashing to the floor. Laughter boomed all around him, and Jon felt hot tears on his cheeks. Someone tried to steady him. He wrenched free of their grip and ran, half-blind, for the door. Ghost followed close at his heels, out into the night.

Oh, Jon. That was mortifying. Kudos for not straight up dying of embarrassment like I would have at 14, after basically screaming one of my greatest insecurities, almost crying in front of everyone I know, AND knocking over a waitress with drinks on the way out. You are truly stronger than I.

Also Jon, you just foreshadowed yourself into something. Good luck with never fathering a bastard! Make sure she knows about moon tea.

A lone sentry stood high on the battlements of the inner wall, his cloak pulled tight around him against the cold. He looked bored and miserable as he huddled there alone, but Jon would have traded places with him in an instant.

No wonder after what just happened. Literally everyone is probably talking about you right now.

Otherwise the castle was dark and deserted. Jon had seen an abandoned holdfast once, a drear place where nothing moved but the wind and the stones kept silent about whatever people had lived there. Winterfell reminded him of that tonight.

BAD JON! DOn’t you dare foreshadow the destruction of WF like this. You’re as bad as Ned, I swear.

See, this chapter is full of solid foreshadowing, some of which has come to fruition, some of which has not.

The sounds of music and song spilled through the open windows behind him. They were the last things Jon wanted to hear. He wiped away his tears on the sleeve of his shirt, furious that he had let them fall, and turned to go.

That’s right Jon, shove your emotions down so you don’t have to feel. There’s no way this will backfire.

“Boy,” a voice called out to him. Jon turned. Tyrion Lannister was sitting on the ledge above the door to the Great Hall, looking for all the world like a gargoyle. The dwarf grinned down at him.

Again, I will be pettily remarking on everyone who negatively comments on Tyrion's appearance and don't need to become a hostage child bride.

“What are you doing up there? Why aren’t you at the feast?” “Too hot, too noisy, and I’d drunk too much wine,” the dwarf told him. “I learned long ago that it is considered rude to vomit on your brother.

I always forget that I do like AGOT Tyrion. I know, I know, a crime, but it’s true. I only remember when I’m actually reading AGOT, the rest of the time all I can think about is his downward spiral. Still! This is funny, and I say that mainly because I’ve said almost the exact same thing in my life, and I’d like to cling to the delusion that I am funny.

Might I have a closer look at your wolf?” Jon hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Can you climb down, or shall I bring a ladder?” “Oh, bleed that,” the little man said. He pushed himself off the ledge into empty air. Jon gasped, then watched with awe as Tyrion Lannister spun around in a tight ball, landed lightly on his hands, then vaulted backward onto his legs.

WTF!?

This is the first and last we shall see of acrobat Tyrion. We get a light retcon about it in ADWD, but other than that, we will never see him again.

Talk about early installment weirdness.

Ghost backed away from him uncertainly. The dwarf dusted himself off and laughed. “I believe I’ve frightened your wolf. My apologies.” “He’s not scared,” Jon said. He knelt and called out. “Ghost, come here. Come on. That’s it.” The wolf pup padded closer and nuzzled at Jon’s face, but he kept a wary eye on Tyrion Lannister, and when the dwarf reached out to pet him, he drew back and bared his fangs in a silent snarl. “Shy, isn’t he?” Lannister observed.

Ghost disliking Tyrion is very funny and not talked about enough. Trust the wolf. Always trust the wolf. This seems like solid Jon vs. Tyrion foreshadowing for the future.

“Sit, Ghost,” Jon commanded. “That’s it. Keep still.” He looked up at the dwarf. “You can touch him now. He won’t move until I tell him to. I’ve been training him.” “I see,” Lannister said. He ruffled the snow-white fur between Ghost’s ears and said, “Nice wolf.” “If I wasn’t here, he’d tear out your throat,” Jon said. It wasn’t actually true yet, but it would be. “In that case, you had best stay close,” the dwarf said.

We can only hope! Also, prehistoric killing machines that are also just there for the Starklings to love on.

“You’re Ned Stark’s bastard, aren’t you?” Jon felt a coldness pass right through him. He pressed his lips together and said nothing. “Did I offend you?” Lannister said. “Sorry. Dwarfs don’t have to be tactful. Generations of capering fools in motley have won me the right to dress badly and say any damn thing that comes into my head.” He grinned. “You are the bastard, though.” “Lord Eddard Stark is my father,” Jon admitted stiffly. Lannister studied his face. “Yes,” he said. “I can see it. You have more of the north in you than your brothers.” “Half brothers,” Jon corrected. He was pleased by the dwarf’s comment, but he tried not to let it show.

Look! Jon calling the other Starklings his half-brothers! Not just that, but correcting Tyrion when he calls them his brothers. Tell me how Sansa is evil for calling him her half brother instead of her bastard brother again?

Also, this further confirms my theory that this entire chapter is about establish Jon's great overarching internal struggles. He doesn’t want to be a bastard, but he still loves his brothers, he likes it when people compare him to Ned, but he can’t covet what belongs to his brother, but he wants, but he's a bastard-

You see where this goes.

“Let me give you some counsel, bastard,” Lannister said. “Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.”

Look. Sometimes Tyrion gives decent advice. We all have to live with this. And Tyrion genuinely does show a lot of unselfish kindness and compassion for Jon, and later Bran. AGOT is really peak Tyrion. And this is indeed really solid advice. Jon is really just going to have to deal with his bastardy because it’s inescapable in Westeros.

Jon was in no mood for anyone’s counsel. “What do you know about being a bastard?” “All dwarfs are bastards in their father’s eyes.” “You are your mother’s trueborn son of Lannister.” “Am I?” the dwarf replied, sardonic. “Do tell my lord father. My mother died birthing me, and he’s never been sure.”

We’ll talk about Tyrion and Tywin. Just not right now. Also, if Tyrion is a Targaryen bastard, Varys is a mermaid.

“I don’t even know who my mother was,” Jon said. “Some woman, no doubt. Most of them are.” He favored Jon with a rueful grin.

HMMMMM

I wonder.

“Remember this, boy. All dwarfs may be bastards, yet not all bastards need be dwarfs.” And with that he turned and sauntered back into the feast, whistling a tune. When he opened the door, the light from within threw his shadow clear across the yard, and for just a moment Tyrion Lannister stood tall as a king.

AND THUS, a thousand theories about King Tyrion are born.

So, final thoughts. I feel Jon's entire storyline is heavily foreshadowed in this storyline. This is like three characters who I feel like we can say their opening chapters were mini-journeys through their stories. Jon is broody boy with a whole complex about being a bastard and Not-A-Stark(tm), and he has foreshadowed himself into some trouble.

#branwen reads asoioaf again #Jon I #AGOT

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thegothicera · 6 months

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Pewter flagon, German, late 15th century

#gothic #medieval #metalwork

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providencepeakrp · 8 months

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Join us at the Artisans’ Market and explore the fabulous vendors on offer!

The Round Table Tavern

Need a break between quests? Say no more! Whether you’re in want of a hearty lunch or a large flagon of mead, The Round Table has you covered. The taven will be set up at the heart of the faire, where you can take part in a selection of drinks tastings and contests to test your constitution as a knight. They also offer a variety of nonalcoholic treats for those who prefer to remember their visit, such as pumpkin juice, hot apple cider, cocoa and tea.

Fantastical Fineries

Whether you want to get dressed up but you didn’t have anything at home or you’re simply looking to add to your neverending wardrobe, Fantastical Fineries is the stall for you! Throughout the faire they will be offering a wide range of clothing, costumes and accessories, available to rent or buy.

Tinker’s Anvil

A good knight is nothing without their gear. At Tinker’s Anvil you can find a stunning collection of chainmail, armour, and hand-forged weapons for sale, along with demonstrations by local blacksmiths as they craft their work right before your very eyes! (Please bear in mind that weapons sold are intended purely for decorative use. Use of these swords for LARPing or re-enactments may end poorly).

The Apothecary

Makers of fine potions, mystical brews, and enchanting charms to sooth the soul! The Apothecary boasts a wide range of locally crafted perfumes, handmade soaps, fragrant candles, and bath products.

Silver Lining

Looking for that perfect glittering accessory to go with your costume? Silver Lining’s got you covered! Stepping back in time with a limited line of pewter jewelery produced for the faire and their usual array of sparkling jewels, there’s no better place to hunt down a hoard of treasure.

The Glass Gargoyle

Offering demonstrations every hour, The Glass Gargoyle is the finest glass blower in the west. Here you can learn about the age old art of glassmaking and discover an extraordinary collection of handblown figurines, vases, and ornaments.

Faire Fortunes

Searching for your destiny? Swing by the fortune teller’s tent to get a glimpse of what fate has in store for you. Offering readings through palmistry, crystal ball gazing, and tarot cards, your path ahead will never be clearer.

Sustenance!

Food truck vendors will be on standby all week for attendees to enjoy. Alongside the usual festival suspects, there will be a host of vegetarian and vegan options, as well as medieval themed delicacies to try such as giant turkey legs, scotch eggs, and steaks on a stick.

#providence.event

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azukailgames · 2 months

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D10: Find on a Fantasy Street

© Azukail Games Streets in a fantasy setting do have things that could be found on them. Here are ten things, almost completely without value, that could be found, and they are more likely to be found in the poorer sections of town. Bent copper coin. Bloated corpse of a dead rat. Broken wagon wheel. Crude wooden doll with a disturbing expression. Crushed pewter flagon. Pool of recently spilled…

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#GameMaster&039;s Resource

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periodicoirreverentes · 6 months

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MUSEO IRREVERENTES: “Still Life with a Pewter Flagon and Two Ming Bowls” (1651)

Jan Treck (c.1606-1652)Óleo sobre lienzo,76.5 x 63.8 cmNational Gallery (Londres, Reino Unido)

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#Jan Treck #Museo Irreverentes

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astradrifting · 3 years

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AGOT - Jon I (Chapter 5)

There were times—not many, but a few—when Jon Snow was glad he was a bastard. As he filled his wine cup once more from a passing flagon, it struck him that this might be one of them.

I don’t know why D&D decided Jon could never lie, when literally the first line in his POV is a lie. He’s so good at it he can even lie to himself!

****

A singer was playing the high harp and reciting a ballad, but down at this end of the hall his voice could scarcely be heard above the roar of the fire, the clangor of pewter plates and cups, and the low mutter of a hundred drunken conversations.

A singer with a high harp and a ballad seems like a vague Rhaegar allusion. That Jon can’t actually hear him makes me happy in a very petty way.

****

I think this part is actually Jon being indignant on Ned’s behalf that Cersei was rude to him, by not looking at him when he escorts her, not that she never looked at Jon. Also, there’s those observation skills. He’s never been taken in by a pretty smile.

****

After them came the children. Little Rickon first, managing the long walk with all the dignity a three-year-old could muster. Jon had to urge him on when he stopped to visit.

Adorable!!!

****

Jon noticed the shy looks she gave Robb as they passed between the tables and the timid way she smiled at him. He decided she was insipid. Robb didn’t even have the sense to realize how stupid she was; he was grinning like a fool.

Jon’s a mean drunk I guess 💀

****

Joffrey according to Jon: 👁👄👁

But Sansa looked radiant 🥰

****

He was more interested in the pair that came behind him: the queen’s brothers, the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. The Lion and the Imp; there was no mistaking which was which. Ser Jaime Lannister was twin to Queen Cersei; tall and golden, with flashing green eyes and a smile that cut like a knife. He wore crimson silk, high black boots, a black satin cloak. On the breast of his tunic, the lion of his House was embroidered in gold thread, roaring its defiance. They called him the Lion of Lannister to his face and whispered “Kingslayer” behind his back. Jon found it hard to look away from him.

This is what a king should look like, he thought to himself as the man passed.

Giving me big ‘muscled like a maiden’s fantasy’ vibes there, Jon.

Also, curiously enough Jaime’s introduced wearing black and red, Targaryen colours. Maybe a nod to the incest storyline, possibly leftover foreshadowing from when Jaime was going to become king, as per the outline.

Otherwise this means that, like everybody else in this story, Jaime is a secret Targaryen. He and Cersei can join the ranks of Jon, Tyrion, Varys, Mance Rayder and while we’re at it… *spins a wheel of names* Meera too.

****

His brothers and sisters had not been permitted to bring their wolves to the banquet, but there were more curs than Jon could count at this end of the hall, and no one had said a word about his pup. He told himself he was fortunate in that too.

His eyes stung. Jon rubbed at them savagely, cursing the smoke.

Jon spends half this chapter on the verge of tears, my angsty little lad.

****

Jon looked up happily as his uncle Ben put a hand on his head and ruffled his hair much as Jon had ruffled the wolf’s.

They actually call him Ben and ‘uncle Ben’ a few times in the series, which I honestly think might be a Spider-Man allusion. Surrogate father figure Uncle Ben’s early disappearance/death kicking off the plot… There’s also a saying that nobody stays dead in comics except for Uncle Ben - considering all the other resurrections in the books, metaphorical and literal, yet GRRM says that Benjen isn’t Coldhands, it might be the same for this Uncle Ben too.

****

Jon swelled with pride. “Robb is a stronger lance than I am, but I’m the better sword, and Hullen says I sit a horse as well as anyone in the castle.”

"[Garlan] is a great knight," Ser Loras replied. "A better sword than me, in truth, though I'm the better lance." (ASOS, Sansa I)

Love a Jon-Garlan parallel! Also thinking about Garlan being the older brother made me realise - in the story everyone thinks that Jon is younger than Robb, but timeline-wise, he has to be older, because Robb was conceived in the two weeks before Ned left to fight at the Trident, and Rhaegar must have at least already been in the capital by then to rally the loyalists, so Jon was conceived weeks, if not months earlier. Which means that Ned has definitely lied about when Jon’s birthday is.

Jon being the product of a ‘youthful indiscretion’ before he was married is less of a stain on Ned’s honour than him betraying his marriage bed but I imagine Catelyn’s fears about Jon usurping her children might have had more basis if he was known to be the eldest, so maybe that’s why Ned lied about how old he is.

****

“Daeron Targaryen was only fourteen when he conquered Dorne,” Jon said. The Young Dragon was one of his heroes.

"A conquest that lasted a summer," his uncle pointed out. "Your Boy King lost ten thousand men taking the place, and another fifty trying to hold it. Someone should have told him that war isn't a game." He took another sip of wine. "Also," he said, wiping his mouth, "Daeron Targaryen was only eighteen when he died. Or have you forgotten that part?"

Jon is unfortunately, a jock. And a bit of an idiot.

There’s something about Jon’s hero dying at 18, Waymar dying at 18 just a few chapters ago... Jon has them all beat by dying at 17.

****

"You are a boy of fourteen," Benjen said. "Not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up."

"I don't care about that!" Jon said hotly.

"You might, if you knew what it meant," Benjen said. "If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son."

Jon felt anger rise inside him. "I'm not your son!"

Benjen Stark stood up. “More’s the pity.”

Establishing Benjen as a somewhat contentious father figure to Jon - even more fuel for my brand new Uncle Ben ‘theory’.

****

The wolf pup padded closer and nuzzled at Jon's face, but he kept a wary eye on Tyrion Lannister, and when the dwarf reached out to pet him, he drew back and bared his fangs in a silent snarl.

"Shy, isn't he?" Lannister observed.

"Sit, Ghost," Jon commanded. "That's it. Keep still." He looked up at the dwarf. "You can touch him now. He won't move until I tell him to. I've been training him."

Possibly he and Sansa are the only ones who properly trained their direwolves, considering how the rest of them will end up behaving.

****

“If I wasn’t here, he’d tear out your throat,” Jon said. It wasn’t actually true yet, but it would be.

Pffffft! Edgy edgy edge-lord 💀

Though I also always feel like issuing casual threats to Tyrion Lannister so I can’t really blame him.

****

Standing, he was taller than the dwarf. It made him feel strange.

He’s got a weird preoccupation with comparing his height to Lannister men in this chapter. My headcanon for the books is that Jon’s quite tall by ADWD but evidently he’s tiny in AGOT if he feels strange being tall next to a dwarf.

****

final thoughts:

Believe it or not, I didn’t actually have Jonsa in mind with my new Uncle Ben theory, but I did just remember that brown haired Peter Parker’s main love interest is red-haired MJ :P

#astra re-reads #agot re-read #jon chapters

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