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vampzyke · 8 months

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୨୧ , jon snow x FEM!reader. ( 1.7k )

imagine... you, a young servant of house stark, teaching jon snow the sweet, yet innocent act of kissing. and finding out just how eager he is to learn.

tags making out, crush, innocence, first kiss, friends to lovers, season 1

AS NIGHT FALLS throughout Winterfell, lit lamps wither away along with the hushed whispers of winds. It's a melody you wish to hear more often as your stay here in the North begins to drag.

More often than not, your ears tend to ache at the shutters of metal against one another when frequenting the Forge; or when tasked by one of the Stark children to fetch an apple, where you're greeted by a dozen women huddled together in secret, gossiping to one another about Winterfell's latest whore. You loved the girls dearly, but feared that maybe one day you would be the topic of their conversation.

With a content smile, you inhale greatly and exhale with ease as you sit outside the kitchens back in the brittle cold. Your surroundings are empty of others, only the wind to keep you company. Even as you feel your chest start to tighten around your lungs at the cool air, you stay seated and grateful for the silence on this star-filled night.

Eyeing the various critters crawling about, you jump at the laboured breathing of an animal ahead of you in the depths of the forest, before the small stature of a direwolf pup stumbles its way out of the ominous shadows and towards you. You hadn't noticed it at first, the thick white coat of fur complemented its snowy surroundings.

As the wolf yields closer in clumsy strides, your eyes widen in knowing as those red orbs of it become clearer.

The name of his is faint on your lips, "Ghost?". And before your limble frame is aware, the pup has thrown his warmth onto your lap. You giggle in turn, scratching earnestly at the back of Ghosts' ear just the way he prefers it.

The way Jon does it.

As you busy your hands with the pup, your shallow breaths forgotten as the cold seeps into your skin, you glance around the woods in hopes of finding the brute man you dream off.

"Now tell me, Ghost. Just where is your broody friend?" You ask the pup, who in turn just laps messily at your face. Distracted, you fail to hear the large boots of the man you mustn't fancy, and the sudden dip of the floorboards beneath you.

"Behind," A gravelly voice huffs out against the back of your exposed neck. The finest of hairs stand on edge as you're suddenly aware of the warmth intruding in on your space, like a lone fire in the depths of Winterfell's worst nights.

You're yet to yelp in shock, accustomed to Jon's dire way of greeting you. He took joy in teasing the poor servant girl who never thought to send out a complaint to Lord Stark; to which the man took great advantage of, you were his only friend after all. Whom else could he mess around with other than his elder brother, Robb?

"Y/N, you're practically naked with those kitchen rags on," he sighs, Jon is no longer crouched behind you, and instead stands tall in all his glory besides you. You still have not uttered a word to him yet, nor could you now. As you gaze up his length, your jaw slacks unwillingly at the sight of him.

Some days you found yourself enamoured with House Stark's bastard son.

You, along with a maiden of Lady Sansa's, spent your breaks eye-fucking him from across the courtyard as he trained with his brother. Jon would dorne tight clothing on those days which defined his toned arms in the sun's favourable rays. The sweat would glisten against his flushed skin; it was, oh so tempting to just lick off. The two of you girls would let out boisterous laughs at the dirty idea from where you sat on the courtyard's curb. And before long another servant would pull you by your ear angrily, complaining about time and whatnot as you would spare one last glance at Jon before tasked with yet another bore chore.

Only during his and Robb's spars would he acknowledge you in public. Robb was the only Stark who knew of his brother and your friendship; he was positive the people of Winterfell would talk if Ned's bastard son and a poor servant girl were out frolicking together. So Robb kept quiet. He never commented on it and never thought to spare a look at you. You were sure he hated you.

Jon reassured you that the eldest Stark son just loved to be a dick, and was most likely jealous of the fact that he had another to call a friend; in Robb's words, 'a fine lady'.

You had blushed at his words.

Robb Stark was a fine man, you along with all of Winterfell knew this. You would have to have your eyes gouged out to not see it.

But now, as your eyes trail Jon's stoic form, your heart beats with a skip in its mellow thump. Jons face never gives away his emotions, though maybe that is exactly what you find endearing about the young man. He stares down at you with a look of tiredness, stripping himself of his fur coat.

You raise an eyebrow at him, protesting, "I have no need of your coat Jon, it is fine!" You reassure all too easily, though the chattering of your teeth gives you away. Jon clicks his tongue, before draping the large warmth of his coat over your smaller stature.

"It does not seem like it." He shrugs, avoiding your teary eyes from the cold. All you could do was hum in acknowledgement, mind hazy at the thought of him giving you his coat in worry. Your face flushes, though Jon is all too ignorant as he decides to sit beside you on the curb, watching off into the distance with a brief frown.

Suddenly, Ghost nudges you with a dirtied paw towards Jon, as if on purpose. You shake your head at the silly idea. Without realising, you let out a whisper of a giggle.

"What is it?" Jon turns to face you now, and as you sneak a glance you catch the faintest of freckles gathered around either corners of his eyes and how his mess of dark hair curls to frame his pale face. You realise suddenly, just how close he is.

Jon does not seem to notice, or perhaps he does, but has no concern over it.

With strained confidence and courage from a white paw, you shuffle ever so slightly closer to Jon. The man just stares at you with a look you cannot describe, and a terrible feeling gnaws within you. Why must he just stare? Is that a look of disgust? Oh, what am I doing?

Battling your inner turmoil, you miss the way Jon looks you up and down, biting his bottom lip as if instinct when he stares upon your beautiful face.

"Y/N?" He says it almost too quietly, but his breath fans your face with how close the two of you are now. It is silent all around, even the whistles of the wind do not interrupt this moment. You turn to face him fully now, though the bottom half of your face stays well hidden beneath the large heaps of fur. You are embarrassed yet intrigued to know what Jon chooses to do next.

With his index finger, he tugs lightly at the fur beside your cheek, testing the water. You continue to stare dumbly, as he asks shyly, "May I?".

The words are stuck in your throat at the sudden vulnerability from him. You have never seen this side of Jon before. As you go to nod, he almost pulls back with a hitch in his breath with how long you take to respond.

Hastily, you shout out, "Yes! Yes." He does not look convinced even as you tug the fur down to reveal a timid smile. He returns it, though the ends do not meet his eyes.

You let out a sigh. You had ruined your chance with Jon Snow.

Then, as if waiting for the drama, you felt a push from behind you. You did not need to see to know who exactly it was. Ghosts' tiny paw nudged you once more, as if the pup was irritated at this charade.

With another ounce of confidence, you grabbed either side of Jons questioning face. You could feel the roughness of his beard, and that was all it took for you to regain your composure before looking up at him through glazed lashes.

"Jon," you spoke. He waited with uncertainty as your grip on his face loosened. "Is this okay?"

All he could manage was a slight nod, distracted by your enchanting eyes.

"Okay." You repeated, before leaning down to meet his bruised lips. From the way he sat rigid against you, you were sure this was his first kiss. Soon you were worried though there was no protest from his end. It seemed as though Jon wanted you to lead. And as his tongue swiped over your top lip, you took that as your confirmation.

With not an ounce of shame, you shuffled to sit on his lap, wrapping your thighs around his fine torso. Now comfortably, you began to deepen the kiss with your tongue. Your hands moved away from his face and found themselves tangled within his hair. And with growing confidence, Jon soon wrapped his arms around the bottom of your waist, nearing your ass. His fingers teased at the fabric there, unsure.

As your tongues danced together, you dragged a palm down his front sensually, to which he let out a pitiful moan you could not help but swallow, before stopping atop of his uncertain hand above your waist. With loving guidance, you moved his hand ever so slightly towards the plump of your butt. His thick yet lanky fingers grazed against it, and with uncertainty he pressed down at the soft flesh. You were still clothed, but you could feel the heat emitting from his fingers.

You gasped into the kiss, pulling back for needed air.

"Was it something I did, Y/N?" Jon asked with worry. You could only laugh at the young man and his wary conclusions. With a shake of your head, inhaling the cool air to steady yourself, you whispered. "Not at all, Snow."

The corner of his lips tugged upwards with ease; and all you could do was watch with a feeling of need sprouting within you. You were eager for this man to ravage you, though there was a lot to teach.

There was no sound of complaint from you, as you felt him knead your ass with certainty.

Jon was a quick learner, after all.

#jon snow #jon snow x reader #asoiaf x reader #got x reader #got imagine #asoiaf imagine #fem reader #jon snow imagine #jon snow x you #jon snow drabble #x reader #fanfiction #got fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones x you

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danytherelentless · 8 months

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A Heartfelt Goodbye

Eddard Stark x fem!reader

summary: after his wife's recent passing, Lord Stark is looking for a governess to raise his children

warnings! smut, cunniligus, p in v, pre-marital sex (big deal in Westeros), asoiaf typical sexism (if you squint)

word count: 3k

note: please forgive me if there are any mistakes or it appears a little disjointed, the editing was shaky at best

It was more than a year after the loss of his wife that he decided to take on a governess for his children.

He had refused marriage so soon after, and did not think he would ever take a wife again, and had not wanted to have a governess raise his children for it felt an insult to Cat, yet Maester Luwin had been advising him that his children would need such guidance in their lives, especially with them all being so young, and Eddard had finally relented.

He mulled over the options of Northern ladies for some time before deciding upon you. He'd never met you before, but he had known your father, brothers and some of your cousins. Your father had been one of his greatest and truest advisors during Robert's Rebellion, your elder brother one of his friends as well, and he remembers hearing much of you then, though you'd been younger at the time. Patient, caring and wise as a child. Surely you remained so as an adult? You were also unmarried which meant you had no other obligations nor children of your own to tend to. So he sent the letter to your Lord father asking if you would be suited and able to fill such a position in his household.

He received response soon enough and it was settled upon that you would be arriving to Winterfell within the next few weeks.

Your smile was the first thing he noticed upon meeting you, a kind and gentle thing which warmed him to you almost immediately.

"My Lord," you greeted with a curtsy after you had dismounted to stand next to your father and brother who had led you here.

"My Lady. I am thankful you have taken upon this position."

"It is a great honour, my lord. One I hope I shall be able to fulfil."

Robb was the most reluctant of his children to you, though that was expected and understandable as the eldest. His youngest three, however, were instantly enamoured with you, even baby Bran. But it was Jon which made him realise you were perfect for the role whom you treated well as any of his other children.

It took some time of course for the new dynamic to settle, for you to become comfortable with his children and vise-versa, but eventually, even Robb warmed to you. Even Ned himself found that he enjoyed your company. You had to ability to always make him feel at ease or give him the perfect advice for whatever situation he was put in.

He began to fall for you, which felt inevitable given how lovely you were. But he could not help the vicious guilt which he felt. It felt wrong, no matter how much time passed since Cat's passing, it still felt like a great insult to her memory, and to your own honour, though he never acted on his own feelings.

At least not until Robert called upon him when Balon Greyjoy rebelled against the crown.

He sat in the Godswood, the night before he would leave in contemplation. Many of his bannerman had gathered already at Winterfell with more on their way straight to White Harbour. He did not want to die so soon, though that was something he expected just as he had during Robert's Rebellion when he rode away from Riverrun, yet this time it felt so much closer to him. He couldn't bare the thought of Robb being made Lord so young, of his grief. Of the struggle and strife which he would face and the deceit he would no doubt face in spite of his youth. The idea of his little lady Sansa, or his wild little she-wolf Arya not remembering his face as they grew. Of baby Bram not having so much as a memory of him to place to his name.

He thought of you, of never seeing you again, of never confessing the feelings held within his heart. Though his guilt remained to an extent not as it once had, the idea of never getting to tell you made his heart ache something fierce. It overwhelmed any guilt he was feeling.

"My lord," your voice snapped him from his glum pondering.

"My lady. The hour is quite late, the air cold," he could barely see you in the darkness, the only light emitting from the lantern in your hand and the one sitting near his feet.

"I was worried for you," you confessed.

It was a normal thing to worry about. He was beneath no assumption that you felt the same as he, but he knew that you viewed him as a friend for you often spent hours drinking, exchanging stories and laughing well into late evenings together. So much so that he’d had to quietly had to expel rumours amongst the staff to the best of his ability, hoping you had not heard of them. He knew that it was a sign of the impropriety of your relationship, but he just couldn’t bring himself to stop.

"I'll be back soon enough," he found himself reassuring you.

He watches as you walk closer to him, "may I sit?"

"Of course," he spoke embarrassingly quickly.

You took your seat on the tangled roots at his side, shivering slightly as you burrowed closer into your cloak.

"You really shouldn't be out here, my lady. You may catch a chill," he voiced his concern.

"And neither should you. What sort of a friend would I be if I allowed you to wallow out here all alone?" there was teasing in your voice. He found a smile growing across his face.

He looked to you then. You looked truly beautiful in the low light of the flickering lanterns, shadows cast across your face. You seemed quite sad, though he could see a longing in your eyes has he stared at you.

He felt something get trapped in his throat, unable to say anything as he looked upon you. There was a vulnerability which always clung to you, in the way you smiled so freely, the way you spoke so kindly and could be so forgiving. He saw that in you now. Something raw. He craved it, craved you, craved you near him, in his arms. He felt a stirring in the pit of his stomach.

He craved you, completely and utterly. Entirely vulnerable, bare flesh beneath him, moaning for him. His name, not his title, he loved it when you said his name. Not Eddard, just Ned. He wanted to hear it. Now.

He kissed you instead, a hand on your cheek pulling you close to him. Regret flooded him immediately.

"I'm so sorry," he apologised, pulling away, yanking his hand from your flesh, suddenly feeling quite sick. Barely a moment of your lips on his, so sweet and true. The taste turned to ash on his tongue, however.

"That was dishonourable of me, my lady. Forgive me please. I lost myself."

"No," you grabbed at his forearm and moved closer, you leg leaning into his own, "I... I don't mind."

He looks to you then, a goddess at his side. Meant to be worshipped. It was fitting you were both sat beneath a Weirwood tree.

He feels your delicate hand upon his bearded jaw and he allows you to pull him to you, eyes closing as your lips are joined with his.

He can tell you're inexperienced, but he relishes in it. It has been so long since he'd had any company, and he wanted this. With the thought of possible death so close, he could hardly deny himself you, especially if you wanted him too.

He part from you, breathless, "I want you."

He hadn't quite meant to just blurt it out so bluntly, but can't bring himself to want to take it back. It is his truth, after all. And in this moment, it would be wrong for him to not tell you.

You seem shocked for a moment.

"I want you too," you admitted.

His heart stops for a split second before he crashes his mouth back on yours, your tongues tangling together in some dance.

He kisses you for what feels like hours before he remembers you are out in the cold, and then he guides you back to the keep and to your chambers. The walk is silent and you bump into no one, though guards trail you both outside the keep and through some of the hallways.

He is about to part ways with you and leave for his own when you grab his wrist.

"Wait. Why don't you join me?"

Your cheeks are beautifully flushed, and he can hardly refuse such a welcome invitation, though his honour is screaming at him to stop. His desires simply win over, he is a weak man for you.

He undresses you slowly, pulling away your cloak, helping you unlace your dress as you exchange kisses. You help him with his own layers, and soon you are both bare as the day you were born. He looks upon your beauty, across your smooth skin, your breasts, the mound of hair between your legs. He feels his mouth water. He would turn you around and simply sit gazing upon your naked flesh for hours, studying you like a tome of history.

He lays you down upon furs and kisses down your neck, sucking a bruise some too dark into the flesh which he may regret some the next day should he notice, yet he cannot help himself as he listens to your sweet sighs and feels were hands caressing his arms then his chest.

His lips continue down your body, sucking and licking at your breasts and listening to the melodic sounds you bless him with, hands pawing at your thighs as he further parts them. He kisses down you stomach, beneath your bellybutton and then your naval, before finding his place between your legs, eyes upon your cunt, so close to him and oh so delectable.

"What are you..." your sentence is broken by a surprised and quiet moan as his tongue parts your folds and tastes your sweetness. He licks and sucks at you observing each reaction from his place which he could. Every twitch which you body made and every sound which left your lips. Ned took one of your thighs in his hold and brought it up over his shoulder. His nose is buried in the mount of hair above your cunt as he sucks on that bundle he knows will have you see stars.

You moan and gasp, legs tensing around his head and fingers tugging at his dark hair. He cannot help but groan into you, grinding down into your sheets to attempt to relieve the ache in his cock. He resists the urge to fist his cock in hand by instead pushing a finger inside of you, curling it upwards to feel that spongy spot. You are tight and warm and so so wet. He savors every moment of it.

He curls a second finger inside of you, listening to you high keening whimpers and stretches you wider, and then a third.

"Ned!" your fingers tighten and tug harshly at his hair, and his eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels your body tensing as you climax on his fingers. He licks some of it up before he finds himself too impatient to see your face again. He hopes he will be able to do this again so that he may taste you for longer.

You are worn, face etched with sweet ecstasy. He kisses you with your own taste on his tongue, an action which should disgust you, yet you answer with fervour, a laziness to your motions. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him into you, deepening the kiss even further till your tongue is again in his mouth.

One of your arms caresses down his body as your lips part, your eyes hooded, breathing erratic. Your hand trails over his hip before it wraps around his hard cock.

He thrusts forwards as your fist closes around his tip, jerking downwards experimentally. He wraps his own hand over you guiding it up and down as he would his own in the privacy of his own chambers on lonely nights.

He guides himself within your hand to your cunt, nudging it over your nub, toward your sopping hole.

The thought suddenly hit him hard and fast. So suddenly he jerked back slightly from your touch.

"What... what is it?" you looked concerned, eyes wide, braided hair mussed.

"I shouldn't be doing this, it's wrong." It was dishonourable and an insult to such a fine lady as yourself for him to be debasing you so. You weren't married, after all. Not yet, he thought. He could see you at his side as his wife. But you were not his wife now, and you may never be his wife.

"No, no, no! Please, take me," eyes blown wide, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with each breath you take as you tug him down so gently, "if you'll have me?" His chest clenched at such tender words.

With you begging him so sweetly, he could not resist, though there was a part of him still demanding he stop now, for this was wrong. Yet it was drowned by his raging desire which he had harboured for for so long.

He takes his position once more over you, between your thighs, and pushes himself inside of you slowly and carefully. His eyes nearly roll to the back of his skull at feeling such pleasure, and he nearly thrusts into you as a wild man would, but he resists easily enough for he knew it would cause you harm. He listened as you groaned and your face tugged into a discomforted expression, he felt himself stopping then, ready to pull out should you change you mind.

"Just slowly. Be gentle with me, please," your hands grabbed onto his shoulders, you knees farther parting to allow him better access.

He moves his hips so slowly at first, thrusts shallow and experimental, before his lips captured yours in a passionate flurry of movements. You were so warm, so wet. He knew you were most likely a virgin, a lady such as yourself. That thought only made his feel more hungry for you.

His movements continued as a slow and steady pace, before you whined prettily into his mouth and grabbed at his hip.

"You can move more," you spoke, breathless as he parted from you.

He obliged, building up his pace, pulling one of your legs up and around his waist as his thrusts became deeper and faster with each moan that left you mouth.

He could not tear his eyes away from you, from your sweat slick brow, your squeezed shut eyes and 'o' parted lips. He felt his own release build, but wanted you to finish at least once more for him, so he brought one hand between you and felt for you nub and began to rub at it, listening and watching your reaction as to what was best.

You tightened further around him, legs squeezing at his sides as you came for a second time. He could no sooner hold onto himself and buried his face in your neck and lost himself to you, thrusting without abandon as he chased after his own climax.

He came with a low groan, sucking kisses into your neck, filling you with his seed so deeply that for a moment, he prayed it would take, the thought of seeing you with child so tantalising.

He stayed within you for a few moments, perhaps even minutes, catching his breath and listening to yours.

He presses a tender kiss to your brow before pulling his softened cock from you with a wince. He was unable to look away as he sat up and eventually saw some of jus seed dribble out of you. He had to supress a groan.

"I'm sorry," he eventually broke the silence.

"Whatever for?"

He looked back at you, a goddess much to perfect for someone such as himself, worth more than ten of him, "for dishonouring you, my lady. I would have wed you before bedding you, yet I have not."

"I don't expect you to wed me, my lord," you admitted.

"Please don't call me that now. I have no right to any title after the disservice I have given you," for even thinking of getting her with child.

"You haven't. I wanted to be with you, just as much. I hope you don't think any less of me for it."

"No, I do not."

"Then we are simply two friends having a long and heartfelt goodbye," your smile is sad and small, not one of any joy or happiness.

"Is that all you view me as? Your friend?" he found himself speaking before he could stop, pulling on his underclothes.

"No, no. I... I feel for you. In my heart. I..." you paused and he looked at you, "I have come to love you, Ned. For not only the just and honourable Lord which you are, but for the loving father, and kind man. I enjoy the companionship you have offered me in the time which I have known you, and I have desired more of you for some time now."

He found himself dropping his breeches from hand and returning to your bed where you sat looking at him.

"It is fine should you not feel the same--"

"I do," he interrupted, bringing his hand to your cheek, "I love you."

You leaned into him, smile broadening across your face.

"I will wed you upon my return, my lady. I swear it to you."

He kisses you once more, a deep and long kiss filled with his love, before dressing and bidding you goodnight, feeling wrong to leave you after you had shared something so intimate with him.

Despite himself, despite leaving for war and having bedded you, confessed his love and swore to marry you though he may not even live to see you again after tomorrow, he sleeps well and peacefully that night.

He wed you the same day of his return.

comments are looked upon fondly here so don't be a stranger ;)

(please no negativity, my heart can't take it. I am a delicate soul)

#ned stark x reader #ned stark x you #asoiaf x reader #got x reader #got x you #ned stark #eddard stark #got smut #asoiaf smut #smut #house stark #fluff

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jackoshadows · 6 months

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The most ridiculous aspect of all this 'it's just sisters being sisters' nonsense is that we actually do see an example of siblings being siblings with the other Stark kids.

The affection and concern for each other amongst the Stark brothers - Robb and Jon embracing each other fiercely in their parting goodbye, their care and concern for each other, Robb telling Bran they can visit Jon at the Wall, Jon nearly deserting the NW for Robb and Robb telling Catelyn - “You forget. My father had four sons.”

Are the 'this is just how sisters are' folks implying that the boys can be loving and affection brothers with each other while 'sisters being sisters' is just bullying, shaming one's appearance and nonconformity and not caring that their little sister has been literally attacked with a sword? How very sexist of them.

Jon and Robb have that complex and very human sibling bond, where when they were little children Robb hurts Jon with his words and now in their teens, Robb has a deeper empathy for Jon than anyone else.

There's a reason Arya felt really alone and missed her brothers while in King's Landing - that was where the real sibling love was.

That was when Arya missed her brothers most. She wanted to tease Bran and play with baby Rickon and have Robb smile at her. She wanted Jon to muss up her hair and call her "little sister" and finish her sentences with her. But all of them were gone. She had no one left but Sansa, and Sansa wouldn't even talk to her unless Father made her. - Arya, AgoT

She went back to the window, Needle in hand, and looked down into the courtyard below. If only she could climb like Bran, she thought; she would go out the window and down the tower, run away from this horrible place, away from Sansa and Septa Mordane and Prince Joffrey, from all of them. Steal some food from the kitchens, take Needle and her good boots and a warm cloak. She could find Nymeria in the wild woods below the Trident, and together they'd return to Winterfell, or run to Jon on the Wall. She found herself wishing that Jon was here with her now. Then maybe she wouldn't feel so alone. - Arya, AGoT

So we do see siblings being siblings amongst the love the brothers have for each other and their love for their sisters, especially Jon's concern and love for Arya. Bran is concerned for Sansa's well being and Sansa is confident that Robb will win. This is all siblings being siblings - not bullying and throwing siblings into danger for selfish reasons.

So it's not that GRRM cannot write affectionate and complex sibling dynamics and siblings being siblings - he has done so with the rest of the Starks. It's just that the character of Sansa was created specifically to create that discord amongst the Starks and so we end up not getting a loving sisterly relationship between the Stark sisters like we do with the brothers.

Now one can criticize the author for choosing a female character to create that discord or for not writing in a strong sisterly female relationship like he did with Jon and Robb or Robb and Bran or even the beautiful brother/sister relationship we get with Jon and Arya.

That's perfectly legitimate to critique the narrative from a Doylist perspective and, if Sansa is one's favorite character, to call out GRRM for not giving Sansa the same sibling dynamics he has done for Arya, Jon and Bran.

What is not okay is to equate Sansa's treatment of her little sister Arya in AGoT as 'just sisters being sisters', or even more egregiously 'that's just how older sisters are' and attempting to normalize the bullying and mocking of one's appearance.

An elder sister is typically one of the most protective in a family, IMO and we see that in Arya's concerned thoughts about Bran and Rickon in Winterfell after she goes on the run and in how Bran clutches Arya's hand for protection when Robb/Jon prank the younger ones with a ghost.

We have Sansa's POV chapters and at no point is Sansa ever concerned for Arya the way Jon and Bran are concerned for their sisters in King's Landing in their POV - which is what siblings being siblings means in my books. Quite the opposite - Sansa victim blames Mycah and Arya for sadistic Joffrey's actions, throws Arya under the bus by telling Cersei that it's Arya who is the traitor and forgets to even ask where Arya is and what happened to her when things go south in KL.

AGoT Sansa is a rather shitty elder sister to have. However, Arya has loving brothers in Jon and Bran and I can't wait for her to reunite with characters who genuinely love her, want to protect her, look after her and have showed concern for her well being.

And wanting Arya to be with characters who have shown her that love and affection in the actual text of the books instead of a sister who bullied her and didn't care a bit for her is not sexism, no matter how much one attempts to gaslight the fandom with faux feminist nonsense.

#Arya Stark #Jon Snow #Robb Stark #Bran Stark #Stark siblings

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wulfhall · 1 year

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the company of wolves, angela carter; sansa iv, a clash of kings; detail of susanna and the elders, pierre van hanselaere (1820); wolf alice (for angela carter), gina litherland; sansa iv, a clash of kings; cold death, ash mckean; winter (january, cycle of the months), master wenceslas (c.1404-07); sansa vii, a storm of swords; the company of wolves, chris hagan

sansa stark + the company of wolves

She closed the window on the wolves' threnody and took off her scarlet shawl, the colour of poppies, the colour of sacrifices, the colour of her menses, and, since her fear did her no good, she ceased to be afraid.

What shall I do with my shawl?

Throw it on the fire, dear one. You won't need it again.

- the company of wolves, angela carter

She rushed back to the bed and stared in horror at the dark red stain and the tale it told. All she could think was that she had to get rid of it, or else they'd see. She couldn't let them see, or they'd marry her to Joffrey and make her lay with him. Snatching up her knife, Sansa hacked at the sheet, cutting out the stain. [...] She balled up the evidence, stuffed it in the fireplace, drenched it in oil from her bedside lamp, and lit it afire. [...] The bedclothes were burnt, but by the time they carried her off her thighs were bloody again. It was as if her own body had betrayed her to Joffrey, unfurling a banner of Lannister crimson for all the world to see.

- sansa iv, a clash of kings

#its about rites of passage its about the fairytale-esque its about the ominous look of blood on snow its about transformation #snow + blood + violence + loss + transformation + burning all being intrinsically connected with all of the starks #asoiaf #sansa stark #a storm of swords #a clash of kings #web weaving #angela carter #menstruation cw #blood cw #valyrianscrolls

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agentrouka-blog · 1 year

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Do you think Jonnel/Sansa marriage remaining childless and GRRM having Jonnel remarry after Sansa's death, signals bad things for Jonsa? Also what do you think of Sansa's sister marrying Jon Umber and Edric Stark? Jonsasource apparently considers it to be Jonrya foreshadowing

I do think that Jonnel/Sansa is meant to foreshadow Jonsa (I mean, whatever else for, ffs) but at the same time it's a Bad Precedent that jonsa is meant to subvert.

Jonnel marrying his half-niece Sansa the Elder to absorb her claim when she should have ruled in her own right is pretty awful. That's basically Cregan and Alys Karstark. Her early death is awful. He remarries but also dies childless. They contributed nothing to the ancestry of today's Starks. (Neither did her sister Serena who married Jonnel's brother Edric, though they had many children.)

That scenario is obviously not the future of House Stark, okay?

GRRM put both of these people into the Stark family tree so they could be found by the curious. The give us a married couple by the name of Jon and Sansa, which is significant, and they also give us a Big Reminder that the North has never had a Queen of Winter or a ruling Lady of Winterfell. Just as the next Sansa with a claim is rounding the corner. Whose claim was pitted against that of a Jon. Auspicious timing.

Will history repeat to prevent the rule of a woman by tying her to a man through a marriage of convenience? Or will there be a twist?

Given how Jon loudly said "Nope, Winterfell belongs to Sansa." and how he reacted to Cregan Karstark's attempt to pull a Jonnel on Alys, I have a strong suspicion that he's not going to go down that route with Sansa at all.

If this Jon(nel) and Sansa marry, it will not be to absorb her claim. It will not be some loveless marriage of convenience, nor childless and thus inconsequential for the continuation of House Stark.

No one will ever marry me for love. (ASOS, Sansa VI)

You don't write a line like that unless you intend to disprove it.

I think of it the same way as I think of the two historical figures named Daenerys Targaryen. Both touch on themes at play with current Dany, be that peace and children or sexist succession conflicts and Targaryen exceptionalism. Both contain foreshadowing and set up subversions.

(As for Jonrya, I can only keep chanting "She is eleven in TWOW" and point out that GRRM is not going to leave the future of House Stark an open question when succession conflicts have been at the heart of the book from the start. When these books end, we will know how their line continues, and not in a "the girl who probably got her first period in the final book will marry her favorite brother and they will have six children somewhere down the line" kind of way. I mean we will know. Because we will see it happen.)

#jonnel stark #sansa stark (the elder)#jonsa #anti jonrya #anti daenerys targaryen #<- just for blocking

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rewildling · 11 months

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LADYHAWKE: The 80s Fantasy Movie that Inspired SanSan?

Could this movie have partially inspired GRRM’s Sansa Stark and Sandor Clegane as a romantic pairing in ASOIAF? And could it contain clues for their TWOW arcs? Let’s investigate.

Isabeau of Anjou and Etienne of Navarre from Ladyhawke (1985)

Ladyhawke (1985) is apparently one of GRRM’s favorite films. According to him, it’s “romantic fantasy done right,” so it’s definitely possible that it influenced the romantic plot lines in his own fantasy series.

The movie tells the story of cursed lovers Etienne of Navarre and Isabeau of Anjou. They are always together, yet eternally apart. By day, Isabeau takes the form of a bird, turning back into a woman at night.

“You’re like one of those birds from the Summer Isles, aren’t you? A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite.” Sandor Clegane, Sansa II, AGOT

By night, Navarre takes the form of a large black wolf, turning back into a man during the day.

The Hound ripped the sword free and threw away the scabbard. The Mad Huntsman gave him his oaken shield, all studded with iron and painted yellow, the three black dogs of Clegane emblazoned upon it. Arya VI, ASOS

Navarre is the former Captain of the Guard of Aquila, a formidable fighter and deadly with a sword.

The White Book was well behind. The deaths of Ser Mandon Moore and Ser Preston Greenfield needed to be entered, and the brief bloody Kingsguard service of Sandor Clegane as well. Jaime XIII, ASOS

The Hound was deadly with a sword, everyone knew that. Arya VI, ASOS

Like Sandor, Navarre is a generally cynical person and is pessimistic about the possibility of ever breaking the curse. He also rides a temperamental black stallion named Goliath.

Arya had tried to steal him once, when Clegane was taking a piss against a tree, thinking she could ride off before he could catch her. Stranger had almost bitten her face off. He was gentle as an old gelding with his master, but otherwise he had a temper as black as he was. She had never known a horse so quick to bite or kick. Arya XI, ASOS

At one point in the film, Navarre asks Matthew Broderick’s character, Phillipe, to tell him everything Isabeau said about him the night before:

“Every moment you spend with her… I envy you. But you can tell me. Tell me everything that she said. And I warn you, I will know if the words are hers. Etienne of Navarre, Ladyhawke

“A dog can smell a lie, you know.” Sandor Clegane, Sansa II, ACOK

Like Sansa, Isabeau is described by others as being exceptionally beautiful, with porcelain skin, blue eyes, and a lovely voice.

“Men would say she had my look, but she will grow into a woman far more beautiful than I ever was, you can see that.” Catelyn VII, ACOK

She is just as comely as the Tyrell girl. Her hair was a rich autumn auburn, her eyes a deep Tully blue. Tyrion VIII, ASOS

“We were talking about the prince,” Sansa said, her voice soft as a kiss. Arya I, AGOT

Isabeau is also kind, clever, and brave. As the Comte d’Anjou’s daughter, her manners are noticeably refined.

Be brave, she told herself. Be brave, like a lady in a song. Sansa V, ASOS

"Knights they are," said Petyr. "Their gallantry has yet to be demonstrated, but we may hope. Allow me to present Ser Byron, Ser Morgarth, and Ser Shadrich. Sers, the Lady Alayne, my natural and very clever daughter..." Alayne II, AFFC

For this next part, let’s keep in mind the theory that Shadrich, Morgarth, and Byron — the three hedge knights who appear at the Gates of the Moon in Littlefinger’s service in AFFC — are actually Howland Reed, the Elder Brother, and Sandor Clegane in disguise.

Phillipe is known as The Mouse. He’s small and stealthy — the first person ever to escape from Aquila’s prison. He’s also very cheeky. At first, he wants to get as far away from Aquila as possible. After he becomes invested in Navarre and Isabeau’s story, he decides to help them infiltrate Aquila and confront the man who cursed them.

Ser Shadrich was a wiry, fox-faced man with a sharp nose and a shock of orange hair, mounted on a rangy chestnut courser. Though he could not have been more than five foot two, he had a cocksure manner. ... “Ser Shadrich of the Shady Glen. Some call me the Mad Mouse.” ... “And are you mad?” “Oh, quite. Your common mouse will run from blood and battle. The mad mouse seeks them out.” Brienne I, AFFC

When Isabeau is wounded, Navarre orders Phillipe to bring her to Imperius, a solitary monk and healer, who saves her life and, along with Phillipe, helps the lovers break their curse.

“The Seven have blessed our Elder Brother with healing hands. He has restored many a man to health that even the maesters could not cure, and many a woman too.” Brother Narbert, Brienne VI, AFFC

The man who cursed them is the Bishop of Aquila, an older man who covets Isabeau and became enraged when she rejected him. The Bishop is portrayed as a greedy, deceitful lord who uses his power to manipulate and exploit people. Imperius describes his desire for Isabeau as “a sort of madness.” Sound like anyone we know?

“Your mother was my queen of beauty once,” the man said quietly. His breath smelled of mint. “You have her hair.” His fingers brushed against her cheek as he stroked one auburn lock. Quite abruptly he turned and walked away. Sansa II, AGOT

Imperius tells Phillipe that Isabeau sensed the Bishop’s wickedness and “shrank from him.” She fell in love with Navarre, and they married in secret.

When Sansa finally looked up, a man was standing over her, staring. He was short, with a pointed beard and a silver streak in his hair, almost as old as her father. “You must be one of her daughters,” he said to her. He had grey-green eyes that did not smile when his mouth did. “You have the Tully look.” “I’m Sansa Stark,” she said, ill at ease. Sansa II, AGOT

“I despise porridge.” He looked at her with Littlefinger’s eyes. “I’d sooner break my fast with a kiss.” 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. Alayne I, AFFC

The parallels between this film and ASOIAF are pretty obvious. Isabeau is a bird, and Navarre is a black wolf — an obvious connection to House Stark — but he could just have easily been a black dog.

All three character’s proposed as the true identities of the three hedge knights in Shadrich, Morgarth, and Byron have parallels in this film. Phillipe the Mouse, Imperius the monk, and Navarre the wolf infiltrate Aquila to confront the Bishop and free Isabeau the bird from his curse. If the theory proves true, Shadrich the Mad Mouse (Howland Reed), Morgarth (the Elder Brother), and Byron (Sandor Clegane/the Hound) are working together to infiltrate the Gates of the Moon and help free Sansa (the little bird) from Littlefinger’s clutches. The broad strokes of the characters and their potential future storylines in TWOW are all present.

Ladyhawke is decently acted, and the story itself is beautiful and interesting. But GRRM is right, the score is terrible.

7.5/10

#sansan saturdays #sansan summer #get her a dog #sansan meta #sansan #asoiaf meta #asoiaf #sansa stark #sandor clegane

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istumpysk · 9 months

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OPERATION ICEBERG: THE TIER LIST

THEORY:

The Hound is the gravedigger.

TIER:

Near-Certainty: These theories lack official confirmation but are so heavily supported by the text and/or external hints that they're almost certainly true.

[Tier list overview]

EVIDENCE:

Welcome to the first theory that is so blatantly obvious, you forgot it still qualifies as just a theory.

Who is the Hound?

He's a piece of trash, who is idealized by men who lacked positive male role models and romanticized by women who need a therapist.

Who is the gravedigger?

He's a piece of trash, searching for salvation at the bottom of a hole.

But are they the same person? Let's find out!

The last time we saw Sandor Clegane, he was getting his ass kicked by Polliver and the Tickler, at the inn at the crossroads.

Polliver and the Tickler had driven the Hound into a corner behind a bench, and one of them had given him an ugly red gash on his upper thigh to go with his other wounds. Sandor was leaning against the wall, bleeding and breathing noisily. He looked as though he could barely stand, let alone fight. - Arya XIII, ASOS

To my disappointment, he prevailed at the last minute, but not before sustaining severe wounds to his thigh, neck, and ear.

When the time came to leave, he needed Arya's help to get back up on Stranger. He had tied a strip of cloth about his neck and another around his thigh, and taken the squire's cloak off its peg by the door. The cloak was green, with a green arrow on a white bend, but when the Hound wadded it up and pressed it to his ear it soon turned red. Arya was afraid he would collapse the moment they set out, but somehow he stayed in the saddle. - Arya XIII, ASOS

After the scrap, Sandor, Arya, and their horses, Stranger and Craven, decide to head to Saltpans.

"Where will we go?" she asked. "Saltpans." - Arya XIII, ASOS

(map!)

Fortunately, the Hound's condition was rapidly worsening.

She brought him water instead. He drank a little of it, complained that it tasted of mud, and slid into a noisy fevered sleep. When she touched him, his skin was burning up. Arya sniffed at his bandages the way Maester Luwin had done sometimes when treating her cut or scrape. His face had bled the worst, but it was the wound on his thigh that smelled funny to her. - Arya XIII, ASOS

Arya sees a chance to kill a weakened Hound but hesitates when he wakes up. He asks for a mercy killing and tries to provoke Arya by bringing up his attempted rape of Sansa and his brutal slaying of Mycah.

Arya decides this piece of trash is not worth the effort and leaves him to die on his own.

"Mycah." Arya stepped away from him. "You don't deserve the gift of mercy." [...] Maybe some real wolves will find you, Arya thought. Maybe they'll smell you when the sun goes down. Then he would learn what wolves did to dogs. "You shouldn't have hit me with an axe," she said. "You should have saved my mother." She turned her horse and rode away from him, and never looked back once. - Arya XIII, ASOS

Or so we thought.

Moving ahead to A Feast for Crows, we encounter Brienne of Tarth—a paragon of honor and integrity who serves as a direct contrast to Sandor Clegane—on her mission to find Sansa Stark.

Acting on a tip that the Hound and a Stark daughter are near Saltpans, Brienne and her companions make their way there, but not before making a brief stop at the Quiet Isle.

The septry stood upon an upthrust island half a mile from the shore, where the wide mouth of the Trident widened further still to kiss the Bay of Crabs. - Brienne VI, AFFC

What is the Quiet Isle?

The Quiet Isle is a secluded septry where individuals seeking atonement live to make amends for their sins through contemplation, prayer, and a vow of silence.

"Why do they call it the Quiet Isle?" asked Podrick. "Those who dwell here are penitents, who seek to atone for their sins through contemplation, prayer, and silence. Only the Elder Brother and his proctors are permitted to speak, and the proctors only for one day of every seven." - Brienne VI, AFFC

Upon arrival, it's not long before the author starts dropping some hints.

"[...] Let us enjoy a good hot meal before we face that. The brothers always have a bone to spare for Dog." Dog barked and wagged his tail. - Brienne VI, AFFC

We learn that some of the brothers cover their faces, leaving only their eyes exposed. (Convenient!)

Three men were waiting for them as they clambered up the broken stones that ringed the isle's shoreline. They were clad in the brown-and-dun robes of brothers, with wide bell sleeves and pointed cowls. Two had wound lengths of wool about the lower halves of their faces as well, so all that could be seen of them were their eyes. - Brienne VI, AFFC

One of the brothers appears noticeably uneasy upon hearing Brienne's objective.

"Lady Brienne is a warrior maid," confided Septon Meribald, "hunting for the Hound." "Aye?" Narbert seemed taken aback. "To what end?" - Brienne VI, AFFC

We meet a horse named Driftwood, who is strongly reminiscent of the Hound's black stallion, Stranger.

Way down at the far end, well away from the other animals, a huge black stallion trumpeted at the sound of their voices and kicked at the door of his stall. [...] Brother Narbert sighed. "The Seven send us blessings, and the Seven send us trials. Handsome he may be, but Driftwood was surely whelped in hell. When we sought to harness him to a plow he kicked Brother Rawney and broke his shinbone in two places. We had hoped gelding might improve the beast's ill temper, but . . . - Brienne VI, AFFC

The horse was a heavy courser, almost as big as a destrier but much faster. Stranger, the Hound called him. Arya had tried to steal him once, when Clegane was taking a piss against a tree, thinking she could ride off before he could catch her. Stranger had almost bitten her face off. He was gentle as an old gelding with his master, but otherwise he had a temper as black as he was. She had never known a horse so quick to bite or kick. - Arya IX, ASOS

At last, the moment arrives. The group come across a novice with a lame leg who is noticeably larger than Brienne.

Almost no one in this story is larger than Brienne.

On the upper slopes they saw three boys driving sheep, and higher still they passed a lichyard where a brother bigger than Brienne was struggling to dig a grave. From the way he moved, it was plain to see that he was lame. As he flung a spadeful of the stony soil over one shoulder, some chanced to spatter against their feet. - Brienne VI, AFFC

The novice gravedigger is immediately drawn to Septon Meribald's dog, Dog. Wink, wink.

"Be more watchful there," chided Brother Narbert. "Septon Meribald might have gotten a mouthful of dirt." The gravedigger lowered his head. When Dog went to sniff him he dropped his spade and scratched his ear. "A novice," explained Narbert. - Brienne VI, AFFC

The crowd moves along, and Brienne repeats her objective to the Elder Brother. Once again, the atmosphere turns uneasy.

Unlike Septon Narbert, the Elder Brother did not seem dismayed by Brienne's sex, but his smile did flicker and fade when the septon told him why she and Ser Hyle had come. "I see," was all he said [...] - Brienne VI, AFFC

The story progresses, but the author makes sure we don't forget that gravedigger we encountered earlier.

"Too many corpses, these days." The Elder Brother sighed. "Our gravedigger knows no rest. [...]" - Brienne VI, AFFC

Eventually the gravedigger reappears, and once more, the author emphasizes that this large adult man's leg is notably impaired.

By the time the readings were completed, the last of the food had been cleared away by the novices whose task it was to serve. Most were boys near Podrick's age, or younger, but there were grown men as well, amongst them the big gravedigger they had encountered on the hill, who walked with the awkward lurching gait of one half-crippled. - Brienne VI, AFFC

His face had bled the worst, but it was the wound on his thigh that smelled funny to her. - Arya XIII, ASOS

After a pleasant meal, the Elder Brother takes Brienne aside to learn more about her mission. He informs her that she has been pursuing the wrong Stark daughter; the Hound was with Arya, not Sansa.

Of course, this raises the question: how could he possibly know this?

I wonder, my lady . . . what do you hope to find there?" "A girl," she told him. "A highborn maid of three-and-ten, with a fair face and auburn hair." "Sansa Stark." The name was softly said. "You believe this poor child is with the Hound?" [...] "Your Dornishman did not lie," the Elder Brother began, "but I fear you did not understand him. You are chasing the wrong wolf, my lady. Eddard Stark had two daughters. It was the other one that Sandor Clegane made off with, the younger one." "Arya Stark?" Brienne stared open-mouthed, astonished. "You know this? Lady Sansa's sister is alive?" - Brienne VI, AFFC

The Elder Brother then tells Brienne that the Hound is dead and that he buried him himself.

"[...] I do not know where she is, or even if she lives. There is one thing I do know, however. The man you hunt is dead." That was another shock. "How did he die?" "By the sword, as he had lived." "You know this for a certainty?" "I buried him myself. I can tell you where his grave lies, if you wish. I covered him with stones to keep the carrion eaters from digging up his flesh, and set his helm atop the cairn to mark his final resting place. That was a grievous error. Some other wayfarer found my marker and claimed it for himself. [...]" - Brienne VI, AFFC

But soon after, the Elder Brother speaks of his own "death," suggesting to the reader that Sandor Clegane's passing might be more symbolic than literal.

All in all, I was a sad man. When I was not fighting, I was drunk. My life was writ in red, in blood and wine." "When did it change?" asked Brienne. "When I died in the Battle of the Trident. [...]" - Brienne VI, AFFC

He then offers what appears to be a kind of eulogy, emphasizing that Sandor only lived to fulfill the dream of killing his brother, a goal he can no longer achieve.

This signals to the reader that Cleganebowl is stupid, and it's time to move on.

"I know a little of this man, Sandor Clegane. He was Prince Joffrey's sworn shield for many a year, and even here we would hear tell of his deeds, both good and ill. If even half of what we heard was true, this was a bitter, tormented soul, a sinner who mocked both gods and men. He served, but found no pride in service. He fought, but took no joy in victory. He drank, to drown his pain in a sea of wine. He did not love, nor was he loved himself. It was hate that drove him. Though he committed many sins, he never sought forgiveness. Where other men dream of love, or wealth, or glory, this man Sandor Clegane dreamed of slaying his own brother, a sin so terrible it makes me shudder just to speak of it. Yet that was the bread that nourished him, the fuel that kept his fires burning. Ignoble as it was, the hope of seeing his brother's blood upon his blade was all this sad and angry creature lived for . . . and even that was taken from him, when Prince Oberyn of Dorne stabbed Ser Gregor with a poisoned spear." - Brienne VI, AFFC

In a state of disbelief, Brienne states that Sandor Clegane is dead, and doesn't use his nickname. The Elder Brother corrects her by clarifying that Sandor Clegane is at rest.

This signals to the reader that both the Hound and Sandor Clegane are not coming back to the story, and it's time to move on.

"It is true, then," she said dully. "Sandor Clegane is dead." "He is at rest." The Elder Brother paused. - Brienne VI, AFFC

George R. R. Martin, I mean the Elder Brother, then emphatically tells his readers, I mean Brienne, that Sandor Clegane never had Sansa Stark (and he never will).

This signals to the reader that Sansan is not a thing, never was, and it's time to move on.

"I see." Brienne did not know why he was telling her all of this, or what else she ought to say.

"Do you?" He leaned forward, his big hands on his knees. "If so, give up this quest of yours. The Hound is dead, and in any case he never had your Sansa Stark. - Brienne VI, AFFC

The end.

Other things to consider:

In May of 2005, before the release of A Feast for Crows, George confirmed we'd be seeing the Hound in the upcoming book. Strange, considering the Hound is not in A Feast for Crows.

Except he is, because he's the gravedigger.

Will we see Sandor again, especially in replacing Sansa's lost wolf? Yes, we will see Sandor (in the next book I think he said) and Gregor. After that, he said he can't comment on the rest... - George R. R. Martin

In A Clash of Kings, Davos witnesses the Hound boarding the ship Prayer. (Funny author.)

Davos recognized the dog's-head helm of the Hound. A white cloak streamed from his shoulders as he rode his horse up the plank onto the deck of Prayer, hacking down anyone who blundered within reach. - Davos III, ACOK

Finally, the show confirmed the Hound's role as the gravedigger when they reintroduced the character by having him build a sept in aid of Septon Ray, who had helped nurse him back to health.

Later, as they desperately searched for something for him to do, because he wasn't meant to return to the story, they had him dig a grave. (In winter. In the frozen ground. Using a small, handheld spade.)

COUNTER-EVIDENCE:

There is none, because the Hound is the gravedigger, and we all know and accept that.

STUMPY'S THOUGHTS:

I still have no idea why anyone expects him to return to the story.

It's not like the Betty Ford Center, where you can leave after 30 days, completely rehabilitated.

Sandor Clegane is at rest. Indefinitely.

VOTE:

I welcome discussions. Feel free to reblog, respond, or challenge my perspective—I won't be offended by any of it.

Please note, if "no" is the eventual winner, or if it's competitive, a second poll will be conducted to determine the proper location.

NEXT THEORY:

Lemongate

[Main menu]

#operation iceberg #asoiaf theory tier list #theory 10 #the hound is the gravedigger

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daincrediblegg · 12 days

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Behold! The Sansa x Tyrion child OC’s that nobody asked for! I call them collectively The Golden Wolves of Winterfell

From left to right:

Johanna Stark: The eldest of the new wolf pack, Johanna prides herself as the brains of the family. Her wit and cunning are a testament to her parentage, and as the future Lady of Winterfell she has taken her studies to heart. Though a Great Game player, and a brilliant tactician she may be, her range of knowledge is not confined to books, having taken after her father’s vices on more than one front.

Ned Stark: Being the second eldest of the new wolf pack, as well as the dwarf of the family has made Ned a bit of a dreamer, as well as ambitious. He has an affinity for combat, and dreams of becoming a brave knight like his uncle and aunt. His father has his reservations due to their mutual affliction and his own experiences in battle, but his elder sister Johanna has always stood by his side on the matter. He also has a great fondness for his cousin Cat, who has always been his favorite sparring partner.

Robb Stark: The youngest wolf has always found himself favoring his mother’s side of the family, not just in looks, but in the signature stark “slow wit”. The young wolf finds himself ever in awe and in envy of his siblings, striving to outdo them in anything and everything, but always falling short. He has a penchant for secret keeping, and often finds himself tetering between the way he can use them for good and for ill.

#egg’s oc’s #tyrion lannister #sansa stark #sanrion #egg’s art #also yes I made a brienne x jaime oc child too and her name is Catelyn what OF IT

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sherlokiness · 8 months

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Jonnel/Sansa is so powerful that Aegonys have to always ignore this couple. Serena/Edric is always used to justfiy how JD marriage is gonna be okay with the Northerners because it's been done before. You would think that they would also mention Jonnel/Sansa to further strengthen their point but I have never seen it from them. I saw a reddit and quora posts mentioning Serena/Edric but never Jonnel/Sansa which is really weird if you think about it. If they know about Serena then they should also know about Sansa who is more important because she is the elder sister and was married to the Lord of Winterfell.

Hi, anon! Thanks for the ask.

I saw a reddit post once using Serena/Edric too but not Jonnel/Sansa and I was thinking they subconsciously don't want to mention it. Cause if we were talking about the technicalities of incest and you mention a Jonnel/Sansa and that's not gonna be a good look, is it? She's the only other Sansa in the story and also the older sister. What do we take from it?Jonnel/Sansa is not technically incest so marriage should be okay with Jon and the North even though he was raised as a Stark. It sounds like something a delulu Jonsa would say so they just don't talk about it.🤣🤣🤣🤣

#jonsa #sherlokiness ask #idk about the quora ones #grrm must have been cackling when he wrote it

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bighound-littlebird · 1 year

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Okay okay I just thought of something and I'm swooning. Sandor: "I stood there in my white cloak and let them beat her." Also Sandor: Said "enough" when they were beating her and gave her his cloak to cover herself. I know he was goading Arya into killing him when he said that, but I still love the parallels here!

This is actually such an important moment for Sandor's character development. His conscience doesn't allow him to admit to Arya that he did attempt to rein in Joffrey (let's be real, if he tried to do more, Joffrey would have thrown him in the black cells, or worse). He accepts responsibility for his own role in Sansa’s torment, to her sister, no less. Sandor blames himself, even though as readers, we know that he warned her ahead of time that Joffrey was in a mood because of Robb's victory, and he called for an end to her punishment. We know that when Tyrion showed up, Sandor took off his white cloak and wrapped her up in it. Arya, however, doesn't know any of that. She takes him at his word (and since he's been honest with her, she had no reason to doubt his take on Sansa’s situation) and yet she still doesn't kill him. In my mind, this is the moment that the Stark sisters "killed" whatever was left of Joffrey's "dog" the Hound - without ever raising a weapon. It's incredibly powerful that the second most dangerous fighter in Westeros is defeated by two young girls. Later, the Elder brother tells Brienne that the Hound died there on the Trident, where Arya left him. And now, during his physical and mental health recovery on the Quiet Isle, Sandor Clegane is at rest. It never fails to surprise me when I see Sansa fans ignore the power of this moment.

#sandor clegane #sansa stark #arya stark #book sandor #book sansa #meta #asoiaf meta #valyrianscrolls

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goodqueenaly · 1 year

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By the time of the series Catelyn whilst always conscious of her origins as a Tully of Riverrun is also mostly comfortable as Lady Stark and wholly committed to her Stark children. Meanwhile you have Cersei, Johanna Westerling and Sansa's own marriage where everyone involved has very strong and contrasting opinions on how marriage affects their identity and duty to the house they married into. I wonder does a highborn girl's education explicitly cover bridging this gap in their expected future?

I mean this has been the hell of dynastic marriage for as long as dynastic marriage has existed (and has been as true in real-world history as it is in Westeros). The point of a dynastic marriage, often times, is to unite two Houses for political advantage or in a show of some level of political unity; the expectation is that the children of this union, carrying the blood of both dynasties, will be the living symbols of this alliance. There is often as well a secondary expectation that the lady or princess so married will use her position (especially if she is married to a lord or king) in order to advance her birth family’s position, securing positions and other favors from whatever court or family she has married into for relatives by birth.

Yet while a highborn girl’s education usually includes lessons in heraldry (in order to identify the key power players of the realm) and games like come-into-my-castle (in order to reinforce the hierarchical relationships among these families), little else might be ordinarily expected by any given highborn Westerosi girl prior to her marriage. Often (though by no means always) raised among their birth families until the times of their marriages, and sometimes unaware of whom they will marry until relatively late in, or indeed after, their educations (thanks in part to shifts that can occur in Westerosi political alliances, as Sansa herself experienced), highborn Westerosi daughters may come to their marriages with little to no training on how to balance the interests of their birth families and those of their marital families. Too, because these are marriages of people as well as dynasties, individual personalities can shape and shift the outcomes of such unions.

Nor are these situations always easy to manage even apart from the lack of such training. After Lysa Arryn , for example, disappointed the hopes of blue-blooded Vale aristocrats by marrying Littlefinger and naming him Lord Protector, Lord Hunter commented that “Lysa Tully was never truly of the Vale, nor had she the right to dispose of us”, linking her foreignness to (so he saw it) her inability to rule properly as Robert Arryn’s regent. If Lelia Lannister, to take another example, might have easily transitioned from princess of Casterly Rock to queen of the Iron Islands as the wife of the xenophile, pro-mainlands, Faith-following King Harmund II Hoare (with the ability to advise him and their elder son in such interests), she would have found her position substantially and brutally altered in the reign of her usurping, fundamentalist-leaning second son, Hagon Hoare. If Ellyn Reyne, for still another example, enjoyed a “reign of Reynes” as de facto Lady of Casterly Rock, Tion’s death and, relatedly, her lack of a child by him left her unable to assert such dominance within House Lannister going forward, and open to a forced remarriage with substantially less opportunity for advancement in the Westerlands. These are just a few examples, of course, but the point stands that dynastic marriages are not always easily navigated by the women and girls for whom they are made.

#asoiaf meta #westerosi culture #gender in asoiaf

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