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hello-nichya-here · 1 year

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Why do you think Tywin had a much more negative reaction to Tyrion marrying Tysha than did to Jaime and Cersei's incestuous affair?

For a few reasons.

Tyrion is Tyrion

That one fact is always very present in Tywin's mind. Tyrion is a dwarf. He is barely considered human by most people, and in fact, many assumed he truly was some monstruous abomination when he was born.

He brings shame to the Lannisters just by existing, and his first action in this world was "murdering" his own mother - Tywin's wife, the one person he genuinely loved.

Tyrion could have been the best person in the whole world and the perfect heir - and in fact he IS Tywin's "true son" even more than Jaime due to how simmilar they are - and it still would not have mattered. He is Tyrion, therefore everything he does is wrong somehow, and requires a severe punishment.

Elitism

Cersei and Jaime's affair might be taboo, but it is still between two nobles, two Lannisters. Not to mention, the Targaryens used to marry brother to sister all the time, and Tywin grew up knowing that, sometimes, that kind of thing is excused and even seen as a sign of their basically divine right to rule - provided the family in question has enough power to get away with this.

Tyrion marrying a common girl is a completely different story. When we hear Jaime explaining their father's reasoning to Tyrion, we find out that Tywin is 100% sure Tysha was only marrying Tyrion for his money, not for genuine love, and therefore was no better than a whore.

From Tywin's perspective, Tyrion was an idiot who fell for the first woman - the first whore - that told him some sweet little lies, to the point that he would disgrace the entire family just to marry her.

Tywin sleeps with prostitutes, in fact, he even slept with Shae, Tyrion's replacement for his first wife. But he is discrete about it, and would never even dream of letting any of them to become anything more than just a whore he pays to pleasure him every now and then. Tyrion marrying a common girl (which again, means the same as whore in his mind) is not just shameful, it's a disaster.

Even in his brutal punishment for both of them, when he forces Tyrion to watch Tysha be raped and then do the same to her, Tywin has the guards pay her with copper coins, while Tyrion gives her gold one because a Lannister is worth more.

Open Defiance

While Jaime joining the Kings Guard (so he wouldn't be forced to marry another woman and be set away from his twin) was not at all in Tywin's plans and is definitively something he'd consider bellow his first-born, his heir, that is still a position of great honor, and one could easily imagine a man like Jaime being genuine when he says he'd rather be a fighter his whole life than have lands, a wife and children.

We also see Tywin spending YEARS trying to make Jaime break his vows, and even uses Tyrion's trial to achieve that. He went easier on his favorite son, yes, but he did NOT accept Jaime's choice, just like he didn't accept Tyrion's.

And there WAS a punishment for the twins. He took Cersei back to Casterly Rock with him, so they couldn't be together, at least not until Cersei was to marry the king - which she was fully willing to do, despite her love for Jaime, and their affair was a secret, which likely contribuited to Tywin sparing them a harsher punishment.

Tyrion meanwhile married Tysha completely behind his father's back, and anyone who knew Tywin would instantly know that he did NOT approve of this. This was Tyrion screaming that HE decided he'd live, not his father, and that shit just does not fly with a man like Tywin Lannister - hell, Cersei got a taste of that too when Tywin wanted to force her to marry again to try to silence the rumors of incest, despite her terrible experience with Robert making her understandably only want to be with Jaime, the man she chose for herself.

If you're Tywin's child, you do as you're told. You're his property. Which leads us to:

Loss of a potentially valluable asset

Tywin hates Tyrion. But that hatred never stopped him from using Tyrion's wit to his advantage, and he even had Tyrion marry Sansa to make sure the North would be under the control of house Lannister.

Sure, the fact that he is a dwarf made it harder for Tyrion to be "useful" when it came to marriage (hell, he was often offered to families as an insult) but it was not at all impossible.

Not until Tyrion went and married a girl that had literally nothing to offer to house Lannister. No lands, no money, no allies, no influence, no great historical relevance, nothing. Just an "ambitious whore" who forgot her place, and is giving a ton of happiness for the deformed monster that killed Tywin's wife.

Once again, compare that to Cersei marrying the freaking king, and Jaime taking an oath that was bellow him but still honorable and a reason for pride, and tell me which of his kids Tywin will be mad at.

#asks #tywin meta #tywin lannister #tyrion lannister #rape mention #tyrion meta #ableism #elitism #misogyny

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i-drink-and-i-write-fics · 10 months

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Redemption

Chapter 4: Nightmares

Summary: With the news that Rayn is alive, Jaime is plagued with memories of the past.

“Let me serve,” Jaime begged. “Let me do my duty. You will need good men by your side.”

But Rhaegar refused. “Our mission is dangerous in ways we cannot perhaps imagine. I charge you to remain in King’s Landing and keep my wife and children safe.”

“You won’t regret this,” Jaime vowed, “I promise.”

“Dad!” A tiny girl’s voice called out. “Ser Jaime! Please help!”

The words Rhaegar had used to describe him played over and over.

“He’s a good fighter, a brave knight. If I’m not mistaken, he’ll be one of the finest.”

The screams of Ellia calling out for help made Jaime shoot up in bed.

“No!”

His bed chambers were dark, the drawn curtains keeping out either the sun or the moon. He was drenched in sweat from the dream and was glad Cersei wasn’t here with him. Jaime needed a comforting hand and Cersei was anything but.

Tossing the sheets aside, Jaime climbed out of his bed and wandered over to a table where he had a pitcher of water and a cup waiting for him. He tried his best to pour with his left hand, but water still spilled onto the tabletop. Sighing, he grabbed the cup and moved to one of the windows. Pulling the curtain back slightly, he could see it was dark still.

It had been the same nightmare every night. Ever since he found out Rayn was still alive. His Rayn.

No, not his Rayn. Not anymore. Not since the night Robert’s Rebellion was won.

When he was young, when he came to the Red Keep for the first time and laid eyes on Rayn, Jaime had secretly hoped they could run off together. He knew Tywin would never allow him to marry some handmaiden. If Tyrion couldn’t keep Tysha, what hope had Jaime - the heir of Casterly Rock - have in keeping his Rayn? But that didn’t stop him from having fantasies about it. Especially after he and Rayn shared that first kiss. Visions of him running off with her to parts of Essos; Lys, Braavos, Volantis, anywhere away from his father and his birthright. He would have risked stealing a sack of gold from the mines if it meant he could be with her.

But in the end, all he got was a lifetime in the King’s Guard, no sword hand, and Cersei.

As if he had summoned her by merely thinking of her name, there was a knock on his chamber door.

“Ser Jaime?” A tiny voice called out. If Jaime remembered correctly, it belonged to Cersei’s handmaid. But the name escaped him.

Sighing again, Jaime pulled on a shirt and opened the door. The frightened girl stood before him.

“Sorry for disturbing you, Ser. Her Grace has requested your presence.”

Of course, she has, Jaime thought bitterly. She only comes to me when she’s at her lowest.

“Forgive me, but I am unable to meet with Her Grace at this time. I am unwell.”

This caused the girl’s eyes to grow wide. “Shall I send for Qyburn?”

Jaime internally shuddered. The former Maester may have prevented Jaime from dying after his hand was cut off, getting rid of any corrupted tissue, but Jaime couldn’t bring himself to be treated for anything else by that man.

“No, thank you. It’s just…old pain in my wrist. Nothing a bit of wine and more sleep won’t fix.”

“O-of course, Ser Jaime.” She did a quick curtsey and then practically ran from his room.

Jaime closed the door but didn’t bother locking it. It would only make Cersei angry as she would undoubtedly be on her way once the handmaid came back to report. And the last thing he needed was Ser Gregor - or rather, what was left of him - breaking down his chamber doors.

He also knew why Cersei was calling for him so late. She wanted…comfort. And he refused to be used. Not anymore.

So very quickly, Jaime got dressed and checked that a bag he had packed was still ready to go by the window. When he packed it - the day he found out Rayn was still alive and heading back to Westeros - Jaime almost unpacked it immediately afterward. He tried to convince himself that he wasn’t leaving Cersei or King’s Landing. That his role was here by his sister’s side as Tywin would have wanted. Well, maybe not in the way he had been before.

But the more he thought about everything that had happened in the last years - hells, since Robert’s Rebellion - the more he realized he didn’t belong here. Didn’t belong by Cersei’s side. But where he wanted to go…it would end in either life or death.

Speaking of his twin, she didn’t even bother to knock as she entered his room. Jaime barely caught sight of Clegane standing outside the room before the door closed. If he was leaving tonight, it certainly wouldn’t be out that door.

“What’s this I hear of you not feeling well?” That was Cersei’s way of greeting him. She was still in her dress from court and Jaime wondered if she slept like that now. They had not shared a bed since his latest return.

Jaime resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Just my wrist. It will pass as it always does.”

“I’ll have Qyburn-”

“No,” Jaime cut her off and Cersei raised an eyebrow. Between her facial expressions and her military-style gowns, it was like facing a female version of Tywin. Taking a deep breath, he continued. “No, thank you. I know you trust him, but all he will do is give me milk of the poppy and I would rather be in pain than have a foggy mind.”

“If you insist,” Cersei began to walk around the room and Jaime’s eyes darted to the bag by the window when she turned her head. “You haven’t come to see me since your return.”

“We’ve had several meetings about the Targaryen girls since my return.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

Jaime sighed and then wondered if he had the strength for this conversation.

“You lied; you are afraid of me.”

Jaime scoffed. “No, not afraid.”

“Then what is it?!”

He turned and looked his twin in the eye. “Disappointed. I’m disappointed.”

Cersei tried her best to keep her face straight, but Jaime could see it in her eyes. He had hurt her. Good.

“Disappointed?” Now she was trying to look angry, but the sadness was still strong in her eyes. “What gives you the right to be disappointed in me? I’m not the one who got herself captured by Robb Stark and then lost my hand.”

“No. You’re the one who raised our children to turn on us. I couldn’t be in their lives and Robert clearly didn’t give a shit. And you were too busy grabbing for power to notice how you were failing as a mother.”

He hadn’t meant for the words to slip out, but there they were and there was no going back now.

Cersei’s eyes grew wide. “How dare you?! I was a wonderful mother to our children!”

“Yes, of course. How could I forget Joffrey; the firstborn so spoiled and entitled that he could never assume his actions would have consequences. Such as when he chopped off Ned Stark’s head and plunged us into war. Or how he would have had Sansa beaten - possibly to death - by Meryn Trant if Tyrion hadn’t interrupted.”

“Don’t you bring that monster into this! He-”

“Yes, yes, he killed our father. And don’t bring up Joffrey’s death. You and I both know if that was Tyrion, he did the realm a favor by removing Joffrey as king. What about Myrcella? You and Joffrey created such a hostile environment she wasn’t even safe in King’s Landing. Your own daughter you claimed to love so much.”

Cersei slapped him, tears rolling down her face once he mentioned Myrcella. “Her death was Tyrion’s fault!”

Jaime didn’t even bother to rub his cheek. “Yes, Tyrion didn’t pick the best spot for Myrcella. But I know Tyrion adored those children. Don’t argue. Just because he spares you no love, doesn’t mean he didn’t love Myrcella and Tommen.”

“He hated Joffrey!”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “We all hated Joffrey except for you. And I believe that is only because he came out of you.”

She tried to slap him again, but this time he caught her wrist.

“And speaking of Tommen, I understand the need to get rid of your enemies. But from what I have heard, the Faith Militant is your fault. You were so desperate to get rid of Margaery Tyrell that you killed our son with grief and turned the Reach against us.”

“How dare you speak to me this way!”

Her cries caught the attention of The Mountain and he burst into the room. Jaime immediately let go of Cersei’s wrist and took a step back.

Cersei took a deep breath. “Clearly, the news of Rayn still being alive has clouded your mind and made you forget who you are. Ser Gregor, please remain outside my brother’s room until he remembers he’s a Lannister, not a Targaryen.”

Jaime kept his face neutral as Cersei left the room with Clegane right behind her. The door slammed shut and he knew that the massive zombie would be right outside his door.

That was fine with him. When he freed Tyrion from prison, he learned a few things from The Spider.

Grabbing his bag, he walked over to the fireplace in his room and gently pushed on the painting next to it. The wall opened up into a door and Jaime took a deep breath.

Ok, Rayn. Here I come.

Chapter 5

Tagging Crew:

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#Jaime Lannister #jaime lannister x original female character #got #game of thrones #ASoIaF #A Song of Ice and Fire #redemption #original female character #canon divergence

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reginarubie · 2 years

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Queen you shall be ~ book vibes + show foreshadowings of the book-plots

Queen you shall be, the old woman had promised, with her lips still wet and red and glistening, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear. — Cersei III, AFFC

The queen, Cersei Lannister and the possible candidates for the role of younger, more beautiful queen.

She dreamt she sat the Iron Throne, high above them all. The courtiers were brightly colored mice below. Great lords and proud ladies knelt before her. Bold young knights laid their swords at her feet and pleaded for her favors, and the queen smiled down at them. Until the dwarf appeared as if from nowhere, pointing at her and howling with laughter. The lords and ladies began to chuckle too, hiding their smiles behind their hands. Only then did the queen realize she was naked. — Cersei I, AFFC

"I govern the realm." Seven save us all, you do. His sister liked to think of herself as Lord Tywin with teats, but she was wrong. Their father had been as relentless and implacable as a glacier, where Cersei was all wildfire, especially when thwarted. She had been giddy as a maiden when she learned that Stannis had abandoned Dragonstone, certain that he had finally given up the fight and sailed away to exile. When word came down from the north that he had turned up again at the Wall, her fury had been fearful to behold. She does not lack for wits, but she has no judgment, and no patience. "You need a strong Hand to help you." "A weak ruler needs a strong Hand, as Aerys needed Father. A strong ruler requires only a diligent servant to carry out his orders." She swirled her wine. "Lord Hallyne might suit. He would not be the first pyromancer to serve as the King's Hand." — Jaime II, AFFC

Though she had been too young to witness the spectacle herself, Cersei had heard the stories growing up from the mouths of washerwomen and guardsmen who had been there. They spoke of how the woman had wept and begged, of the desperate way she clung to her garments when she was commanded to disrobe, of her futile efforts to cover her breasts and her sex with her hands as she hobbled barefoot and naked through the streets to exile. "Vain and proud she was, before," she remembered one guard saying, "so haughty you'd think she'd forgot she come from dirt. Once we got her clothes off her, though, she was just another whore."

If Ser Kevan and the High Sparrow thought that it would be the same with her, they were very much mistaken. Lord Tywin's blood was in her. I am a lioness. I will not cringe for them.

The queen shrugged off her robe.

(...)

"Harlot," a voice screamed.

(...) I am not afraid. I am a lioness. She walked on.

— Cersei II, ADWD

Daenerys Targaryen, queen in the East, claimant to the Iron throne

Slaves, Dany thought. Khal Drogo would drive them downriver to one of the towns on Slaver's Bay. She wanted to cry, but she told herself that she must be strong. This is war, this is what it looks like, this is the price of the Iron Throne. — Daenerys VII, AGOT "Viserys is dead. I am his heir, the last blood of House Targaryen. Whatever was his is mine now." — Daenerys X, AGOT

I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father.

But before she could do that she must conquer. — Daenerys II, ACOK

"Sellswords have their uses," Ser Jorah admitted, "but you will not win your father's throne with sweepings from the Free Cities. Nothing knits a broken realm together so quick as an invading army on its soil."

"I am their rightful queen," Dany protested.

"You are a stranger who means to land on their shores with an army of outlanders who cannot even speak the Common Tongue. The lords of Westeros do not know you, and have every reason to fear and mistrust you. You must win them over before you sail. A few at least." — Daenerys III, ACOK

It was hard to summon the will to speak, to recall the words she had practiced so assiduously. "I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros." Do they hear me? Why don't they move? She sat, folding her hands in her lap. "Grant me your counsel, and speak to me with the wisdom of those who have conquered death." — Daenerys IV, ACOK

Dany knew she would take more than a hundred, if she took any at all. "Remind your Good Master of who I am. Remind him that I am Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, trueborn queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. My blood is the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and of old Valyria before him." — Daenerys II, ASOS

“I know what Aegon proved, I mean to prove a few things of my own” (...)

"Done," the old Grazdan answered in his thick Valyrian.

The others echoed that old man of the pearl fringe. "Done," the slave girl translated, "and done, and done, eight times done."

(...)

"Is it done, then? Do they belong to me?"

"It is done," he agreed, giving the chain a sharp pull to bring Drogon down from the litter.

(...)

She stood in her stirrups and raised the harpy's fingers above her head for all the Unsullied to see. "IT IS DONE!" she cried at the top of her lungs. "YOU ARE MINE!" She gave the mare her heels and galloped along the first rank, holding the fingers high. "YOU ARE THE DRAGON'S NOW! YOU'RE BOUGHT AND PAID FOR! IT IS DONE! IT IS DONE!"

(...)

"Unsullied!" Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. "Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see." She raised the harpy's fingers in the air . . . and then she flung the scourge aside. "Freedom!" she sang out. "Dracarys! Dracarys!"

— Daenerys III, ASOS

A boy came, younger than Dany, slight and scarred, dressed up in a frayed grey tokar trailing silver fringe. His voice broke when he told of how two of his father's household slaves had risen up the night the gate broke. One had slain his father, the other his elder brother. Both had raped his mother before killing her as well. The boy had escaped with no more than the scar upon his face, but one of the murderers was still living in his father's house, and the other had joined the queen's soldiers as one of the Mother's Men. He wanted them both hanged.

[btw, people still think she'll accept either Jon or Aegon as Rhaegar's children? — I mean this boy is basically a foil of either or both of them, his elder sibling(s) has been killed by two men as his father has been slaughtered, his mother raped and later killed... does this not remind anyone of Elia, Lyanna, Rhaenys and Rhaegar?, Yet Daenerys refuses him, even knowing her slavers have done something hideous to someone she should feel inclined to protect a woman, who possibly had no agency and a child]

I am queen over a city built on dust and death. Dany had no choice but to deny him. She had declared a blanket pardon for all crimes committed during the sack. Nor would she punish slaves for rising up against their masters. — Daenerys I, ADWD

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros? I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I. — Daenerys II, ADWD

"None, this one grieves to confess. We beg your pardon."

Mercy, thought Dany. They will have the dragon's mercy. "Skahaz, I have changed my mind. Question the man sharply."

"I could. Or I could question the daughters sharply whilst the father looks on. That will wring some names from him."

"Do as you think best, but bring me names." Her fury was a fire in her belly. "I will have no more Unsullied slaughtered. Grey Worm, pull your men back to their barracks. Henceforth let them guard my walls and gates and person. From this day, it shall be for Meereenese to keep the peace in Meereen. Skahaz, make me a new watch, made up in equal parts of shavepates and freedmen.

— Daenerys II, ADWD

Margaery Tyrell, briefly queen consort to Joffrey Baratheon, consort to king Tommen Baratheon

Margaery was different, though. Sweet and gentle, yet there was a little of her grandmother in her, too. The day before last she'd taken Sansa hawking. It was the first time she had been outside the city since the battle. — Sansa II, ASOS

But why? Sansa wondered when she was alone. It made her uneasy. I'll wager this gown is Margaery's doing somehow, or her grandmother's.

Margaery's kindness had been unfailing, and her presence changed everything. Her ladies welcomed Sansa as well. It had been so long since she had enjoyed the company of other women, she had almost forgotten how pleasant it could be. — Sansa II, ASOS

I will need to move carefully with that one. The city was full of his men, and he'd even managed to plant one of his sons in the Kingsguard, and meant to plant his daughter in Tommen's bed. It still made her furious to think that Father had agreed to betroth Tommen to Margaery Tyrell. — Cersei I, AFFC

The old woman was twice as clever as her lord son, that was plain. — Cersei II, AFFC

She is pretty enough, she had to admit, but most of that is youth. Even peasant girls are pretty at a certain age, when they are still fresh and innocent and unspoiled, and most of them have the same brown hair and brown eyes as she does. Only a fool would ever claim she was more beautiful than I. The world was full of fools, however. So was her son's court. — Cersei III, AFFC

But the king was deaf to sense, thanks to his little queen. "If we mingle with the commons, they will love us better."

"The mob loved the fat High Septon so well they tore him limb from limb, and him a holy man," she reminded him. All it did was make him sullen with her. Just as Margaery wants, I wager. Every day in every way she tries to steal him from me. Joffrey would have seen through her schemer's smile and let her know her place, but Tommen was more gullible. She knew Joff was too strong for her, Cersei thought, remembering the gold coin Qyburn had found. For House Tyrell to hope to rule, he had to be removed. It came back to her that Margaery and her hideous grandmother had once plotted to marry Sansa Stark to the little queen's crippled brother Willas. Lord Tywin had forestalled that by stealing a march on them and wedding Sansa to Tyrion, but the link had been there. They are all in it together, she realized with a start. The Tyrells bribed the gaolers to free Tyrion, and whisked him down the roseroad to join his vile bride. By now the both of them are safe in Highgarden, hidden away behind a wall of roses.

— Cersei VI, AFFC

Brienne of Tarth, the ‘great beauty’, sworn shield of lady Catelyn Stark and sworn to find and protect her daughters.

"Children are a battle of a different sort." Catelyn started across the yard. "A battle without banners or warhorns, but no less fierce. Carrying a child, bringing it into the world . . . your mother will have told you of the pain . . ."

"I never knew my mother," Brienne said. "My father had ladies . . . a different lady every year, but . . ."

"Those were no ladies," Catelyn said. "As hard as birth can be, Brienne, what comes after is even harder. At times I feel as though I am being torn apart. Would that there were five of me, one for each child, so I might keep them all safe."

"Brienne, I have taken many wellborn ladies into my service over the years, but never one like you. I am no battle commander."

"No, but you have courage. Not battle courage perhaps but . . . I don't know . . . a kind of woman's courage. And I think, when the time comes, you will not try and hold me back. Promise me that. That you will not hold me back from Stannis."

Catelyn could still hear Stannis saying that Robb's turn too would come in time. It was like a cold breath on the back of her neck. "When the time comes, I will not hold you back." — Catelyn V, ACOK

Brienne curled up beneath her cloak, with Podrick yawning at her side. I was not always wary, she might have shouted down at Crabb. When I was a little girl I believed that all men were as noble as my father. Even the men who told her what a pretty girl she was, how tall and bright and clever, how graceful when she danced. It was Septa Roelle who had lifted the scales from her eyes. "They only say those things to win your lord father's favor," the woman had said. "You'll find truth in your looking glass, not on the tongues of men." It was a harsh lesson, one that left her weeping, but it had stood her in good stead at Harrenhal when Ser Hyle and his friends had played their game. A maid has to be mistrustful in this world, or she will not be a maid for long, she was thinking, as the rain began to fall. — Brienne IV, AFFC

"A daughter." Brienne's eyes filled with tears. "He deserves that. A daughter who could sing to him and grace his hall and bear him grandsons. He deserves a son too, a strong and gallant son to bring honor to his name. Galladon drowned when I was four and he was eight, though, and Alysanne and Arianne died still in the cradle. I am the only child the gods let him keep. The freakish one, not fit to be a son or daughter." — Brienne VI, AFFC

Seven, Brienne thought again, despairing. She had no chance against seven, she knew. No chance, and no choice.

She stepped out into the rain, Oathkeeper in hand. "Leave her be. If you want to rape someone, try me."

The oulaws turned as one. One laughed, and another said something in a tongue Brienne did not know. The huge one with the broad white face gave a malevolent hiss. The man in the Hound's helm began to laugh. "You're even uglier than I remembered. I'd sooner rape your horse." — Brienne VII, AFFC

Sansa Stark, princess in the North to her brothers, currently hiding in the Vale.

"The night's first traitors," the queen said, "but not the last, I fear. Have Ser Ilyn see to them, and put their heads on pikes outside the stables as a warning." As they left, she turned to Sansa. "Another lesson you should learn, if you hope to sit beside my son. Be gentle on a night like this and you'll have treasons popping up all about you like mushrooms after a hard rain. The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy."

"I will remember, Your Grace," said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people's loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I'll make them love me. — Sansa VI, ACOK

Across the city, thousands had jammed into the Great Sept of Baelor on Visenya's Hill, and they would be singing too, their voices swelling out over the city, across the river, and up into the sky. Surely the gods must hear us, she thought.

Sansa knew most of the hymns, and followed along on those she did not know as best she could. She sang along with grizzled old serving men and anxious young wives, with serving girls and soldiers, cooks and falconers, knights and knaves, squires and spit boys and nursing mothers. She sang with those inside the castle walls and those without, sang with all the city. She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike, for Bran and Rickon and Robb, for her sister Arya and her bastard brother Jon Snow, away off on the Wall. She sang for her mother and her father, for her grandfather Lord Hoster and her uncle Edmure Tully, for her friend Jeyne Poole, for old drunken King Robert, for Septa Mordane and Ser Dontos and Jory Cassel and Maester Luwin, for all the brave knights and soldiers who would die today, and for the children and the wives who would mourn them, and finally, toward the end, she even sang for Tyrion the Imp and for the Hound. He is no true knight but he saved me all the same, she told the Mother. Save him if you can, and gentle the rage inside him.

But when the septon climbed on high and called upon the gods to protect and defend their true and noble king, Sansa got to her feet. The aisles were jammed with people. She had to shoulder through while the septon called upon the Smith to lend strength to Joffrey's sword and shield, the Warrior to give him courage, the Father to defend him in his need. Let his sword break and his shield shatter, Sansa thought coldly as she shoved out through the doors, let his courage fail him and every man desert him. — Sansa VI, ACOK

He had not been dead when she left the throne room. He had been on his knees, though, clawing at his throat, tearing at his own skin as he fought to breathe. The sight of it had been too terrible to watch, and she had turned and fled, sobbing. Lady Tanda had been fleeing as well. "You have a good heart, my lady," she said to Sansa. "Not every maid would weep so for a man who set her aside and wed her to a dwarf."

A good heart. I have a good heart. Hysterical laughter rose up her gullet, but Sansa choked it back down. The bells were ringing, slow and mournful. Ringing, ringing, ringing. They had rung for King Robert the same way. Joffrey was dead, he was dead, he was dead, dead, dead. Why was she crying, when she wanted to dance? Were they tears of joy? — Sansa V, ASOS

A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here.

Yet she stepped out all the same.

She pushed two of her snowballs together, added a third, packed more snow in around them, and patted the whole thing into the shape of a cylinder. When it was done, she stood it on end and used the tip of her little finger to poke holes in it for windows. The crenellations around the top took a little more care, but when they were done she had a tower. I need some walls now, Sansa thought, and then a keep. She set to work.

The snow fell and the castle rose. (...) It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. She found twigs and fallen branches beneath the snow and broke off the ends to make the trees for the godswood. For the gravestones in the lichyard she used bits of bark. Soon her gloves and her boots were crusty white, her hands were tingling, and her feet were soaked and cold, but she did not care. The castle was all that mattered. — Sansa VII, ASOS

"When Robert dies. Our poor brave Sweetrobin is such a sickly boy, it is only a matter of time. When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . . and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back . . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright. So those are your gifts from me, my sweet Sansa . . . Harry, the Eyrie, and Winterfell.” — Alayne II, AFFC

"What if Lord Nestor values honor more than profit?" Petyr put his arm around her. "What if it is truth he wants, and justice for his murdered lady?" He smiled. "I know Lord Nestor, sweetling. Do you imagine I'd ever let him harm my daughter?"

I am not your daughter, she thought. I am Sansa Stark, Lord Eddard's daughter and Lady Catelyn's, the blood of Winterfell.

"A touch of fear will not be out of place, Alayne. You've seen a fearful thing. Nestor will be moved." Petyr studied her eyes, as if seeing them for the first time. "You have your mother's eyes. Honest eyes, and innocent. Blue as a sunlit sea. When you are a little older, many a man will drown in those eyes." — Sansa I, AFFC

It had fallen out just as Petyr said it would, the day the ravens flew. "They're young, eager, hungry for adventure and renown. Lysa would not let them go to war. This is the next best thing. A chance to serve their lord and prove their prowess. They will come. Even Harry the Heir." He had smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. "What a clever daughter you are.

It was clever. The tourney, the prizes, the winged knights, it had all been her own notion. Lord Robert's mother had filled him full of fears, but he always took courage from the tales she read him of Ser Artys Arryn, the Winged Knight of legend, founder of his line. Why not surround him with Winged Knights? — Alayne I, WOW

All of them are strong, they simply display strength in a different manner. All of them are clever and goal-oriented, the way they go about achieving those goals differs. All of them are passionate, the way they purpose that passion differ. All of them love their family, the way they honor them differ. No matter which man is the catalyst of what happens to them, no matter who victimises them, they are the real players, the real achievers. They are resilient and they endure.

#daenerys stormborn #queen sansa #sansa stark #margaery tyrell #brienne of tarth #ymbq #queen cersei #cersei lannister

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waitingforwinterwinds · 1 year

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Game of Thrones - 40 CATELYN VII (pages 416-428)

Cat picks up some sus vibes from her sister, but puts them right back down again, and Bronn wins Tyrion's freedom.

Alyssa Arryn had seen her husband, her brothers, and children slain, and yet in life she had never shed a tear. So in death, the gods had decreed that she would know no rest until her weeping watered the black earth of the Vale, where the men she had loved were buried. Alyssa had been dead six thousand years now, and still no drop of the torrent had ever reached the valley floor far below. Catelyn wondered how large a waterfall her own tears would make when she died.

Are you sure about that? cause, water cycle babe, unless that earth is parched, her 'tears' have watered that ground for sure.

Poor Alyssa Arryn, she didn't dissolve into a weeping, wailing mess and got punished for eternity. It's all "she's too stoic and unfeeling" until a woman actually starts crying then she's an unstable wreck who proves one bad stereotype or another.

Love subtle world building like this, oooohhh, the tragedy of it all~ The sneaky peak at Cat's own mindset. Mmmm, the good stuff.

The builders had intended it as a godswood, but the Eyrie rested on the hard stone of the mountain, and no matter how much soil was hauled up from the Vale, they could not get a weirwood to take root here.

I feel like this says something about the presence of gods in the Eyrie, like it is a godless place, ruled by the hubris of men who climbed too high and now think themselves above the matters of other men. Or a place that shuns its history in favour of new fancies.

But also you would need just, so much soil and also a stable self sustaining biome to grow a tree, because it's not just dirt, soil is the good stuff, with the microorganisms, and you need nutrients for the tree, and where do they come from once the soil is tapped out? Trees need a lot.

"Life needs things to live."

"And I remind you, the dwarf murdered my lord husband!" Her voice rose. "He poisoned the Hand of the King and left my sweet baby fatherless, and now I mean to see him pay!"

Part of me wonders if part of her genuinely believes that. Every vibe I get from Lysa is that her brain is a scattered mess of cats, like she cracked under the strain of everything (not getting what she wanted as a girl (Petyr), being married to a man old enough to be her father, and taken to live in such a terrifying and remote location (the Eyrie) before being relocated to King's Landing which we all know out does Mos Eisley as the most wretched hive of scum and villainy) and now she doesn't even know she's lying because she's made herself believe in her own innocence. or she's 100% lying her ass of and deserves All the Oscars.

"I believe the Lannisters murdered Lord Arryn," Catelyn replied, "but whether it was Tyrion, or Ser Jaime, or the queen, or all of them together, I could not begin to say." Lysa had named Cersei in the letter she had sent to Winterfell, but now she seemed certain that Tyrion was the killer... perhaps because the dwarf was here, while the queen was safe behind the walls of the Red Keep, hundreds of leagues to the south. Catelyn almost wished she had burned her sister's letter before reading it.

So do we all. Come on Cat, even if you can't see this is her lie unraveling, you should at least be able to see this is retribution, not justice.

*sigh* you do though don't you, you know this is wrong, your instincts scream it at you, but you've walked yourself into a corner and you've only realised it now that you've gotten trapped.

"You are mistaken, Maester," Catelyn said. "It was Casterly Rock, not Dragonstone, and those arrangements were made after the Hand's death, without my sister's consent." The maester's head jerked so vigorously at the end of his absurdly long neck that he looked half a puppet himself. "No, begging your forgiveness, my lady, but it was Lord Jon who-"

Hindsight is flagging this conversation with so much red.

But Bronn jerked back. Jon Arryn's beautiful engraved silver sword glanced off the marble elbow of the weeping woman and snapped clean a third of the way up the blade. Bronn put his shoulder into the statue's back. The weathered likeness of Alyssa Arryn tottered and fell with a great crash, and Ser Vardis Egen went down beneath her.

That is so much more dynamic and a fun use of the terrain than fight up the stairs and down and kick him out the hole. It has that nice subtle hint of "the gods think you suck also." Like obviously the trial by combat is always decided by the better fighter, but I don't know, I just like it when 'fights overseen by the gods' have a trace of 'the higher powers were watching and they have no complaints with the outcome.'

You know, after this chapter I'm kind of wondering if the anti-stark sisters crew (the anti-sansa arya-stans and the anti-arya sansa-stans) are applying one sister relationship over another. Because Lysa and Cat are sisters too, who had a decent enough relationship as kids, but then they moved apart and grew apart and ended up on opposing sides at the end, are some people seeing that and thinking "this is how Sansa and Arya's story will go also" even though their relationship is kind of the opposite, they both felt like outsiders in their youth, like they were excluded by one another, but after all the shit they go through they both just want their family back. They went through different stuff, luckily, because neither would have survived the other's journey as much as we'd like to say they would, but at the end, the differences between them are going to look so petty and insignificant.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #catelyn stark #catelyn tully #a chapter a day reading #got

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megsironthrone · 3 years

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Runaway Bride

Based on this request: so this might be kinda long but how about a Jamie x reader. She’s the oldest stark or tully daughter and whilst jamie is kidnapped by robb, she talks to him and they become friendly. lady stark kinda brokers a deal to marry her to jamie. She doesn’t want to and is angry that she’s being married off and she runs off so they send brienne with jamie to find her. After the bolton’s find B+J they realise she’s also there. She tends to Jamie’s wounds and he’s kinda like “am i so bad that you wouldn’t marry me” she confesses that she likes him she just resents the idea of being married off and maybe it can be a fluffy ending with the two of them planning to escape?

Here you go, lovely! *Familiar characters are NOT mine!*

Warnings: little mentions of violence, arranged marriage, angst, and fluff. Mentions of nudity (nobody I know wears clothing in the bath)

Pairings/Characters: Jaime Lannister x fem!Stark reader, mentions of Brienne, Roose, Robb, and Catelyn.

When your brother had taken Jaime Lannister prisoner, you didn't think you'd get close to the Lannister lion. You were in charge of making certain Jaime was fed and given water. Robb insisted it was because of all the Starks in his camp, you were the most patient. You were pretty certain it was because he didn't want to deal with Jaime on his own and didn't trust your mother to do it.

During your time with him, you got pretty friendly with Jaime. He wasn't a bad guy and he didn't seem to dislike you the way he did the rest of your family. You weren't sure why but you weren't going to complain. The two of you got on pretty well. That was something your mother did not miss. However, you never would have guessed what she would do.

"YOU WHAT?!" you screamed, causing your brother's bannermen to look at you. Robb shushed you, but you glared at him before turning back to your mother. You were vaguely aware of Robb ending his strategy meeting so the three of you could discuss the surprise your mother had just dropped.

As soon as the three of you had the tent to yourselves, your mother spoke. "I wrote to Tywin Lannister. I offered an alliance between our houses in order to have your sisters returned to us. Through your marriage to Jaime Lannister." You began to shake with fury. "How could you do that to her, Mother? Why would you? I want Sansa and Arya returned to us as badly as you do, but not at the expense of Y/N's happiness."

"It is the best way to resolve this without more bloodshed. I will not risk losing two more of my children the way I lost your father." You shook your head and stormed off, ignoring her cries of your name. The first place you went was Jaime Lannister's makeshift cell.

"Did you know?!" you snapped at him. He looked up at you, surprise obvious in his green eyes. "What are you talking about? Or rather shouting?" You clenched your hands into fists. "Did you know that my mother sent a raven to your father about arranging our marriage?"

"Our what?!" You wanted to scream, but instead, you left Jaime without saying anything else. You were livid. Positively livid. Not about your mother's choice of husband for you, but the fact that she decided to marrying you off without any consideration for you or your feelings on the matter. You weren't going to lie down and take it. Social standards be damned. You refused to be a pawn in the stupid game everyone else seemed to be playing. So you did the only thing you could think of. You ran.

*time skip*

You ran your hands over your dress as you walked through the corridors of the Dreadfort. After you'd run from your mother, you'd ended up with Lord Roose Bolton. He'd been looking after you and trying to convince you to return to your family. You weren't quite ready to face them yet, so he offered to let you stay a little longer. Now it was time for the evening meal, but there was a lot of commotion around the holdfast. You soon found out why.

You entered the dining hall and froze in place. Sitting across from Roose was Brienne of Tarth and Jaime Lannister. "Lady Brienne. Ser Jaime." Jaime's head snapped up so he could meet your gaze. His hair was longer, dirty, and stringy. His beard had grown out. He didn't look like the cocky man you'd first met. But the most surprising thing about him was that one of his hands was missing.

"Lady Y/N, I am glad to see you safe," Brienne greeted, standing. You curtsied slightly, but didn't let your eyes wander from Jaime. Brienne cleared her throat a little. "Lady Y/N? I've been tasked with returning Ser Jaime to King's Landing…as well as yourself." Your flashed your gaze to her. She blushed and shrunk back a bit from your glare. "Let me guess, for the wedding?" She nodded. You sighed and looked to Jaime once more before curtsying to Roose. "Forgive me. I've lost my appetite. Lady Brienne. Ser Jaime." You left the room, doing your best not to run.

Later that evening, you decided on a warm bath. Luckily, Roose kept the bath houses warm most of the time. You sank into the tub, fighting back a groan as the warm water seeped into your muscles. You were only in for a few minutes when you heard someone else join you. Opening your eyes, you nearly jumped when you saw Jaime sitting across from you.

"What are you doing?!" you cried. Jaime scoffed lightly. "I thought I'd have a bath." You let out another sigh. No sense in arguing with the man. Your gaze fell to the stump where he'd lost his hand. "Have you been able to clean that properly?" He glanced down at it in disgust and then at you before shaking his head.

You bit your lip as you contemplated what to do. It didn't take you long to make up your mind. Not even registering that you were, in fact, naked, you stood and walked over to Jaime. You sat down next to him and unwrapped the injury. "I'm sorry they did this to you," you muttered. With as much care as you could, you began cleaning his wound.

For a while, neither of you said anything. To your surprise, it was Jaime that spoke first. "Was the idea of being married to me so repulsive that you had to run? Am I so bad that you wouldn't want to be married to me?" You stopped what you were doing so you could meet his gaze. "Jaime, I-I…It was never you I objected to. Our friendship or whatever it was is something I cherish. And I could see myself married to you. Loving you. I never wanted to be married off in some arrangement. Or for political advantage. And I especially never wanted to married off at the expense of my safety and happiness just to ensure the same for my sisters. I felt ignored and tossed aside. It was never you."

Jaime didn't reply at first so you went back to cleaning him up. After a few minutes, Jaime called your name. It was so soft at first you weren't certain you'd heard properly. "Y/N, look at me please." You looked up again to find him only a few centimeters away from your face. His remaining hand came up to cup your cheek.

"I am sorry you've been forced into this. I truly am and I will try to break off the betrothal if that is what you want. I cannot imagine you would want to be married to a man who harmed your family and who now has only one hand." You shushed him. "I couldn't care less about that," you told him, "It's your family and King's Landing that I don't think I can handle."

"Then we won't stay." You blinked at him in surprise and he continued, "I'm useless to the Kingsguard now. Father will want me in Casterly Rock. We wouldn't have to remain in King's Landing. And I would strive to be the husband that you deserve, if you'll only give me the chance." You could feel tears welling up in your eyes. "Jaime, are you sure?" He nodded without hesitation.

"I am. I don't know if I feel love for you. Truly I don't, but I think it might be the closest I've ever felt to anyone." You smiled before taking the chance to lean forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Then yes. I will marry you. But first we have to get out of the Dreadfort. Roose may pretend to have our best interests at heart, but I know better. At least Brienne and I are in danger…I'm certain Roose is allied with your father. We need to escape and head for King's Landing as soon as possible to speak to your father."

Jaime nodded and the two of you spoke in hushed voices as you planned your escape from the Dreadfort and finished your baths. You helped Jaime redress his wound and then dress. He made a few flirty comments while you dressed yourself that you laughed at. That was the Jaime you'd been falling in love with. You slept in the same bed that evening. "For your protection," Jaime had said. You didn't believe him, but he didn't matter. You were happy to be in his arms. Happy he gave you a choice. And happy that you'd made the right decision for you.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @etherealpotter @line-viper @frozenhuntress67 @cd1242 @gruffle1 @smalltownbigheart @igotmadskills

Jaime Lannister Tags: @faith-in-dean

#george r.r. martin #game of thrones #jaime lannister #jaime lannister x reader #jaime x reader

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malereader-inserts · 4 years

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To Serve Our King and Queen

Fandom: Game of Thrones Pairing: Daenerys Targeryen x Baratheon!Reader, Sansa Stark x Baratheon!Reader Summary: A story of heart break, love and heart break again. Word Count: 2,407 Request: Hey can u do a Daenerys x Baratheon reader where he is the son of cersei and Robert the true son. He used to be In love with Sansa but she wanted Joffrey so she break his heart. Reader leaves king’s landing with tyrion and meet Daenerys where both fall In love with each other. Later Sansa sees the reader with dany and Jon when they arrive to the north. Sansa is being disrespectful towards dany and reader put Sansa in her place and tells her to not talk to his WIFE like that ever again please. A/n: I changed it a bit, I wish it was a little bitter but oh well.

Cersei and Robert were married before he even became king, Tywin had faith that the Baratheon would overrule the Mad King. It was the start of the downfall of their marriage, the sex was lousy, but it got the lioness pregnant. You were a beautiful babe that Cersei had fallen in love with your looks.

You were a year old when your father overthrows the throne and becomes king of the seven kingdoms. You had a somewhat happy childhood, you were spoilt by your father more than your younger brother - Joffery. Whilst your mother somewhat loved you, you knew that she loved her golden crown children more than you, you had a suspicion about your siblings, they look too much of your uncle Jaime than your father, which was known that Baratheon seed was strong.

So, you were more of a father’s boy than your mother’s. At a young age, you were trained hard, went through advisers and teachers - teaching your expanding knowledge, your father demanded that you were to start off young in training to be king, making sure you know how to fight and be a respected knight just like your father. When you were growing up, you were told tales from your uncle Tyrion, who adored you because he could hold an intellectual conversation with you.

As you grew up, often at times you went with your father to go on hunting, even met with your dad’s best friend and his children. You often had playtime with them, being good friends with Robb and Jon, but you were always wanting to be with Sansa, your father laughs that you would marry Sansa when you two were older - Ned would laugh too.

As years gone past, you tried to ignore your father’s debauchery and your mother’s ever growing hatred towards you. You grew up to be a fine young man, despite being the son of two fucked up people, you were a loved prince - charming, caring and a fighter. You were too familiar with your mother’s manipulation that you were just as smart as her in playing games.

Tywin saw your potential to rule. The people will love you, they already do, because you weren’t fake but you knew when to stand your ground. You weren’t going to be pushed around, you knew your worth to that throne and you will be king whether your mother likes it or not.

You knew what you wanted but sometimes that’s not how it works out.

You wanted Sansa as a bride, when you arrived at Winterfell after so many years later, you saw how beautiful Sansa was. But, you could see how she was ogling on your brother Joffery, you scoffed - he’s not that big of a deal.

“Sansa be wise, pick (Y/n),” Robb says in their little family circle after being dismissed in greeting the king, “Jon and I know him better than you, and he’s a delight.”

“But, he’s not Joffery.”

Arya snorted, “Of course, you would want a little prat than an actual prince.”

“Joffery is a prince,” Sansa argued, “He’s handsome and I love him.”

“You barely know the boy,” Robb says with concern on his voice, “How do you even know if you love him?”

You tried winning Sansa’s heart, but before you left Winterfell, Sansa had pulled you aside, you had a little bit of hope but you had seen how she was all over your brother and was by his side every opportunity she could get.

You got your heartbroken by her, she was honest and you were thankful for that, but it hurt your heart. Sure, the two of you were still young, feelings can change like the wind and nothing is certain in the future.

When you arrived home, you talked to your dad about it and for once, he got serious - talking about that even if you were rejected you should always try to pursue her. He then laughed it off saying Baratheon men don’t have much luck with Stark ladies, but you could see in the pain in his father’s eyes as he remembers Lyanna Stark.

When your father died there were talks about who will inherit the throne, Cersei was quick on her game to get Joffery on the throne, you were livid. There was a screaming match between you and your mother in front of the small council before venomously bidding her hell. It was Varys, who started to tell you to leave because there were talks of your mother that she was going to hire people to kill you.

You couldn’t risk that, so you took a route down to the deepest part of Kings landing, keeping yourself out of sight, picking up a stray sword that caught your eye.

That’s your story really.

Anyone back home would believe that you were killed or dead, and suffered in the rule of Joffery Baratheon. People called your the lost prince of hope, their last strand of hope.

Tyrion did not expect to see you alive and by Daenarys side when he entered Esso, running away with the potential of execution on his head. When he saw you, it had been a few years that had past, you were a lot different.

Your hair was longer, you had grown more muscle mass, must of because you trained with Greyworm. You stood up straighter as if you had a purpose, but you looked happier. What your uncle did not expect was to look at the silver haired woman with such love.

It was a familiar look that he had seen, it was the same look you used to stare at Sansa with. But, to Tyrion’s surprised the look with returned. When you weren’t paying attention or was looking away, Daenerys would give you the same look of love. Tyrion asked Barristan, who laughs and nods.

“Those two? In love like any other teenagers!” He laughs, shaking his head, “They’re betrothed to each other, looking for the perfect time to marry. Daenerys has explicitly said that she wanted no one by her side when she becomes Queen, but learning Ser (Y/n) story, she realised that the two of them have the biggest claim to the throne, rightfully, and on the way, she fell in love with him as did he.”

“Of course,” Tyrion nodded, “I would have liked to see my nephew rule the seven kingdoms, at least he has the birthright unlike Joffery and his siblings.”

“Bastards?” Ser Barristan asked as Tyrion nodded, “Well, that explains the blond hair.”

“I know for the fact that (Y/n) would rule with a good heart, he was trained and he has compassion, he fought any manipulation and lies that were fed to him.”

“Yes,” the knight nods, “I wonder what the people of Westeros would think when they find out a Baratheon could ride a dragon.”

As months past, years past on, Tyrion watched his nephew enjoy his life fighting for what is rightfully his alongside his wife, who loves him as much as he did. There was no one better to rule the Realms other than two great leaders. Tyrion watched how Daenerys freed slaves and took control, Tyrion remembers how you were as a prince.

“Was there someone you loved before me?” Daenerys asked once, it was on the sail back to Westeros, she could see how excited you were to return home.

You looked at her, “I did, once,” You say, remembering how Dany had disclosed her lovers to you before, “She was fiery, but unlikely you who is made of fire and blood, it was her striking red hair - her name was Sansa Stark.”

“Is she-?”

“My uncle has told me before he had fled that she was alive, but I have no idea where she is now or if she is alive. I’m sure she turned to be a fine young lady.”

Dany raised an eyebrow, “Do tell more.”

“Well, as you know I am of Lannister blood.”

“I am aware,” Dany says distastefully, cringing that you were of blood of the man who murdered her father and you were the son of the man who killed her brother.

“She was more in love with my brother, Joffery. Half-brother because I had my suspicion that he wasn’t of Baratheon blood. You could say he’s pure, like you.”

Dany nods, knowing what you mean, after all, she is in a long line of keeping her blood pure as her relatives were all related one way or another. She hates to think the fact if she were to marry her narcissistic brother, Viserys, whilst both of you acknowledge that you two were distantly related - it was a fact that she was willing to ignore.

“He was a cunt,” You laughed whilst your wife giggles next to you in bed, “Spoilt and full of himself, I don’t want to imagine what his rule was like, but stories from my uncle it seems to appear as hell.”

“And she picked him over you?” Daenerys asked, raising an eyebrow, “Well, her loss, I think I have a great man before me. A true king.”

You chuckle, smiling at her lovingly, kissing her forehead, “Shall we sleep, my love?”

“No,” She pouts as you can’t help but find it adorable, “I think you should tell me tales of Westeros, after all, it’s more of your home than it is of mine.”

You weren’t expecting to return to Winterfell, but, it demanded it’s independence, which you thought was outrageous - really. You were reunited with Jon, who greets you with a smile, a joke and good hug - it has been a while since you’ve seen your best friend, glad to see him alive.

You thought that you were going to take over Kings landing, but having to take a detour route to Winterfell to battle in a war of the undead. Although, you get to see your mother before going to the North.

You relish the sight to see her and your uncle Jaime astonished that you were alive and knowing you were going back to claim for the throne. Cersei did not miss how your eyes darken and the glimmer of your sword.

“Mother.”

“Son.”

It was the only interaction you had with her, she refused to come to talk to you, you weren’t surprised - you lacked a mother’s love as you grew up. But, Jaime tried his best to get you to talk to him. You shook off his advances before turning to Jon and Daenerys.

You were surprised to see Sansa, as she was with you. Arya had noticed how she was staring.

“You’re staring, do you have regrets?”

Sansa cleared her throat and stood up straight, “No, he’s just grown.”

“So, have you, perhaps you have a chance at wooing him,” Arya hums looking over to you, talking to Jon with Daenerys by your side, “I can’t deny that he is very handsome.”

You barely got to talk to Sansa when everyone was preparing to war, luckily that your group of people survived the war. But, Missandei was down in the tombs with Sansa and Tyrion where she had heard that Sansa was disrespecting your wife.

Missandei was going to tell her Queen, but rather think other when she sees you walking towards her with a smile - she knew that you were better to handle it. She saw how your jaw locked, no one was going to disrespect your wife.

“Thank you, Missandei, please be with Dany, I’ll sort her out.”

You went to Jon first, who was confused at his cousin after you and Dany told him that he was actually the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. Jon had his whole heart to support you and Dany’s plan to rule the seven kingdoms, agreeing that despite Winterfell wanting independence, they would struggle.

Sansa was trying to find the right ways to talk to you, perhaps try and mend the relationship. But, when you were looking at her as you stride towards her - she thinks differently.

Tyrion was in the room, trailing behind you as well as Varys. Jon followed closely behind whilst Arya looked confused, looking at her sister.

“How dare you disrespect your Queen!”

No greetings, no smile upon your face, fury on your expression and for once in her life, Sansa no longer recognise the sweet boy from many years ago.

“You should owe her your life after she came to rescue your home! She brought dragons and not once has she spoken about the clear disrespect that you and your people wore. She is not mad like her father at all.”

Tyrion, Varys, Jon and many other people could agree to that, Daenerys was nothing like her father and it was mostly because of you. You were her constant grounding, bringing her to reality and knowing that you will always be by her side.

“She’s not my Queen!” Sansa snaps back, gritting her teeth, “I don’t think she should be if anything if someone was to take the throne it should be you! It’s been rightfully yours since your father died.”

“It is my throne,” You sneered as Sansa stops upon hearing your words, “You’re not only disrespecting your queen, you are disrespecting my wife.”

Wife.

Her hearts shatter, she wonders is that how you felt when she had rejected you. Your eyes were cold, your stance was stiff and the lost Valyrian sword matches it’s current owner - you. It reflected who you were, shiny and attractive, but can cut so deeply - it was hard to recover from it’s inflicted wounds.

“You shall never bad mouth the throne, you hear me?” You pressed on, your tone turning stern that she reluctantly nods, “Don’t test me, Stark.”

With that, you turn on your heel and leave the room, leaving the occupants confused and somewhat terrified.

“Well...” Arya breaks the silence, “Sansa?”

Her heart was broken, she thought this time she could find love. She was never Joffery’s, she refuses to be claimed by Ramsey and she lost Theon. But, she could not let a man ruin her thoughts, putting up a wall as she looks away from where you last were.

“I believe we all have a meeting on how we will accompany our King and Queen to the throne.”

She dreads to see you because she knows when she arrives - you will look at Daenerys with love and it’ll be returned.

#daenerys targeryan #daenerys targeryan imagine #daenerys targeryan x male reader #sansa stark imagine #sansa stark x male reader #Sansa Stark #x male reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of throne x male reader

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kaorym · 3 years

Text

The Different Types of Cersei’s Abuse to Jaime

Physical abuse

direct assault on the body (choking, strangulation, shaking, eye injuries, biting, slapping, pushing, spitting, burning, punching, kicking, pulling hair)

use of weapons including objects

hurting the children

locking the victim in or out of the house or rooms

forcing the victim to take drugs

not allowing medication, food or medical care

not allowing sleep

Verbal abuse

swearing and continual humiliation, in private or in public

attacks on intelligence, sexuality, body image and capacity as a parent and spouse

ridiculing religious beliefs or ethnic background

screaming, shouting, name-calling, put-downs

Psychological abuse

creating fear, such as driving dangerously, possessing weapons, angry looks

destroying property or valued possessions

hurting or killing pets in front of family members

making threats regarding custody of any children

saying that the police and the courts will not help, support or believe the victim

threatening to ‘out’ the person

Spiritual or religious abuse

using spiritual or religious beliefs to scare, hurt or control you

stopping you or shaming you for practising your spiritual or religious beliefs

forcing you or your children to take part in spiritual or religious practices when you don't want to

forcing you to raise your children according to spiritual or religious beliefs you don't agree with

using religious or spiritual leaders or teachings to force you to stay in the relationship or marriage, as an excuse for their violent and abusive behaviour, stop you or your children from getting medical or health care, force you into a marriage you don't want

Sexual abuse

any form of pressured or unwanted sex or sexual degradation causing pain during sex

assaulting genitals (hurting your private parts)

forced sex without protection against pregnancy or sexually transmitted disease

making the victim perform sexual acts unwillingly (including taking or distributing explicit photos without their consent)

criticising or using sexually degrading insults

Emotional abuse

blaming the victim for all problems in the relationship

constantly comparing the victim with others to undermine their self-esteem and self-worth

sporadic sulking

withdrawing all interest and engagement (for example, weeks of silent treatment)

emotional blackmail and suicidal threats

--------------------------------

"Father will never consent," Jaime objected.

"The king won't ask him. And once it's done, Father can't object, not openly. Aerys had Ser Ilyn Payne's tongue torn out just for boasting that it was the Hand who truly ruled the Seven Kingdoms. The captain of the Hand's guard, and yet Father dared not try and stop it! He won't stop this, either."

"But," Jaime said, "there's Casterly Rock . . ."

"Is it a rock you want? Or me?"

--------------------------------

He remembered that night as if it were yesterday. They spent it in an old inn on Eel Alley, well away from watchful eyes. Cersei had come to him dressed as a simple serving wench, which somehow excited him all the more. Jaime had never seen her more passionate. Every time he went to sleep, she woke him again. By morning Casterly Rock seemed a small price to pay to be near her always. He gave his consent, and Cersei promised to do the rest.

--------------------------------

"Ser Loras is thrice the man Ser Osmund is."

"Your notions of manhood have changed somewhat, brother."

Jaime felt his anger rising. "True, Loras does not leer at your teats the way Ser Osmund does, but I hardly think—"

"Think about this." Cersei slapped his face.

Jaime made no attempt to block the blow. "I see I need a thicker beard, to cushion me against my queen's caresses."

--------------------------------

"Jaime," she sobbed, "don't you think I want it as much as you do? It makes no matter who they wed me to, I want you at my side, I want you in my bed, I want you inside me. Nothing has changed between us. Let me prove it to you." She pushed up his tunic and began to fumble with the laces of his breeches.

Jaime felt himself responding. "No," he said, "not here." They had never done it in White Sword Tower, much less in the Lord Commander's chambers. "Cersei, this is not the place."

"You took me in the sept. This is no different." She drew out his cock and bent her head over it.

Jaime pushed her away with the stump of his right hand. "No. Not here, I said." He forced himself to stand.

For an instant he could see confusion in her bright green eyes, and fear as well. Then rage replaced it. Cersei gathered herself together, got to her feet, straightened her skirts. "Was it your hand they hacked off in Harrenhal, or your manhood?" As she shook her head, her hair tumbled around her bare white shoulders. "I was a fool to come. You lacked the courage to avenge Joffrey, why would I think that you'd protect Tommen? Tell me, if the Imp had killed all three of your children, would that have made you wroth?"

--------------------------------

"You great golden fool. He's lied to you a thousand times, and so have I." She bound up her hair again, and scooped up the hairnet from the bedpost where she'd hung it. "Think what you will. The little monster is in a black cell, and soon Ser Ilyn will have his head off. Perhaps you'd like it for a keepsake." She glanced at the pillow. "He can watch over you as you sleep alone in that cold white bed. Until his eyes rot out, that is."

"You had best go, Cersei. You're making me angry."

"Oh, an angry cripple. How terrifying." She laughed. "A pity Lord Tywin Lannister never had a son. I could have been the heir he wanted, but I lacked the cock. And speaking of such, best tuck yours away, brother. It looks rather sad and small, hanging from your breeches like that."

--------------------------------

Her face twisted in fury. "I begged you for your help. I went down on my knees to you, and you refused me!"

"My vows . . ."

". . . did not stop you slaying Aerys. Words are wind. You could have had me, but you chose a cloak instead. Get out."

"Sister . . ."

"Get out, I said. I am sick of looking at that ugly stump of yours. Get out!" To speed him on his way, she heaved her wine cup at his head. She missed, but Jaime took the hint.

--------------------------------

"I know that Aurane Waters is a bad idea, and Hallyne is a worse one. As for Qyburn . . . gods be good, Cersei, he rode with Vargo Hoat. The Citadel stripped him of his chain!"

"The grey sheep. Qyburn has made himself most useful to me. And he is loyal, which is more than I can say of mine own kin."

--------------------------------

#cersei lannister #jaime lannister #cersei is an abuser #feel free to add more #abuse #anti jaime x cersei #anti lanniscest #anti twincest

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melrosing · 3 years

Note

Saw your comment on one of maesterleias posts and i have to say. I don't think Cersei is frozen in time. Something that separates her and Tyrion from Jaime is that they both have drives. What I'm saying is that George deliberatly gives her childlike monologue and personality traits that i don't think he gives her siblings.

Like this sort of speech: "And my father. My lord father. Should I scream and tear my hair? Would you like that, Father? she wanted to ask him. Or would you want me to be strong? Did you weep for your own father?" is so peculiar for someone like Cersei and her perception in fandom. It's not something that is super prevalent but I find it a fascinating piece of characterization.

Sorry, from this ask I'm not sure if you're Leia's anon/how much you agree or disagree with said anon so apologies if I'm getting your angle wrong w my answer here! I'm taking this to mean you feel that whilst she's not frozen in time, she still has a childish mentality??

And my feeling is, whilst I think there is an immaturity about Cersei's behaviour, I don't think she has a child's/teenager's mentality (and nor do Jaime or Tyrion for that matter). That quote doesn't really suggest a child's mindset to me, but more Cersei's struggle to feel anything for the man she's just lost, as well as her weighing up the role of Tywin's noble daughter on one hand (who should weep at his bedside), and that of his heir on the other (who should stand strong). Tywin's death has temporarily stranded her between those two roles, and her lack of feeling for his loss has just left her assessing what the best way to react should be in either one.

Also, Jaime kind of goes through the same thought processes himself. He also wonders if he's supposed to weep, whether Tywin wept for his father or not, etc. So I wouldn't say there's anything about these thoughts that points to a uniquely childish mentality in Cersei, more the impact of Tywin's parenting (or lack of it). It's definitely an interesting passage though!

One thing I do feel with the Lannister children in particular is that they've kind of infantilised themselves in always thinking of themselves as Tywin's children rather than adults in their own right (compare to the others of their generation e.g. Ned, Cat, Robert, Stannis, etc etc) - and Tywin kind of infantilises them in life as well, still trying to tell each of them what to do and who to marry and reminding them of their status in relation to him. So there's probably something to be said of them defining themselves as (Tywin's) children and struggling to make sense of themselves as adults independent of him post-ASOS - that certainly includes Cersei, who was most reliant on his example and arguably the one afforded least independence from him of the three. But I think this is all quite different from a child's mentality.

#ask #cersei lannister #asoiaf

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crispmarshmallow · 3 years

Text

and it’s so gut wrenching

Love me with your worst intentions.

It had been a wedding gift from her brothers - a beautiful dagger commissioned by Doran and crafted by the blacksmith in Sunspear and bejeweled with the most precious stones Oberyn had acquired from across the Narrow Sea. They gifted it to her in a small chest as decorated as the weapon it carried before she left for Kingslanding.

Elia had picked up the dagger from the velvet inside of the chest and relished in the feeling of it between her fingers when they handed it over to her. She had loved it. Daggers were one of the few weapons she had learned to use. One of the few that her delicate health allowed her to possess. I do not think I will need it. She had said to them. I will be a Princess of the Realm with many a sword and a Prince sworn to my protection. Doran and Oberyn insisted nonetheless - they would sleep easier if they knew she was not unarmed.

And she had not had any need for it. She took it with her wherever she travelled - from Dragonstone to Kingslanding and back - but she rarely took it out of its chest. Rare occasions being the ones when she had it lightly polished so it would not lose its lustre.

Elia had never felt the need for it. Until she did - at Harrenhal. Rhaegar had crowned another who was not her. And she knew - just knew - what precarious protection that her husband promised her within the Sept of Baelor was no more.

Rhaegar rode past her after his victory against Selmy and though she felt insulted and neglected she kept her face neutral. She had perfected her mask as a princess far before she could even remember. She watched Rhaegar hand over the woven crown of winter roses to Lyanna Stark. She watched the uproar he caused. And she knew. Rhaegar had always been so cautious - he would risk so much for so little.

It did not matter that she carried his child within her - a child that could possibly be his heir. It was the last child that she would likely ever bear according to Pycelle. She had given Rhaegar Rhaenys and soon she will give another. The dragon must have three heads. Isn’t that what he always whispered to her? And she could not bear a third.

Elia had noticed how his sweet little promises of love had grown far less frequent after the diagnosis by Pycelle. And she suddenly knew that was the reason - knew that was why he spurned her before all of Westeros for a woman already betrothed. She could no longer be an instrument in his precious prophecy.

And so Elia took the dagger out its chest that night and slept with it under her pillow. She continued to do so after they left Harrenhal.

Painted us a happy ending

She could not sweep Rhaegar’s actions under the rug. Elia had her pride and dignity to salvage. He had insulted her. House Martell. Dorne. And even his own children by neglecting her before the entire realm.

However, Elia and the little babe within her and Rhaenys held little power outside Dorne without Rhaegar. And so she could do no more than be as cold as the winters the House of his little Lyanna liked to warn of. Oh, a part of her wanted to do so much more. She wanted to coat her precious dagger in the poisons that Oberyn liked to experiment with so much and prick a small wound into her husband. She knew she could not do so though - she depended on him far too much. Moreover, it would tear her heart into two.

It took an effort on her part, even with those dark thoughts, to be so cold to him. Somewhere along all the sweet promises he used to whisper when she had some use to him had made her grow to love him. Her coldness towards him and Aerys’ continued descent into madness was taking a toll on her.

Pycelle had begun to worry for the child. And that made Rhaegar come seeking for forgiveness. Until then, he took her treatment with silence - ignoring anything out of the ordinary. Until then.

Rhaegar had apologized and kissed her tears of fury away. He whispered to her of how Lyanna Stark had been the Knight of the Laughing Tree and that his act had only been a reward for her valor and bravery and nothing more. He whisked Elia and Rhaenys away from Kingslanding to Dragonstone and catered to her every need.

And Elia had begun to believe his acts of repentance. He had looked so proud of her when she gave birth to little Aegon and how a comet shone over them as she did. He sang little Aegon a beautiful song. He said that little beautiful Aegon was the Prince that was Promised.

Elia had begun to believe him and his promises again. She had. Just not enough to put the dagger back into its chest.

Everytime you burned me down,

She loved him. She believed him. And she cursed herself for it. She wished she buried her dagger into his chest while she had a chance.

Rhaegar had insisted that they return to Kingslanding a month or two after sweet Aegon joined them. They had presented Aegon to Aerys and surprisingly garnered thin approval from the Mad King.

After that Rhaegar had left Kingslanding with two of the Kingsguard in tow. I must do this for the realm. He had refused to tell her what. Elia had supposed that it must have something to do with his plans in overthrowing Aerys.

She did not think him foolish enough to go and run off with Lyanna Stark. She didn't think he would risk war for a woman. And yet he did.

He ran off with her. Brandon Stark demanded justice and he and his father were slaughtered before her eyes and the eyes of the court in a way so brutal that Elia began to have nightmares of her and her children in their place. Burning as Rhaegar watched passively - caring none for his family.

As he did at the moment. War raged in the realm and no one knew where he was. And so nothing stopped Aerys from mistreating her and her children without Rhaegar in the city. Picking her as his target when he lashed out.

He hurled insult after insult against her - blaming her for Rhaegar’s indiscretions. He had her humiliated before the court. Elia did her best to ensure that Rhaenys and Aegon were never in the vicinity when Aerys gathered in the Throne Room. She made sure Ashara had whisked them away to some quiet corner in the Keep while Aerys had his attention on her.

She endured it - for her children. She would do anything for them. As she would have for Rhaegar. As Rhaegar would not have done for them. As he did not do for them.

And Elia began to sleep at night with the dagger in one hand as Rhaenys curled around her body and she cradled Aegon in the other hand.

Don’t know how, for a moment it felt like heaven

He came back to head the armies that he neglected for so long. Baratheon bagged victory after victory and Rhaegar could no more ignore his responsibility as the Prince and heir to House Targaryen.

She had not bothered to welcome him. She feigned illness to avoid it - an excuse that was all too plausible. She did not want to see him after he returned from doing what he did with Lyanna Stark.

However, Rhaegar saw fit to visit her and his children before he left for the battlefield. He came to Aegon’s nursery where Elia and Rhaenys spent most of their time these days. He came fitted in his armor decked with rubies and jewels and looked every bit the Prince that he was. The sight of him made her chest tighten with sadness and loathing and happiness at seeing him after so long.

She watched him scoop Rhaenys into his arms and kiss her on the nose and whisper something that made his daughter burst into giggles. It would be so easy for Elia to think that he cared about his children - more than he cared about his stupid prophesy - to think that they could be a happy little family. Eventually, he put Rhaenys down and moved to pick up the sleeping Aegon to press a kiss to his forehead.

He approached Elia next. She curtsied to him and let him embrace her. She basked in its warmth for a moment. He whispered his little promises in her ears and Elia wondered if they always sounded so ridiculous. Lyanna Stark was the ice to his fire. Lyanna Stark was with child in Dorne. Rhaegar took his mistress to the homeland of his wife.

Elia wanted to scream in fury and unleash the wrath of the Sun onto him - not even a dragon could prevail before the heat of the Sun. She thought of her dagger once more and of the satisfaction she would feel to see it in his heart. But it still remained that Elia was powerless without her husband. So she let him kiss her softly and let him mistake her tears of anger as tears of sadness at seeing him leave for battle.

“Who do you think he fights for?” She had asked Ser Jaime - the last of the Kingsguard in Kingslanding - a hostage to ensure the loyalty of his family as she was, as they watched Rhaegar and his host leave the city. . “Do you think he fights to keep Aerys on the Throne? Or to place himself upon it? Or so he can keep little Lyanna Stark? Do you think he fights for Aegon and Rhaenys?”

Jaime had hesitated. “He fights for you all, Princess.” It was an empty answer. Elia knew that the young knight almost worshipped the ground that Rhaegar walked upon.

All? Elia had scoffed. “And yet he does not fight for me.” He never has and never will.

Rhaegar did not see fit to update her of his wellbeing or the state of war and the little news she received was always from Varys or Jaime.

And a day came where Varys told her that her husband fell on the battlefield at the hands of Robert Baratheon - the name of Lyanna Stark on his tongue. Elia’s heart mourned while the darker parts of her soul rejoiced to see the man die at the hands of little Lyanna’s betrothed.

However, with his death it became more evident than ever how her position had depended on Rhaegar. Aerys blamed the Dornish for Rhaegar’s fate. He kept Elia and her children as he sent Viserys and Rhaella to Dragonstone - but not before stripping Aegon of his status as heir and handing it over to Viserys.

Elia lost almost everything after her husband died - the husband that had thought not of his children or wife in his last moments.

All Elia thought was of her children and she walked the corridors of the Red Keep with her dagger tucked into the sleeves of her dress with the two of them always by her side.

And it’s so gut wrenching,

Aerys opened the gates for Tywin Lannister and Elia knew there was no hope. All she could think of as she rushed through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast with Rhaenys holding on to her hand and a babe in her other was that she was thankful that Aegon was away and safe with Varys.

Elia did not trust Varys - he had simply been her only choice to keep her babe alive. If Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister did not kill Aegon, Elia knew Aerys would. So she had let Varys take him to safety and she hated him with every part of her being for not taking Rhaenys too.

She hid them in the chambers of her dead husband as she could hear the chaos coming closer and closer. She tried to keep her tears of fury and fear and helplessness at bay as she told Rhaenys to hide beneath her father’s bed as if the piece of furniture would protect her as her father should have. She let her take Balerion with her - her little black kitten. Elia could only wish that the kitten was as powerful as its namesake. Alas, she could only wish as the noise got louder.

She slipped her dagger out of her sleeves and clutched it so tightly between her fingers that it hurt. She had none to protect her and Rhaenys and the babe that she held. Jaime was with Aerys and Barristan was captured by the Rebels and the rest were with her husband’s precious Lyanna Stark.

She murmured to the children in the room as she could hear heavy footsteps itching closer to them - trying to reassure them and herself. She would not let them be harmed without a fight. She would protect them with the dagger that she thought she would never have to use and all that she had.

She would protect them as the man she loved and their father should have. She would protect Rhaenys and Aegon and even the child that she held and Elia Martell knew that it would still not be enough.

Falling in the wrong direction.

Contains lyrics from Wrong Direction by Hailee Steinfeld © Warner Chappell Music, Inc, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

#Elia Martell #Rhaegar Targaryen #Lyanna Stark #Young Griff #Aegon VI targaryen #Rhaenys Targaryen #mad king aerys #robert's rebellion #jaime lannister #tourney of harrenhal #ELIA MARTELL DESERVED BETTER #RHAEGAR TARGARYEN CAN BURN IN HELL FOR ALL I CARE #fanfic #crispmarshmallow #got #game of thrones #asoiaf

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the-great-bbe · 3 years

Text

Ready or Not!

Rhaenys crawls under her father’s bed. Mama was quite clear: they were playing hide and seek, and Rhaenys needed to hide her best from all the men looking for her. She stifles a giggle into her little hands. After the count of ten—ready or not, here they come!

or a quick little fanfic, about our favorite game of hide and seek :)

Lyrics of “The Hide and Seek Song” copyright by Headquarters Music.

youtube

Who wants to play a game? It’s time for hide and seek!

Mama kisses Rhaenys’s forehead. Egg sleeps in his cradle, despite all the noise coming from outside. It sounds scary out there, but Rhaenys is safe with Mama and Egg. Mama will never let anything bad happen to her, not even the nightmares that scare Rhaenys in the middle of the night.

“Let’s play a game, my sweet.” Mama’s hands are shaking, and her voice is high pitched. But everything must be fine, because they’re going to play a game. And not just any game, but hide and seek! “Listen carefully. Many men will try and find us, but we can’t be found by anyone. When the game is over, I’ll come get you myself, do you understand? You must hide very well, not even Balerion can find you.”

Rhaenys nods. “I’m good at this game, Mama! I’ll hide forever and ever and then we’ll have honey cakes after dinner.” Maybe if Rhaenys hides the best she can, Mama will let her have two entire honey cakes!

Mama kisses her again, and hugs her so tight that Rhaenys squeaks against her shoulder. “My little sunshine, I love you so much. Now hide. Hide!”

Rhaenys scurries off. Mama is really worried even if she didn’t say so. This game must be very important—perhaps Grandfather is playing too, even though he never plays games. So where should she hide? Maybe behind the barrels in the wine cellar, or in the gardens? No, beneath Papa’s bed! No one ever goes in his room anymore, and the space is so small that only she and Balerion can fit!

She tiptoes up the stairs, and closes the bedroom door so that it’s almost shut but not entirely. Closed doors are more suspicious in hide and seek, after all. Then she tucks herself beneath the bed, and arranges the heavy bedspread so that it’s not wrinkled. Rhaenys shimmies to the very edge of where the bedframe meets the wall, and waits.

She waits, and waits. She almost wants to go back and ask Mama for how long they’re supposed to play, and how many players. But instead she wiggles with anticipation. Mama was quite clear: they were playing hide and seek, and Rhaenys needed to hide her best from all the men looking for her. And Rhaenys is the very best at hiding! She stifles a giggle into her little hands. After the count of ten, or maybe a hundred—ready or not, here they come!

Rhaenys spies a shadow by the almost-closed door, and holds her breath.

-- Run, run, run! Time to run and hide!

Run, run, run! And now I’m going to find you, scurry off into the darkness.

Hurry, I’m behind you!

Don’t you speak! Hide and seek!

“Myrcella! Myrcella, where are you?”

Myrcella bites her lip. Joffrey is no good at being a seeker, he gets too angry and starts shouting for her and the servant children. And of course the servants come out, and Joffrey is so mean when he catches someone! But not Myrcella—she is the very best at this game, and she would rather fall asleep beneath this dusty old bed than let Joffrey win.

Mother tells her to let Joffrey win, to keep him from throwing a tantrum, but Uncle Tyrion says that it’s good for even the Crown Prince to be told no every now and then. She sniffles. One of the serving girls showed her this hiding spot, saying that no one ever looks under here since it’s so deep in Maegoir’s Holdfast and who can fit beneath a bed anyway?

Why does the Hand even have this room—maybe this is where Lady Lysa is supposed to sleep, instead of in Lord Littlefinger’s rooms. Myrcella isn’t supposed to know about that, of course. But she knows a lot. She knows that Joffrey isn’t going to be a very good king, and that Mother and Father should’ve never married, and that the mean old black cat Tommen wants to catch had another owner before. Myrcella heard Uncle Jaime speak about him once, and the person who owned the cat before. Uncle Jaime says many things about before Myrcella was born, but only when he is drunk and sad.

She twists a bit of string around her string until her finger turns purple. By now Joffrey must have found Sweetrobin and Tommen. She hopes that Sweetrobin cried and punched Joffrey in the nose. He gets to hit Joffrey without getting in trouble, since his father is the Hand. Myrcella is just a girl though, and must be a sweet little lady who lets Joffrey do whatever he wants. Last time she complained to him about cheating in games, he bit her ear. Mother wiped her tears and told her to bear it with a smile. Myrcella stopped complaining after that, but it still burns in her stomach.

Father says he won’t be like this forever, at least. Myrcella hopes so. She imagines him fully grown, but still the same way, and instead of twisting her arm he twists her neck. Just like Tommen’s kitten that bit him once. Joffrey let the poor little creature under Tommen’s bed, and Tommen screamed about monsters for weeks afterward. She sighs. There aren’t any monsters here that Myrcella doesn’t already know.

Myrcella hears footsteps down the corridor and holds her breath. Oh, if Joffrey finds her, he’ll tug at her hair and scratch at her arms! He’ll be so horrible, he always is! She’d rather die than be found by him!

Tiptoe through the cellar or crawl under your bed.

Anywhere you’ve fled, I am going to find you!

Stay inside the shadows, all you girls and boys.

Don’t you make noise, or I am going to find you!

“Are you afraid?” Myriame asks Arya, but she shakes her head. She refuses to be afraid. Not now, when they’re still hiding from the men who took Father away and locked Sansa in her room.

She shivers and Myriame pats her arm. She’s one of the serving girls—Arya heard Father call them Lord Varys’s little birds, once. Before everything went so wrong. But when Father was taken, a group of serving girls took Arya by the arm and hid with her in an alcove. They cut her hair, they dirtied her face, they shredded her fine dress and pinned a dirty pinafore to her shoulders. No more Arya Stark, just Nan. Nan, amongst Myriame, and Celia, and Delight, and Sera. Just another serving girl hiding behind curtains, nor beneath the bed.

“It will be alright,” Myriame whispers. “The only ones who go down here are us. Everyone else gets caught like Princess Myrcella. Those men won’t ever get us.”

Arya shivers. No one speaks of Princess Myrcella and how she disappeared without a trace. Did bad men steal her away like Father and Sansa? She dares to ask, “How do you know?”

But then their breath because there’s men outside their room. Their voices are harsh and drip with ill intent. One of them calls Sansa a whore and Arya wants to stab his eyes out with Needle. But then they enter the room and she squeezes her eyes shut and holds her hands over her nose and mouth. They can’t find her. They can’t! They’ll take her away from Father and Sansa, and who knows what they’ll do to Myriame!

There are four beds in this room, a servants’ dorm. Arya dares to peek. They check beneath one bed. Then another. One of the men cackles, “I can smell you, little girl! Where are you hiding?”

Neither of them dare to breathe. The man says in a high pitched mockery voice, “Ready or not, here I come!”

Arya burrows into Myriame’s side and waits to die. There is noise, yelling, shouting, terrible noise. Then there is heavy silence, only broken by Myriame’s breaths. Arya doesn’t dare open her eyes. Not for a second.

Myriame murmurs again that it will be alright, but Arya keeps her eyes firmly shut, counting the seconds.

Run, run, run! Creep up on my grave!

Run, run, run! Stalk the night away!

Scuttle off into the night! But what’ll be behind you?

Don’t you speak! Hide and seek!

Tywin barricades the doors shut in his wrath. How do two grown knights go missing in daylight?! And not just any knights, but his own—he needs Gregor Clegane’s bloodlust to scour the Riverlands, like a beast on a leash. And Amory Lorch is slime suited for the most unsavory tasks that Tywin cannot do. But they are gone, disappeared without a trace.

Just like his granddaughter Myrcella.

He sheaves himself onto his chair and pours himself a goblet from a blood red decanter. Years have passed, and still Cersei blames the Dornish. But even Tywin can’t point the finger at them, as there is no evidence at all. Myrcella simply played hide and seek one day, and was never found. Most likely some depraved monster of a servant took the girl for his own desires and threw her into the Blackwater, a fate entirely underserved for anyone of House Lannister. The fact that the girl was too sweet to harm a fly just makes the wound sting greater. Without her calming influence, Joffrey is an unhinged little bastard, and Tommen a spineless fool. What is Cersei teaching her children?

Not to mention she’s let both Stark girls escape! First Arya in the chaos after Eddard Stark’s arrest, then Sansa from a barricaded room! Last Tywin heard, they were both back in their mother’s custody at Riverrun. And Robb Stark is proving himself to be a wolf on the battlefield—he’ll have to deal with the boy himself. If he can stop him from overtaking the Riverlands and spilling into the Westerlands! Tywin could gouge his daughter’s eyes out for her folly. They will never get Jaime back, now that they’ve lost their bargaining chips!

Tywin hears footsteps lead up to his door and barks, “I am to be undisturbed!” He doesn’t hear them head back down the stairwell, and he growls to himself. Idiots, he is surrounded by idiots! He stalks to the door and swings open the door.

There is no one there. He blinks, then closes it. He turns back towards his chair, and the window is open. Cold sweat beads at his brow. He never opened that window, and yet the curtains blow in the wind.

A princess and two knights go missing in broad daylight without a trace. This must be the work of faceless Men from Braavos, paid to…to what? Myrcella is an obvious target, if less obvious than Joffrey or Tommen. But why Clegane and Lorch? Perhaps this is a Dornish ploy, as revenge for Princess Elia and her children—

Something falls over in his adjoined privy and Tywin swears he hears footsteps come up the stairwell once more. He steals into his bedroom without so much as a whisper, as one breath. He must hide. The wardrobe’s doors are swinging in the breeze. The Faceless Man will hear him close them, surely. But where else? His heart pounds in his temples and his vision swims. By the gods, are they already inside the room?

He looks down. It is insulting, but his only choice. Tywin squeezes himself beneath his bed and pushes himself towards the wall. The walls themselves are hollow, to allow the servants to attend without disturbing his betters. If he can find the trapdoor without alerting the assassin, he can survive this.

He is Tywin Lannister, the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. He will not die here! He holds his breath, and wills his numb hands to stop shaking.

Like a frog inside a skillet, a lobster in a pan.

You don’t understand that I am going to find you!

Be still as a mountain and quiet as a mouse, ‘cause any little sound,

And I will surely find you!

Joffrey is dead. Joffrey is dead! And the castle isn’t safe! Tommen scurries into an abandoned room deep in Maegor’s Holdfast. There’s just a trundle bed in the corner, boxes piled on top of each other in the center, and dust coating everything. Once, Myrcella showed him this room while playing hide and seek—but that was when she was still here. Even years later, no one understands what happened to her, or to Gregor Clegane, or Amory Lorch, or to Grandfather. Mother blames the wicked Dornish. Joffrey blames evil Northmen magic. But Tommen knows, he knows that it’s the monsters. He has seen them in the night! They are in the walls! They are beneath the beds!

Tommen told Margaery to run before he fled the wedding feast. He hopes she survives. But he can’t think of more than finding his hiding place. He’ll never make it out of the castle, not with the smallfolk starving and so angry at them. He’ll sneak out at night, before the monster goes feeding. And then he’ll head…somewhere. Anywhere but here!

Try as he might, Joffrey haunts his steps. His bloated purple face, the bile and blood spilling down his chin to pool in Mother’s lap. Mother screamed and screamed when he died, like the day when they couldn’t find Myrcella or Father. The monsters must have killed him too, like everything else in this castle. And now he is alone!

Tommen shrieks, and claws at his hair. He can’t breathe! They can hear him! They can smell him! He is next!

He crouches down on the bed in the corner. He wills himself to breathe but he’s too afraid. Joffrey is dead! Myrcella is dead! Grandfather is dead! Will they ever find his body?! Tommen chokes on his sobs and his entire chest aches. He hurts. It hurts. The fear, it hurts, make it stop—

He collapses to the ground. He writhes, and scoots beneath the bed, and muffles his screams into the dust and the dark.

Tick—tick—tock, are you ready or not?

Tick—tick—tock, listen to the clock!

Hasten off into the black, don’t waste another heartbeat,

Don’t you peek! Hide and seek!

Dragons roar from over Kings Landing, and Cersei sobs into her hands. She should be on the Iron Throne to meet the usurpers, but then they burned her Kingsguard at the gates and—and she panicked. She ran, and hid beneath a servant’s bed.

King Aegon Targaryen the Sixth, come back from the dead! With silver-gold hair and bronze skin and indigo eyes, thirty thousand Dornish spears at his back and that miserable little chit Shireen Baratheon as a bride with the Stormlands as her dowry! And Daenerys Stormborn, Queen Beyond the Sea, come to help her nephew claim his throne with their shared dragons! They each ride one, with one reserved for the sister that Lannister men murdered along with godsdamned Elia Martell! Cersei could scream, but then they’d find her.

She must escape.

If she makes her way back to Casterly Rock, then she shall be saved. No dragon can defeat the heart of the Westerlands! Cersei can still salvage this, even with all her family dead and her dreams scattered to ashes in her throat—

At least there is no valonqar. The prophecy took her children from her, but her neck is still her own.

At least she got to hold Joffrey as he died. Myrcella and Tommen had no bodies to bury. He was her first, and her last, and she prays that he found his siblings from wherever those wretched monsters stole them away.

Muffled footsteps creep from beyond the corridor and Cersei can’t breathe. A servant? A Dornish spear? A Dothraki? Daenerys? Aegon? A monster?

Bare feet enter the room, splattered with dirt and blood. One of Varys’s little birds? They skip to the edge of the bed, and a sweet voice rings out, “Found you!”

Swift as night and brutal as the Blackwater, a hand reaches under and grips Cersei by the hair. She screams as she is dragged out, and then she can’t scream because hands are at her throat and twisting—

Let the countdown begin!

10! 9! 8! 7! 6! 5! 4! 3! 2! 1!

Rhaenys peeks out from behind the door. All is still and silent. Not even the flies are buzzing. She stifles a giggle into her hands. Aegon raises an eyebrow, and she explains, “Everyone always hides under the bed. A child’s mistake, it can be forgiven with time and wisdom.”

He shakes his head, before resting his chin on her head. “You’ll never need to hide beneath the bed again, I swear it.”

“I know.” She trusts her brother. She loved him before he could even remember her face, of course she trusts him. Him, and their aunt Daenerys, and their family in Dorne, and all her friends hiding in the walls—Rhaenys shall never be alone again.

Her family are in the throne room, and she shouldn’t keep them waiting. How happy they will be to see her! How happy she will be to see them! The weight of years of hiding bows her shoulders. It is time for her to stop hiding, stop seeking, stop this game and take her place in Aegon’s circle. He will be so proud to see how she’s survived. Mama would be proud. But Rhaenys…well, old habits die hard.

She shimmies beneath the bed and pulls Aegon down with her. He laughs and she lets the shadows become her. Just once more. Once more, the darkness becomes her. Rhaenys bares her teeth in a grin. What better tool for a new king than a monster who knows where everyone hides? Aegon survived the last game between them, and she’ll keep it that way.

She tells Aegon to count to ten, and he holds his breath.

A clock ticks somewhere.

There are many who covet the throne. And the countdown begins anew.

Ready or not, here I come!

#becky blue eyes #asoiaf fanfiction #horror fanfiction #rhaenys targaryen

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dany-is-my-queen · 4 years

Text

Born To Be Yours | Part IX

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 2,883

Note: Sorry for the delay :(

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8

“I’m glad nothing serious happened to you or your friend.” Tyrion poured himself some wine and you accepted to drink with him.

“Me too.”

“I know you are a hero but I sense something else here... why you keep taking those risks for her?” He curiously asked.

“She has no one...” That was true, still, you were trying to keep your feelings buried.

“You love her.” You hid your blush behind the silver cup. He chuckled. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. She seems to be a good Lady. With all that your brother has done to her having you is a blessing.”

“You... you’re okay with it?” Loving her in secret was one thing but saying it out loud to someone was a different one.

“Of course! I could never judge you. You don’t dictate your heart, you have all my support, Y/N.” He warmly smiled, you bent down to hug him. This is one of the many reasons you love your uncle so much.

“Thank you, uncle.”

“Now I fully understand why you did that yesterday. Does she know?” He walked to the balcony gesturing you to follow him.

“No. And maybe it’s all in my head.” You brushed it off. “She sees me as her very good chum who saves her from my horrendous family.”

“Or perhaps she’s just afraid to admit it. After all, you are the princess. It’s not that easy. You’ll figure it out.” He tapped your shoulder. Could Sansa really feel the same? Nothing’s impossible, you just have to give it time and be patient. But with the way she looks at you... how you find comfort in her embraces... how she gently touches your hand...

You made your way to the Stark girl’s room to check on her just to find the door wide open and a scared Sansa with the bed stained of blood, her nightgown had red stains too.

The Hound was there, you scowled. You knew he was going to tell Cersei, and that was the last thing the redhead wanted. Shae arrived shortly.

“Good morning.” You said.

“Princess.” Sandor and Shae greeted. Your gaze landed on Sansa, the tears were threatening to come out. She didn’t say anything.

“I will inform the Queen.” He stated and left. Sansa threw herself into your arms. You could feel her tensing and quivering.

“Hey hey, it’s gonna be fine. He’s not gonna touch you.” You promise her, you would do anything to keep him away from her, even if that meant being punished.

“You should take a bath before you meet her grace.” The young handmaid said.

“I’m going to wait outside until you are finished, then I’ll escort you to my mother’s chambers. Don’t worry, my lady. I got you.” You assured. Her features relaxed and you gave her a small nod.

You tried to come with excuses for your mother to not force her to carry Joffrey’s babies immediately but nothing with a valid point seemed to be compelling enough.

After she was done you headed to her big room. “How is your wound?” You added to soothe the hike.

“Better. You are a very good healer.” She shyly answered.

“One of my many gifts.” You winked to ease her nerves. The Queen Regent was already expecting her, yet she was not very surprised when you showed up behind Sansa, you let her entered first.

“My love, what are you doing here?” Cersei asked you, raising her eyebrow.

“I... thought I’d give Lady Sansa some advice, I flowered almost two years ago. I know it is grubby at first.”

“It certainly is. But her mother prepared her, didn’t she?”

“She told me. I thought... it would be different.” Sansa confessed.

“In what way?” You both took a seat.

“I thought it would be less... less messy.”

“Wait until you birth a child. You’re a woman now, do you know what that means?”

“I’m fit to bear children for the King.” Yes, your heart was breaking again.

“Is there any rush?” You intervened and Cersei faked a sympathetic smile.

“The sooner the better.” She made a flick for you to keep your mouth shut. Your jaw tensed. “A prospect that once delighted you. The greatest honor for a queen. Joffrey has always been difficult. Even his birth, I labored one day and a half to bring him into this world. You cannon imagine the pain. I screamed so loud I was sure Robert would hear me in the Kingswood.”

“His grace was not with you?”

“Robert was hunting. Whenever my time was near, he would flee to the trees with his huntsmen and his hounds. The only time he was with me was when Y/N was born. I’ll always remember how she wrapped her little hand around his finger, she smiled at him and that was the only time in my life I saw a tear fell from his cheek. It was too emotional.”

You missed him so badly, the stories he used to tell you about Westeros, the adventures he had when he was a young Lord, the thrill in his eyes when he saw you swing the sword for the first time, he taught you all about archery, about bravery. When you were feeling low because of Joffrey and your mother he would carry you in his arms and then ride far from the city in your horses. You missed those days cause in the dark moments he was your hero.

“You never told me that before.”

“You were your father’s favorite.” Then she referred to Sansa. “Joffrey will show you no such devotion. You may never love the King but you will love his children.” She told her calmly.

“I love his grace with all my heart.” Sansa lied in her usual innocent voice.

“That’s very touching to hear. Permit me to share some womanly wisdom with you on this special day. The more people you love, the weaker you are. You’ll do things for them that you know you shouldn’t do. You’ll act the fool to make them happy, to keep them safe. Love no one but your children. On that front, a mother has no choice.” Was it so hard for Cersei to love you as much as she loved your siblings? To support you and be there for you?

“But shouldn’t I love Joffrey, your grace?”

“You can try, little dove. My sweet daughter here, she will be marrying some Lord very soon. I think it’s time for you to start your own family.” The blonde abruptly added. Sansa felt her stomach twist itself into an uncomfortable knot.

“That means I will have to leave you, mother.” You complained. Cersei doesn’t want to end up alone, Jaime is a prisoner, you don’t know if you’re going to see him again. But she doesn’t want you to abandon her, deep down does she care? A question you often ask yourself.

“You grew too fast. You are my oldest daughter, any man who has your heart will be very lucky. Many of them are interested in you.” Your eyes were set only on Sansa Stark, even if you couldn’t be together.

“But I’m not interested in them.” You pointed out. Was she trying to send you away just because you were willing to keep protecting Sansa at all costs, or did she really wanted to get rid of you?

You and the northerner walked out. You let go of those thoughts. Focusing on her again you broke the silence. “There’ll be a battle soon. My uncle’s army will arrive anytime. Joffrey is going to be busy. I’m always here for you, Sansa.” You reassured once more, for her to know she’s not alone.

“I feel trapped. But when you’re around... you make everything better.” Hearing that made you feel a wave of joy. She blushed and gods, your face was the color of her hair too.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” You said smiling sincerely at her. She smiled back at you.

The following days passed so very fast, now you were helping uncle Tyrion do some researching on books to find information to use for the incoming battle. The King himself apparently is occupied torturing people and animals to care for his Kingdoms. Bronn was there too, your uncle thought he’d come with some ideas for the defense of the city.

You were distracted, to say the least, your mind wandering in the redhead beauty, in how she seemed to be troubled almost all the time.

“Dear niece, I need your cleverness.” You came out of your trance.

“We are very lucky to have you as Hand of the King, uncle, otherwise we’d be doomed. And I mean it, no sarcasm. I want to join you in the field.” Tyrion wasn’t expecting to hear that statement. You knew you could be effective.

“What? Absolutely not. The last time in the riot the gods were good and you were unharmed. This is way different. I know you are brave, just like Robert was, but I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. Let alone the fact your mother won’t allow it.”

“I can take care of myself. Joffrey won’t last a moment there. Maybe I can coax him to fight along his men.”

“I wish you could. He won’t listen.”

“I’ll do it anyway.”

“So stubborn. My brain might explode before I find something helpful. ‘A History of the Great Sieges of Westeros.’ By Archmaester Shevelathin. Shevelatesh.”

“Ch’Vyalythan.” You corrected him.

“Are you sure?” You shrugged.

“My Princess. Lord Hand. Commander. I must compliment you on the Gold Cloak’s performance last few weeks. Did you know there has been a marked drop in thievery?” Lord Varys said entering the room.

“How did you accomplish this?”

“Me and the lads rounded up all the known thieves.” Bronn nonchalant replied.

“For questioning?”

“No. It’s just the unknown thieves we need to worry about now.”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“Have you ever been on a city under siege? Maybe this part is not in your books. See, it’s not the fighting that kills most people. It’s the starving. Food’s worth more than gold. The thieves love a siege. Soon as the gates are sealed they steal all of it. By the time it’s all over, they’re the richest men in town.”

“Yes, I believe extreme measures are warranted. Ah ‘The Great Sieges of Westeros.’ Thrilling subject, shame archmaester Ch’Vyalthan wasn’t a better writer.” Varys referred to the big book on the table.

“Uncle Stannis knows King’s Landing, he knows where we are the strongest and where we are the weakest. We need to be cautious. Take him down before he arrives at the gates.” Now you were focusing, strategy was essential.

“That’s it! The Mud Gate. A good ram will batter it down in minutes, and it’s only fifty yards from the water. That’s where he’ll land.” Tyrion affirmed certainly.

“If he does attack at the Mud Gate, what is our plan?” Varys curiously inquired. Tyrion looked at you, and then back at him.

“Wildfire.” He said.

After discussing the tactics you went to share some time with Sansa, she is one of the few people who gives you peace. Little Tommen was on his reading lessons. She was embroidering a red scarf with two lions on the top. Your heart warmed at the sight of it.

“Shae is not here?”

“I dismissed her an hour ago.” Then she stood up. “A present for you.”

“Why do I owe the pleasure?” You admired her flawless needlework.

“Because you always save me. You are always there for me. I don’t know how can I ever repay you.”

“You don’t have to, you know I do it cause I love you I’m your friend. But I appreciate the gift though. It is a very fine design.” She flushed, seeing her like this is very cute.

“You think... your brother is going to defeat Lord Stannis?”

“Brave men will fight. I have faith in them and in my uncle’s plan. I-I might... get involved.”

“Is this a bad joke?” She looked at you perplexed.

“I’m afraid is not.”

“Y/N, you could die! You are strong but still too young to go to war. And you are a princess.” Sansa winced. You squeezed gently her arm.

“I won’t die. I heard uncle Renly had in his Kingsguard a female warrior. And what about Visenya Targaryen? She was a fantastic skilled warrior as well. She fought alongside Aegon in his conquest, and in the First Dornish War. Also, she was a dragon rider, she bonded with the one called Vhagar. And had a Valyrian steel longsword named Dark Sister. I wish I had one.” You commented, utterly excited. Sansa didn’t really like the topic but her eyes lighted up every time you talked about something you were passionate about.

“You never cease to amaze me, you know so much about these things. I understand now why Arya and you got along so well.” And it’s true, you wished she was here, you missed the youngest Stark girl running around the castle. “But still, I don’t like the idea of you being out there. It’s too dangerous. You said you weren’t going anywhere.” She mumbled the last sentence.

“Trust me.” You held her hands on your own.

“Just be careful, please. Don’t leave me alone.”

“I will be. And I’ll never leave you.”

You were walking side by side with the King, Varys, and Tyrion on the eastern walls.

“If my uncle Stannis lands on the shores of King’s Landing, I’ll ride out to greet him.” Joffrey smugly spoke.

“A brave choice, your grace. I’m sure your men will line up behind you.” Tyrion subtly jeered.

“They say he never smiles. I’ll give him a red smile from ear to ear.” You rolled your eyes, knowing he wouldn’t stand a chance against him on his own. Lord Varys and your uncle began to converse with each other.

“Hey, Y/N. I heard you want to join us in the fight.” He said in a mocking way.

“You think I’m not capable?”

“Exactly. You are a woman. Not that I really care about what happens to you. You’ll die out there.”

“You have little faith in me, big brother. But still, I’m way better than you in almost everything.” You squinted your lips. “No! In absolutely everything. Don’t worry, I’ll pray for our victory.”

“I already know your whore friend has flowered. I’ll come to visit her right after I kill our uncle.” He hissed and you didn’t punch him right away right there cause you held back your fury. He was provoking you, you would get your knuckles bloody for Sansa if he goes too far.

“...They say he burns his enemies alive to honor the Lord of Light.” You joined the conversation between the two men.

“The Lord of Light wants his enemies burnt. The Drowned God wants them drowned. Why are all the gods such vicious cunts? Where is the god of tits and wine?” Tyrion wittily questioned.

“In the Summer Isles, they worship a fertility goddess with sixteen teats.” Varys responded.

“We should sail there immediately.” You smirked.

“Lord Varys, do you know anything new about the Targaryen girl?" Some nights you wonder, if your father hadn't won the Rebellion she would be here, this would be her home, she was exiled so she could survive, she was forced to marry a savage, her family is dead, the world is such a cruel place... and when you are a helpless girl it gets worse, what if things had turned out differently? And you were the one on the other side of the world, maybe that's one of the main reasons why you sympathized with her.

“This morning, I heard a song all the way from Qarth beyond the Red Waste. Daenerys Targaryen lives.”

“That’s a relief.” You said.

“A relief? She has three dragons. But even if what they say is true, it’ll be years before they are fully grown. And then there will be nowhere to hide.” Varys argued.

“She’s on the edge of the world, the least of our problems.” Uncle Tyrion tried to sound unconcerned.

“Three baby dragons? How is that possible?” They were extinct for almost three hundred years. How she managed to bring them back?

“Princess, do you consider it was wise to let her live? If you knew then what you do now... would you persuade his grace to give the order? She might be a threat soon enough, she will claim the throne-“

“Maybe she’s not interested in it. Not everyone is. Especially the rightful heirs. She did nothing wrong.”

“Yet.”

“I don’t regret my choice. I wouldn’t change it if I could.” You were confident, she’s innocent, one game at the time, you thought. Just because her ancestors were evil doesn’t mean she is evil too.

“You are so selfless, and good. Westeros might need a Queen like you.” Varys remarked.

“I’m no Queen, my Lord.” The throne belongs to you more than to Joffrey that was for sure, but how can you overthrow snakes that know your weaknesses and can use them to sting and hurt you the most?

#game of thrones fic #got #game of thrones imagine #sansa stark x reader #sansa x fem baratheon reader #baratheon reader #house baratheon

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agentrouka-blog · 4 years

Note

@ ygritte hate post. In broad strokes, we agree Jon and Sansa are on parallel journeys, there is also plenty of parallels between Hound's sexual assault night with Jon and Ygritte (steel kiss, hand on face, and so on). (1/3)

Then Jon gets into it at the water pool, that is his "unkiss", no doubt. Notice though, the details about him getting riled up by sex red hair, she saying she is half-fish, debating fucking your own sister. I'm forgetting stuff of course. I'm sure that chapter is rife with that. (2/3)

Jonsa fans have speculated over Unkiss being a cover for another kiss (always with the cousins, the blood and fire cloak, and so forth). It could be that cave means much the same for him. Like said they are on parallel journeys and there's all those throwbacks to each other. (3/3)

So like Sansa, Jon is repressing something there. Something that happened in the winterfell pools. Bran remembers bathing with his sisters, but unlike Bran (who did saw OSHA getting out of one in that segment), Jon saw something that was a revelation. Like Florian when he saw Jonquil bathing with her sisters. Something red and then wanted to kiss, not downstairs but upstairs. Maybe he did... and maybe Ned caught him at it, because he later dreams of being caught there being innapropriate. (4/3)

In the dream he screams he will never father a abstard, he hates being one for they are lustful creatures born of lust and lies. Like lusting after their sisters. Its not like he is a Targaryen! Distraught, Jon decides to prove his nature wrong. He is not a deviant because he is a bastard lusting after his sister! So he decides to go to the Nights Watch, where he'll be chaste ever. Maybe. Kind of creepy but funny. It all comes together too, all those tidbits that are otherwise scattered. (5/3)

PS: Six maidens in the pool... Six Stark children. Not seven for once either way. And so Jon says in the show "we should have never left Winterfell" because it echoes the We shouldn't have left the cave. And Jon says they'll go back and Yggrite yaps You Know Nothing, but he was right. Jon will go back with the real redhead Sansa, back to Winterfell real pools. (6/3)

Thank you!! This ask really sent my brain whirring.

I already like the idea of the Unkiss drawing from a repressed memory, but I hadn’t noticed how the Ygritte memory-edit might interlock with that.

We have this confirmation that they were fairly natural and relaxed about nudity among children:

"Might be there isn't." She grinned. "What are you staring at, boy? Never seen a woman before?"

"I have so." Bran had bathed with his sisters hundreds of times and he'd seen serving women in the hot pools too. Osha looked different, though, hard and sharp instead of soft and curvy. Her legs were all sinew, her breasts flat as two empty purses. "You've got a lot of scars." (ACOK, Bran II)

Hundreds of times. We know Sansa associated hot water in a bath with Winterfell.

The hot water made her think of Winterfell, and she took strength from that. She had not washed since the day her father died, and she was startled at how filthy the water became. (AGOT, Sansa VI)

So does Jon:

It was short walk to the bathhouse, where he took a cold plunge to wash the sweat off and soaked in a hot stone tub. The warmth took some of the ache from his muscles and made him think of Winterfell's muddy pools, steaming and bubbling in the godswood. Winterfell, he thought. (ASOS, Jon XII)

Then we have the image of the Water Gardens.

It was Daenerys who filled the gardens with laughing children. Her own children at the start, but later the sons and daughters of lords and landed knights were brought in to be companions to the boys and girls of princely blood. And one summer's day when it was scorching hot, she took pity on the children of her grooms and cooks and serving men and invited them to use the pools and fountains too, a tradition that has endured till this day." (…)

As the children splashed in the pools, Daenerys watched from amongst the orange trees, and a realization came to her. She could not tell the highborn from the low. Naked, they were only children. All innocent, all vulnerable, all deserving of long life, love, protection.

(ADWD, The Watcher)

And we know that the children of all ranks played together in the godswood, too.

He had watched wistfully while the Walders contested with Turnip the cook's boy and Joseth's girls Bandy and Shyra. The Walders had decreed that Bran should be the judge and decide whether or not people had said "Mayhaps," but as soon as they started playing they forgot all about him.

The shouts and splashes soon drew others: Palla the kennel girl, Cayn's boy Calon, TomToo whose father Fat Tom had died with Bran's father at King's Landing. Before very long, every one of them was soaked and muddy. Palla was brown from head to heel, with moss in her hair, breathless from laughter. Bran had not heard so much laughing since the night the bloody raven came. (ACOK, Bran I)

It’s fair to conclude that the Jon and the Starklings may indeed have not just played but also bathed together in the godswood.

There is an interesting association with Maidenpool, which is tied to the romance of Florian and Jonquil.

At Maidenpool, Lord Mooton's red salmon still flew above the castle on its hill, but the town walls were deserted, the gates smashed, half the homes and shops burned or plundered. They saw nothing living but a few feral dogs that went slinking away at the sound of their approach. The pool from which the town took its name, where legend said that Florian the Fool had first glimpsed Jonquil bathing with her sisters, was so choked with rotting corpses that the water had turned into a murky grey-green soup.

Jaime took one look and burst into song. "Six maids there were in a spring-fed pool . . ."

"What are you doing?" Brienne demanded.

"Singing. 'Six Maids in a Pool,' I'm sure you've heard it. And shy little maids they were, too. Rather like you. Though somewhat prettier, I'll warrant."

(ASOS, Jaime III)

Jonquil bathed with ther sisters, when Florian first glimpsed her.

The pool becomes filthy and spoiled. Like Sansa’s bathwater, but also like the muddy Winterfell pools. Choked with corpses?

When the dreams took him, he found himself back home once more, splashing in the hot pools beneath a huge white weirwood that had his father's face. Ygritte was with him, laughing at him, shedding her skins till she was naked as her name day, trying to kiss him, but he couldn't, not with his father watching. He was the blood of Winterfell, a man of the Night's Watch. I will not father a bastard, he told her. I will not. I will not. "You know nothing, Jon Snow," she whispered, her skin dissolving in the hot water, the flesh beneath sloughing off her bones until only skull and skeleton remained, and the pool bubbled thick and red. (ASOS, Jon VI)

The memory edit and the switch toward “love” in the cave is mirrored in this rather defiant dream, that recalls the pools at home, his father’s watching face, but also the laughter at home in the godswood. A pool in a sacred place spoiled with death.

A memory spoiled by trauma.

Dany, who I would argue is a character strongly foreshadowed in Ygritte, has her own association with sacred pools.

They rode to the lake the Dothraki called the Womb of the World, surrounded by a fringe of reeds, its water still and calm. A thousand thousand years ago, Jhiqui told her, the first man had emerged from its depths, riding upon the back of the first horse.

The procession waited on the grassy shore as Dany stripped and let her soiled clothing fall to the ground. Naked, she stepped gingerly into the water. Irri said the lake had no bottom, but Dany felt soft mud squishing between her toes as she pushed through the tall reeds. The moon floated on the still black waters, shattering and re-forming as her ripples washed over it. Goose pimples rose on her pale skin as the coldness crept up her thighs and kissed her lower lips. The stallion's blood had dried on her hands and around her mouth. Dany cupped her fingers and lifted the sacred waters over her head, cleansing herself and the child inside her while the khal and the others looked on. (AGOT, Daenerys V)

This recalls Ygritte in the pools and Sansa in her filthy bath. But the presence of the blood of a horse slaughtered for her to eat its heart, the presence of the Stallion that Mounts the World, the prophecy and the things we know comes after... all that is ominous and the kiss of the cold is unlikely to be tender.

"When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it," he declared. "Waiting won't make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it."

"Kiss her?" Ser Barristan repeated, aghast.

"A steel kiss," said Littlefinger. (AGOT, Eddard VIII)

or..

But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,

and a bite sharp and cold as a leech. (ASOS, Jon I)

or...

Then the steel was at her throat, and its bite was red and cold. (ASOS, Catelyn VII)

The layers in this…

Anyway, there’s foreshadowing to Dany in the Ygritte mess, but it’s not exactly happy, while the Sansa connections in there tend to be positive. Sweet and foul all mixed up.

Sansa “remembering” the Unkiss in relation to kissing children (Margaery’s Girls, Sweetrobin) and with “awful” memories (Myranda’s wedding night) has that same air of mixing something rotten with something that had been perhaps sweet but confusing. I.e. covering a traumatic event with something else.

Then there’s another interesting association with the incest peach.

As she sat in the common room in her stupid girl clothes, Arya remembered what Syrio Forel had told her, the trick of looking and seeing what was there. When she looked, she saw more serving wenches than any inn could want, and most of them young and comely. And come evenfall, lots of men started coming and going at the Peach. They did not linger long in the common room, not even when Tom took out his woodharp and began to sing "Six Maids in a Pool." The wooden steps were old and steep, and creaked something fierce whenever one of the men took a girl upstairs. "I bet this is a brothel," she whispered to Gendry.

(ASOS, Arya V)

Right after this they meet Gendry’s half-sister Bella, a “peach” at the Peach.

“I’m named Bella,” the girl told Gendry. “For the battle. I bet I could ring your bell, too. You want to?”

“No,” he said gruffly.

“I bet you do.” She ran a hand along his arm. “I don’t cost nothing to friends of Thoros and the lightning lord.”

“No, I said.” Gendry rose abruptly and stalked away from the table out into the night.

Bella turned to Arya. “Don’t he like girls?”

While the bell recalls Dany, we should remember that

Sansa plays “the high harp and the bells” (AGOT, Arya I)

“Bella” translates to Beauty

this scene is an unsubtle shout-out to Jon stalking out of the welcoming feast after Benjen teased him about fathering bastards and knowing a woman. After calling Sansa radiant. (AGOT, Jon I)

So the Dany hints are joined by the Sansa hints. The Dany hints are negative (bells = battle), the Sansa ones positive (bells = music). Why are the Sansa hints there at all?

Before anyone goes “Jonrya!”, remember:

For half a heartbeat she forgot who she was supposed to be. She wasn't any peach, but she couldn't be Arya Stark either, not here with some smelly drunk she did not know. "I'm . . ."

"She's my sister." Gendry put a heavy hand on the old man's shoulder, and squeezed. "Leave her be." (ASOS, Arya V)

Arya is not a peach, she is a sister. Little sister.

And there’s this:

He liked the deep, sweet ache it left in the muscles afterward. He liked the way the air tasted way up high, sweet and cold as a winter peach. He liked the birds: the crows in the broken tower, the tiny little sparrows that nested in cracks between the stones, the ancient owl that slept in the dusty loft above the old armory. Bran knew them all. (AGOT, Bran II)

Jon only tastes the cold when silver-haired Val tastes sweetness in the air, but way up high the winter peach makes the air taste sweet, too.

"Sweet smells are sometimes used to cover foul ones." (ACOK, Daenerys II)

But foul smells might cover sweet ones, too. The Unkiss covers a bitter trauma, but perhaps it was drawn from a more innocent kiss in the past.

The naked red-haired girl by the water might trigger a rewrite of Jon’s perception of Ygritte, but it might draw that from a different kind of confusion, surrounding the same memories that feed Sansa’s editing.

The godswood is certainly a stage for kissing:

As she stood there, all the memories came flooding back to her. Her father had taught her to ride amongst these trees, and that was the elm that Edmure had fallen from when he broke his arm, and over there, beneath that bower, she and Lysa had played at kissing with Petyr.

She had not thought of that in years. How young they all had been — she no older than Sansa, Lysa younger than Arya, and Petyr younger still, yet eager. The girls had traded him between them, serious and giggling by turns. (…)

Robb got to his feet slowly and sheathed his sword, and Catelyn found herself wondering whether her son had ever kissed a girl in the godswood. Surely he must have. (AGOT, Catelyn XI)

Memories that flood back, young children, innocent games that have consequences much later on, a specific Connection drawn to the Starklings and the Winterfell godswood.

More kissing:

"I won't! I saw you kissing in the snow. She's just like her mother. Catelyn kissed you in the godswood, but she never meant it, she never wanted you. (ASOS, Sansa VII)

and yet more...

Theon Greyjoy was no stranger to this godswood. He had played here as a boy, skipping stones across the cold black pool beneath the weirwood, hiding his treasures in the bole of an ancient oak, stalking squirrels with a bow he made himself. Later, older, he had soaked his bruises in the hot springs after many a session in the yard with Robb and Jory and Jon Snow. In amongst these chestnuts and elms and soldier pines he had found secret places where he could hide when he wanted to be alone. The first time he had ever kissed a girl had been here. Later, a different girl had made a man of him upon a ragged quilt in the shade of that tall grey-green sentinel. (ADWD, The Prince of Winterfell)

Starklings, kissing and the hot springs all in a paragraph.

I would say there is material here. If GRRM wants to write about Sansa and Jon sharing a memory that involves the hot springs, kissing and references to Florian and Jonquil, he will have planted the hints. It would certainly be a bit poetic if both of them used the same memory soup to create their trauma responses.

Before anyone tries to accuse me of hypocrisy when it comes to age gaps, abuse etc. I do not think this was a case of Jon perving on his young sister. Cat was 12 when she played kissing games with a much younger Petyr and Lysa, and I don’t think we are supposed to consider this a threesome. It’s child’s play. That’s my angle here.

#jon snow #sansa stark #unkiss #anti-ygritte #kissing games #hot springs #pre-canon jonsa #mismemory #jonsa #asoiaf

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

Text

Footprints in the Sand

Part 6: Conquest

Summary/Author's Note: This...this was a hard one to write. That's probably why it is about 1k words shorter than what I normally like. A lot of internal despair and heartache. this👏 chapter👏 is👏 painful 👏I'm👏 not 👏fucking👏 around.👏 I will fix it I promise. Rest assured, Oberyn gets to speak with Jaime in part 7...

Pairing: Oberyn x Ellaria x Reader Word Count: 2.6k Rating/Warnings: (R/18+) Mentions of: rape, murder, physical/mental abuse, children abuse/murder. Jaime Lannister is a bastard man.

(Parts) (1)(2)(3)(4)(5)

The ride back to the castle was just as awful as you knew it would be. You didn't have to be facing him to feel the arrogant smirk that Jaime wore as the two of you rode back to the red keep. Your humiliation was his joy, your suffering was his job well done. He may have acted upon the orders of Tywin Lannister but he did so with a joyful willingness that fueled his sadistic nature.

He reached up and took your hand as he helped you off of the horse. With shaking fingers, you haphazardly laced your bodice to try and look less disheveled as the two of you walked into the castle side by side.

"Is my Uncle really worried?" You asked, your voice sounding echoed in the stone hallways filled only by the heavy footfalls of the King's guard.

"He's worried because my father tells him to be." Jaime said flatly, his hand balanced on the pommel of his sword.

"So, Oberyn was right," you glanced at him, your mouth set into a hard frown. "This is Tywin's doing. Why does he care?"

Jaime grinned and looked at you. A small amount of surprise filled his soft blue eyes and it made your stomach queasy. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

Jaime shook his head, letting his long blonde hair move side to side as he chuckled deep within his chest. "Oh, (y/n). You are still very much the ignorant child that I knew on the rock."

You glared at him and his words caused a wave of anger to rise up in your chest. It made you feel braver, more solid, and you held on to it tightly because it was better than the heartache you carried thinking about Oberyn and Ellaria.

"As fun as it is to stand here and be insulted," you gathered your skirts in your hands and met his gaze. "I'll retire to my room. Tell my Uncle I'm safe, just like he wanted."

You started to turn towards the stairs but Jaime reached out and grabbed your upper bicep, stopping you from leaving. He seemed to consider his next words carefully before looking to the guard at each of his sides and nodding them away. They bowed their heads slightly before taking their leave and walking in unison down the hall. Being alone with Jaime Lannister was not something you particularly wanted but you forced the rational side of your brain to take over. It wasn't like he could hurt you in a castle full of people. Was it? There was nothing he would stand to gain from that--and a Lannister rarely did anything if they didn't get something out of it.

"I want to show you something," he said, careful to keep his tone even and his smile pleasant.

"Jaime, I'm tired--"

"Oh, I bet you are."

You fought to keep the disgust out of your tone and failed miserably as you jerked your arm from his grasp. "You're disgusting."

"You can walk with me," he nodded down the hallway towards the throne room. "Or I can drag you." He looked back at you and shrugged under his armor. "The choice is yours but rest assured," he leaned in and lowered his voice with a smirk. "I'm happy either way."

You glared at him and knew out of the two options he would prefer the latter and you had already had your fill of being paraded around this morning. With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and walked towards the archway that lead into the main hall of the red keep. His eyes lingered on your ass but you didn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that it gave you a chill down your spine.

The red keep was every bit as menacing and dark as its name suggested. The stone was dark, cold, unfeeling, softened only by the large, red banners that hung down from the rafters displaying the Lannister signet. A large stained glass window let in the overcast sunlight about every ten feet on the Eastern wall of the keep. Each window held a large lion in the middle, made of iron, standing up in its hind legs and roaring to the heavens. The Lannister's champion, a fierce, proud predator--a fearless leader. On the other side of the keep the pattern was repeated with a rearing stag, the symbol of Robert Baratheon, the current king of the seven kingdoms. The stag shared the keep with the lion because although he was king, it was no secret that Robert sat on the throne because of the Lannister's. They had given him everything--a wife in the form of Jaime's sister Cersei, an army, a kings guard, and in the end...a crown.

The room was empty and as Jaime shut the doors behind the two of you, the vast echo it created was unnerving.

"What is it you wanted to show me?" You asked, hugging yourself and rubbing your arms. It was freezing and, without your cloak or shawl, goosebumps covered your skin quickly.

"Forgive me, for this morning." Jaime started and the uneasy feeling in your gut started to grow. Jaime Lannister was not known for his willingness to apologize. "I only wish to protect you. Protect our family."

"I didn't need protection," you said bitterly.

"But you did," he said, looking at you with concern that you knew was fake. "You just didn't know it."

"What are you talking about?"

Jaime walked up the steps to the dais that held the iron throne. It was a menacing looking seat, covered in hundreds of swords and steel. Men had died for it, bled for it but Jaime touched it fondly like it was an old friend. "Do you know who sat on the iron throne before Robert?" Jaime asked without pretense and you looked at him skeptically.

"What does that have to do with an--"

"Do you know?" He pressed the question and you decided you would play his insufferable game.

"Aerys Targaryen. Why?"

"He had two sons. The oldest being Rhaegar Targaryen." Jamie said, turning around to you slowly as he continued to lean on the throne.

"Is there a point to this history lesson?" You asked bitterly but he ignored you for a question of his own.

"Do you know who he was married to?" Jaime asked.

"Lyanna Stark," you said flatly. "That's what started this war--."

"Wrong," Jaime shook his head and you looked at him perplexed.

"What?"

"Before Lyanna, who was he married to?"

"I don't know." You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. "I don't understand--"

"Elia Martell."

You felt your heart drop down through your rib cage like an iron weight. That couldn't have been right. If it was then surely you would have known, made some kind of connection, or Oberyn would have told you. Wouldn't he?

"What?" You whispered as a grin nearly split Jaime's face in two.

"So, you didn't know." He brushed his hair away from his face and looked at the iron throne. He nodded before continuing his lecture. "Elia Martell. Princess of Dorne and middle child between her two brothers, Prince Doran and," he paused to look at you making sure he didn't miss your reaction. "Prince Oberyn."

He walked back down the few steps and across the hall to stand close to you again. The smugness radiating off of him was suffocating. You tried to focus on breathing, collecting even amounts of air and not allowing your thoughts to run away from you. That's what he wanted. You kept your tone even and leveled your gaze with his.

"What does it matter?" You asked.

"It matters a great deal actually," Jaime chuckled. "She was next in line to be queen. She had two children, a boy and a girl."

"Why are you telling me this--"

"Silence." Jaime warned, putting his face right next to yours and grit his teeth. "When the fool Robert stormed King's Landing, my father's men took the castle. And do you want to know what they did to Elia and her children?"

You didn't. You didn't want to know but you couldn't pull yourself away. The intensity of his eyes told you he wouldn't let you leave until he was finished with you. Your stomach turned and you felt like you were going to be sick. Jaime grabbed you by the arms and started to walk you backwards.

"Knight Captain Amory Lorch found the little princess hiding under the bed. He dragged her out by her hair as she screamed for her mother and he stabbed her over fifty times."

You put your hands on his arms trying to push him away from you but he was so much stronger. You closed your eyes and shook your head. "Don't--"

"Ser Gregor Clegane found the young prince trying to protect his precious mother and the Mountain smashed his skull against the wall of this very room right in front of her eyes." He shoved you back against the stone wall and leaned in close to whisper in your ear. "Perhaps against these very stones."

"Stop!" You shoved him away from you and tried to run passed him but he was too fast. He grabbed you by the wrist and slammed you back against the wall. The action knocked the air from your lungs and caused you to gasp.

"Oh, but you haven't heard the best part!" He said with an excited lit to his voice that made you want to vomit. He laughed and it sent a chill through your gut as he reached up and grabbed you by the hair and started marching you back to the middle of the room. "Clegane took Elia Martell into this room." He tightened his fingers as you thrashed against him and whimpered as his grip on your hair became too much. "He tore off her clothes and he pinned her down and he raped her again, and again--"

"Jaime!" You yelled at him and kicked him in the shin, causing him to release his grip abruptly. You fell to the floor of the keep on your hands and knees with a grunt and he dropped to his knees to grip your upper arms. You fought him tooth and nail and he growled before giving in to his frustrations and slapping you hard across the face with the back of his hand.

You fell flat on the stone floor, your curls falling over your face as flashes of black filled your vision and pain blossomed on your cheekbone. You coughed quietly and curled up on your side, bringing a hand to your face and trying to wrap your mind around the fact that Jaime had just struck you. You knew he was angry at being sent to find you. You knew he was vile and full of himself and had a temper. But never in your life had someone hit you like he did now and the disbelief briefly held the pain at bay--but you knew it was waiting.

"Shh, Shh, come here," Jaime cooed and you felt terrified of him as he pulled you back into a sitting position and pushed your hair back from your face. You wanted to push him away, but you didn't want to risk more of his wrath.

"P-please, stop," you managed to whisper and he gripped the back of your neck, making you look at the patterned stone below.

"Elia Martell was murdered in this exact spot, (y/n). Clegane bashed her skull against these bricks once he had used up her body and he laughed as he did it." He whispered against your hair. "I should know, I was there. It took days to get her blood off of these stones."

He looked at you in a way that made you want to cover yourself with your own arms. Against your better judgement, you looked into his face and he grinned in response.

"Why do you think Oberyn didn't tell you?"

"I don't know," you tried but he wasn't having it.

"Don't be coy. The Lannisters are the reason his sister is in the ground. His niece and nephew died on the word of my father--your family. Our family did his a great injustice."

"He doesn't blame me--"

"Perhaps not. But I must hand it to him--what a slight to Tywin to fuck his niece in a whore house--"

You tried to push out of Jaime's grasp. He didn't know anything about what had happened between you and Oberyn in the last few days. How dare he try and taint what the three of you had had. Despite whatever happened in the coming days, they had been kind to you, they had opened their world to you--the thought alone caused tears to burn behind your eyes and Jaime saw it.

"Did you think he cared about you?" He asked with an open mouth smile. "Oh, dear cousin. You were nothing more than a conquest. A trophy for Oberyn Martell to put on his shelf until he can get the revenge against our house that he so desperately wants."

"You're wrong," you spat at him and he shook his head.

"You know that I'm not."

You wanted to stay on the floor of that keep forever. You wanted to be left alone to soothe the ache that had settled between your breasts and the throbbing of your cheek. A conquest. A trophy. A prize to be hung on a wall and left to collect dust. It wasn't necessarily something to be cherished--but forgotten about until something better came along. Is that what you were to Oberyn? To Ellaria? The thought made you want to sob because just this morning you had believed otherwise. You had let yourself believe their words, that they wanted your company, your thoughts, your presence. You let yourself believe that they had wanted you.

"Can I go?" You hated the way your voice sounded--so broken and small.

"Yes," he said simply, not bothering to help you as you got to your feet.

You finally allowed yourself to hug your own arms, to fold in on your own body for whatever little protection the action would offer. The only sound in the keep was your shoes clicking against the stone as you hurried for the door. You didn't even stop when you heard Jaime's voice call out to you.

"The feast tonight is the last of the week. You're expected to be there." He stood slowly and balanced his hand on his sword as he watched your retreating form. "Don't make me have to come and find you."

The door slammed behind you as you climbed the stairs to your bedchambers. Hot tears burned down their cheeks and once you were alone you let them fall freely. You wished you had never experienced the gentle kiss of Ellaria Sand. You wished you had never known the idea of going to Dorne, of a way out of this conventional life. You wished you had never met Oberyn Martell.

------

[Next Chapter]

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