Summary: Before Sansa leaves for King’s Landing, Jon unexpectedly gives her comfort, and something more, in a time of trouble. Ned Stark puts a stop to it.

For @jonxsansafanfiction Day 7: Flowers (Jon x Sansa: 15 Days of Valentines). Multiple POV.

Shoutout to @janebrkin for the lovely idea of Jon comforting Sansa during thunderstorms when she was little - I was inspired by your story and people should go read it! :)


Jon knew it was wrong, truly wrong, because his father was angry. Lady Catelyn had been known to come down hard on him for some perceived slight, but his father was fair, and rarely raised his voice. Lord Stark’s face was stormy now, his grey eyes like chipped flint.

“Never again, Jon, do you understand? You cannot–” Jon had seen his father at a loss for words before, but never with his mouth working quite this way. “Sansa is meant for–”

“A prince, I know, father.” Joffrey had pranced into Winterfell like the spoiled brat he was, and something about the way Sansa looked at him made Jon’s blood boil.

His father swallowed, then nodded. “Yes. A prince.”

Jon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His father had ordered him into the Lord’s Chambers and pointed for him to sit, after bellowing at Jon and Sansa in the godswood. Sansa had fled. “Why were you cruel to her, father? I gave her the crown. It was my fault. Sansa didn’t do anything wrong.” Jon wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong either, but he knew Sansa was blameless.

His father ran a hand over his face. “I’ll talk to her, Jon. It’s not your fault, either, you just – you must promise me, now, never to be alone with Sansa again.”

Jon didn’t fully understand why he had to stay away from his half-sister, but he swore the oath then and there. He didn’t even risk saying goodbye to her when he left for the Wall. Sometimes, when he took the watch at night, he’d look out over the shelf of ice and remember the crown he’d placed in Sansa’s red hair. He’d whisper a prayer into the cold air that Joffrey had become the prince Sansa deserved.


It was only flowers. Sansa liked flowers, liked to plait them in her hair and tuck them into Lady’s collar. So when Jon learned what had happened to upset her, he picked most of the blue roses in the glass gardens. He snapped off the thorns and wove a kind of crown –lopsided, hardly the perfect construction Sansa would have made. Jon might not get along with Sansa easily, but he cared for her, just like he cared for all his family. Maybe not quite the same way, since Sansa had come of age and he’d been less able to meet her eyes. Something tightened in his chest now when he saw her toss her hair over her shoulder, and he wasn’t inclined to examine the feeling too closely.

Sansa was ecstatic when the royal visit was announced. Jon would need to practice staying out of the way, but Sansa was to be put forward as a candidate for betrothal to the Baratheon prince. Sansa had always been a thoughtful, courteous girl, and she’d made a gift for Joffrey. Jon had seen her bent over her work in her lap, the tip of her tongue sticking out as she concentrated. She’d presented Joffrey with a handkerchief, emblazoned with a golden lion, that even Jon could tell was finely worked. Joffrey had bowed to her, and Sansa glowed with happiness.

At least, she did until she picked up the handkerchief by the corner that afternoon, where Joffrey had dropped it in the mud. Joffrey and his guards had just passed by the training yard, where Robb and Jon were sparring. The sound of their ugly laughter made Jon angry. He came at Robb quicker than he should have, and got in a few blows before getting thwacked in the shoulder by Robb’s wooden sword. He was rubbing his arm as he saw Sansa and Jeyne walking together. 

Robb kept striding towards the gate. Jon saw Sansa was slumping, with her head down, and he slowed his pace. Being a bastard had few privileges, but this was one of them. Jon noticed things others didn’t, and since his station lent him a kind of invisibility, he was able to hear and see details others missed. He’d surprised his lord father more than once with his knowledge of the goings-on around the castle.

“I’ll never be able to get it clean, but I suppose it makes no difference. He didn’t care for it anyway.” Sansa was twisting the dirty handkerchief in her hands. “Oh Sansa, I’m so sorry, I’m sure he didn’t mean what he said.” Jeyne sounded as if she didn’t believe her own lie. Sansa had shaken her head. “It doesn’t matter, Jeyne. I’ll stitch him finer things. I’ll be more beautiful, I’ll make him love me.” The tremor in Sansa’s voice scared Jon the most, made him afraid for her, afraid of what she might give away to this boy. So he decided to give her something of her own.

He’d found her in the godswood the next day, and listened to her, and held out the makeshift gift. “The crown of love and beauty, for you, you’re already beautiful, Sansa. He’s your prince, he’ll love you and treat you kindly. He has to. Any prince would.” You’re worth loving, he wanted to say, but he thought that might be a step too far, even though it was true. Jon placed it on her head. She’d smiled, and asked him to play an old game. Father had crashed through the branches a few minutes later, yanking him by his injured arm, while Sansa ran. 


The stitching, Sansa thought numbly, I’ll never get the mud out. She’d begged gold thread from her mother, too, to make sure the lion’s head gleamed. Her favor had floated half-in, half-out of the puddle. Joffrey’s sneering remark echoed in her ears. All she could think was that her needlework must have been coarse, and uneven, though she’d checked and checked. She had to do better, though she wasn’t sure how. So when she heard someone step through the trees into the godswood, she was momentarily angry. Couldn’t she be left alone, to cry, to be unladylike for once in her life? She wiped her eyes, and held tight to the low tree branch. A light rain had started to fall, and the bark was slightly slippery.

Jon emerged from the leaves. He was prone to sulking, and there was an anger and melancholy that never left him. But before her mother made it clear she was to have nothing to do with Jon, when she was very little, and scared of storms outside her window, Sansa would sometimes go to him at night and ask to sleep in his bed. Robb would let her too, of course. He would chuckle, and muss her hair, and tell her there was nothing to worry about before falling back asleep. Sansa would still shake, though, each time the thunder boomed. Robb was big and strong, her oldest brother. He wasn’t frightened by the storm. But Sansa was small, so small it was hard for her to climb into Robb’s bed. She couldn’t stop the fear that coursed through her each time the thunder sounded as if it would swallow her up. Jon would tell her it was all right to be scared. He would hold her, and talk to her, until the rain ceased. She could still recall how warm he’d been, how he’d sing to her in a high, sweet voice if she asked. Her lady mother forbade her from joining her half-brother in bed when she turned six, and Sansa learned that the word “bastard” separated Jon and Robb. Although Sansa dutifully turned her head away now when Jon walked by, she remembered that he’d been gentle with her, when they were children.

Still, she was ashamed of her tears, and wasn’t sure she wanted to share them. “Did you come to mock me too, Jon?” She heard the thread of anger in her voice, but held her chin high. Jon stopped in front of her, strangely quiet. It took her a moment to realize he was holding a mass of blue flowers in his hand.

“No, Sansa. I – I came to see if you were all right.”

If he had been wheedling, or commanding, she would have sent him packing. Instead he let the silence draw out between them, and Sansa began to relax. Then, slowly, she began to talk, in fits and starts. “I wasn’t – the gift, Jon, I made Joffrey a favor, I spent weeks on it, getting every stitch right, though there’s no reason for you to know that–“

“I saw you,” Jon said. “You’d work on it day and night. You brought it outside a few times, while we trained.”

“The sunlight, it’s best for certain techniques, I – you noticed?” She thought Jon Snow would be the last person to pay attention to an embroidery hoop.

“You seemed…tense, while you did it. And you stuck your tongue out.” The corner of his mouth quirked.

“I do that when I’m concentrating. Though I’d rather others couldn’t tell.”  She gathered her skirts in an effort to look dignified, even when sitting in a tree. “Yes. Well. I’d hoped – I’d hoped the prince would like it. I’m only a lady, Jon, not a princess, I have to show him I’m not stupid, I’m worth marrying, worth bringing to King’s Landing, there are so many others he could choose. I heard him, did you know that? I heard what he said, when he dropped it. ‘Trust a dog not to know a lion’s likeness.’” She twisted her damp hair around her finger. Jon listened to her, really listened as she talked, it felt liked so few people did that anymore. “I did my best, Jon, I asked Maester Luwin to show me pictures in the library, I stitched the lion as fine as I could.”

He held the flowers out to her mutely. “Thank you Jon.” Sansa was polite, but puzzled. “What is it?”

“It’s a crown,” Jon said. “Love and beauty.” She and Robb and Jon had played this game a thousand times when they were younger, the Queen of Love and Beauty. Robb, her bright-eyed brother with the easy laugh, had always won, and named her his queen. Jon was the one before her now, serious and solemn. She bowed her head. When he placed the crown on her hair, his touch was light. He told her she was beautiful, and any prince would love her.

She drew strength from his gesture, enough to bring back some of her good humor. “Should you swear fealty then?” Robb would have teased her, and chucked her under the chin. She half-expected Jon to stammer out an excuse, and leave the way he came. Instead Jon simply went down on one knee, and took her hand. They were too old for this game, and perhaps that was the reason for the flush on her cheeks. His curls were wet, and stuck to his forehead. He brushed the back of her hand with his lips. “My queen.” Jon looked up at her with dark eyes as if she already was a queen, as if there was no room for doubt.

She held onto that look, even after father’s lecture, even after arriving in King’s Landing. She thought back on it when Joffrey’s men struck her, when Littlefinger undressed her with his eyes.

After she bled, when she was to be wed to the man she knew to be a monster, she picked at the blue roses she’d embroidered on her gown. I’m already beautiful. Any prince would love me. Sansa started to cry. Jon had spoken those words that day as if they were as true and as plain as the rain that soaked her hair. 


Promise me, Ned. Ned knew he was terrifyingly close to failing Lyanna, when he saw Jon Targaryen kneeling before his daughter in the godswood, as a crown of winter roses graced her hair. Sansa’s gaze was rapt, and Jon looked at her like she was the sun and stars together. No, he thought, Jon, stop, you can’t, a love like this once broke the world apart. So he shattered the scene, sending Sansa running, dragging Jon back to Winterfell’s halls. He’d forbid his daughter and his nephew from spending time with each other. He’d send Jon to the Wall, and escort Sansa safely to King’s Landing, before he’d let a love so strong and dangerous bloom again.


ya lit meme: [1/10] series or books • the lunar chronicles by marissa meyer

“I am ready to claim what’s mine. People of Artemisia, this is your chance. Renounce Levana as your queen and swear fealty to me, or I swear that when I wear that crown, every person in this room will be punished for their betrayal.”


ya lit meme: [2/10] series or books  the lunar chronicles by marissa meyer

Cinder flexed her tongue, testing it, and raised her voice.“I am princess Selene.”
Levana leaned forward. “Your are an impostor!”
“And I am ready to claim what’s mine. People of Artemisia, this is your chance. Renounce Levana as your queen and swear fealty to me, or I swear that when I wear that crown, very person in this room will be punished for their betrayal.” 


- Continues to talk positively about Lexa and Clexa, especially whilst sat next to Jason.

- Speaks her mind about Blarke, doesn’t apologise to angry Blarke shippers and doesn’t tweet saying she really said ship instead of shit.

- Receives a barrel load of abuse from Blarkes simply because she doesn’t like their ship and a photo appears online of her with Jess Harmon with middle fingers up. I’m not saying it’s in direct response to the Blarke hate but it’s in direct response to the Blarke hate. You can bash her all you want SHE DOES NOT CARE.

- Also has to endure the Blarkes spouting shit about how she talks about Alycia. As if they ever cared about Alycia before! Saying oh I would be uncomfortable if she called me babe blah blah blah. So Eliza posts a selfie with Alycia captioned ‘found ma girl’ knowing full well that it will break the Internet and her Clexas will love it.

- Mentions how she wants Clarke to stop apologising for everything (what we’ve been saying all along) and that she hopes Clarke has a chance to grieve properly for Lexa in season 4. Basically saying FUCK YOU and your shitty writing Jason.

- Looks about ready to throttle Jason every time he talks and doesn’t hold back from showing all over her face how much she hates having to listen to his crap.

Eliza just does not give a fuck any more and I absolutely swear fealty to Eliza kom Clexakru our queen! 🙌😍

okay but an AU wherein Bucky is not taken by Hydra, but by the Unseelie court.

They build him a new arm out of twisting tree branches and vines, but they take out his (tragically fragile and human) heart and keep it in an iron casket in order to ensure his fealty. He becomes the favorite knight of the Unseelie Queen, because despite his obedience there is still an expression of horror and distaste at every act of violence he commits at her behest. His leather armor glistens black from the blood he is forced to rub in after every kill. He is known as the Black Knight.

Steve, brave noble stupid Steve, goes to get him back. And the fae are just beside themselves because here is a human that will be delicious to break, with his noble, self-sacrificing heart and his fiery temperament. And he’s so pretty with his honey hair and sea glass eyes, like the most shining members of the Seelie Court, but his unvarnished beauty is a peculiarity in the grotesque Night Court. Regardless, in order to win Bucky back, Steve has to serve the Unseelie—an uneasy match at best, and he sticks out like a sore thumb at every court gathering. He is just so bright and sweet—an excellent balance for his love, dark and sharp-edged as he is. Forcing Steve to watch every violent act that Bucky is ordered to complete and powerless to resist becomes the court’s new favorite amusement.

And Darcy is a changeling, her fey tendencies tempered by the humans who raised her, but she knows the Unseelie court and she told Steve not to go, that he wouldn’t know the rules to their games. She warned him of the consequences of serving the faeries, of the untold masses who tried to get their loved ones back only to lose their hearts in the bargain. But Steve didn’t know that Darcy was fey herself, and told her that she worried too much, and that he’d be fine and went off half-cocked and self-righteous, down the barrow and straight into a gilt trap.

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Snow’s Bastard Pt. 3

Anon asked: Pt. 3 of Jon Snow’s bastard? Maybe Jon finds out about his son? Or continuing with the reader and robb’s growng relationship?

((I chose to do  kind of a mix. In this one shot you see Robb and the reader’s relationship, how it’s evolved, but you also get to see Jon meet Torrhen.))


(Word Count: 2,051)

“Jon is coming today.” You already knew this, but still you couldn’t stop yourself from tensing the moment the words fell from your husband’s mouth. Looking up from where you were dressing your daughter, Catelyn, your eyes met the Tully blue of Robb’s and you prayed to the old and the new gods that your face didn’t show how anxious you were. “I received word that our faithful Lord Commander is about two hours away. He was just spotted at the Last Hearth.” You watched Robb’s nimble fingers set the piece of parchment down on the table before he went back to buttoning up his tunic. “Are you nervous?”

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anonymous asked:

Favourite GoT fanfics?

Slightly less fics than for faberry, sadly. If only there were more of them!

By Netgirl_y2k -

the Keep the Bouquets series - 3 one-shots based in a canon-divergent world where Sansa and Margaery were arranged to be married by Joffrey as an insult, but it doesn’t quite stay that way.

Every Wolf Has A Thorn (and even tame wolves bite) - In the dark, under the bedclothes, Margaery calls Sansa her Queen in the North, her Red Wolf.

Practice Makes Perfect - Sansa was used to people assuming that she was straight. She wasn’t even looking for a girlfriend, and she certainly wasn’t looking for one at her brother’s house party. And who invited Margaery Tyrell, anyway?

By heart_nouveau -

We court our own Captivity/than Thrones more great and innocent-  Promises meant nothing; they were little more than pretty words, and Sansa had heard enough of them to last her a lifetime. But the way that Margaery spoke, with that strange fierceness in her voice—for a moment, Sansa could almost believe her. Margaery and Sansa, together over the length of A Storm Of Swords. (** this is unfinished** it’s just really well-written and I like it a lot… but read with caution or don’t read)

do you want to be with somebody like me? - “Well, um, I’m straight,” Sansa says uncertainly.
Everyone’s heads whip around.

By hippononymous -

the moonlight overthrew you - Littlefinger never succeeds in selling the Tyrells on Joffrey so they decide to seduce away the King in the North, hoping that Margaery will one day become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms through him. Instead, Robb swears fealty to Stannis leaving Margaery to be nothing more than the Lady of Winterfell. In doing so she ends up falling for the wrong Stark.

By mautadite -

Rumor Has It -  Harry Potter-fusion AU where all of the great houses are prominent pureblood families. Slytherin!Margaery and Ravenclaw!Sansa as star-crossed lovers.
“Did you hear about Sansa Stark and Margaery Tyrell in Greenhouse Five?” The rumour mill turns.

aaand for something smutty (and still well written) -

the Holidays with Margaery series by lit_chick08 - 3 stories ft. lesbian sexually experienced Margaery and completely unaware, discovering her sexuality on-the-go Sansa.

They’re mostly fairly short but those are what I can think of off the top of my head

Finally found the balls to watch the 13 minutes of 3x09. Key points I liked:
-Aden asking if Clarke wanted a moment with Lexa before everything began
-All the Nightbloods swearing fealty to Clarke; to protect her and her people.
-Clarke having hope that Lexa is in the AI
-Murphy’s sass
-Octavia drugging Bellamy
-Aden jumping in front of Ontari to protect Clarke

Key points I hated and was unnecessary:
-Ontari blaming Clarke for the Ice Queen’s death when let’s be real it’s the Ice Queen’s fault that the Ice Queen is dead.
-Pike reminding everyone that their dying. Like we don’t need a reminder.
-Ontari cheating to become commander by killing all the Nightbloods.
- Severing Aden’s head from his body to throw it towards Clarke. Like what? What purpose is it to make sure you remove his head from his body.

anonymous asked:

SomethingLikeALawyer, when you say that Daenerys doesn't deserve to survive or succeed, what exactly are you talking about? Her behaviour so far in books, or something else? Thanks (:

grottoofregrets: What has Daenerys done that’s so terrible that you say that she doesn’t deserve to survive or succeed, and even hope that she dies?

lesmotsincompris: I second the question about Daenerys. I don’t want to see her sitting the Iron Thrones, but why you think she doesn’t deserve to succeed or survive?

Alright, I know since I said it, I was going to have to elaborate on it. So here it is, why I don’t like Daenerys, why I don’t think she’s a good queen, and why I wouldn’t want her to rule Westeros. I’ll warn you already that a lot of this bases on my own value system, so you might (and many of you probably won’t) agree with some or all of my rationale. So anyway, here we go:

Daenerys does not value her word, nor does she see her obligations as binding. This is disastrous for any political leader, but especially for one looking to rule under feudalism. Under feudalism, the feudal contract and the vassal-overlord relationship are key, and both must be abided by. Daenerys proved at Astapor that she is willing to enter into bargains that she has no intent of fulfilling, when she dealt with Kraznys. She identifies the Dothraki as her people, accepts and acts with the power of a khaleesi (even authorizing Viserys’s execution), yet as soon as the position requires her to do something she does not desire, she abandons the responsibility most handily. As a potential feudal vassal, this would concern me. Feudalism’s basic premise is that your forsake autonomy in exchange for protection. If Daenerys does not see her oaths to me as binding, how am I to rest easy if I am under attack and require her to fulfill her end of the bargain? If she enters into arrangements in deliberate bad faith, how am I to feel comfortable that she has any intent of honoring them? Will she take my troops to fight her wars and not defend my lands? Will she take my taxes but snatch up holdings in my fief to please some other vassal? If I am not a vassal, but a foreign power, this still looms large. Will she abide by peace or economic treaties? Is she receiving me in her court to discuss matters of diplomacy only to execute me? There’s always an uncertainty when dealing with an arbitrary ruler that erodes faith in the monarch, and that is something I strongly condemn in leaders of government.

Daenerys confuses justice with vengeance, which is something that I’ve talked about at length in this tumblr ask. She approaches justice completely arbitrarily, rendering verdicts out of a desire to satisfy the self rather than uphold a unified form of law. We see this when she crucifies the 163 Great Masters without finding out who was responsible for the crime, not even a cursory examination. Her inner thoughts are revealed in this chapter, and we see her weak rationalization. Crimes have to be punished, so she thinks, but she already confesses that her reason for doing that was to make her feel better for being unable to protect the 163 children crucified along the wayposts. This is wrong. The offices of government, especially in the execution of justice, aren’t vectors to satisfy the ego of the person in charge. Crime and punishment is a serious thing, and it cannot be treated as a bandage for wounded pride. Daenerys is deliberately misusing her office and duties for self-gratification. We finally see this at the end of A Dance With Dragons, where Daenerys fully embraces the mantra that dragons plant no trees. She does not desire to bring stability, peace, or growth either to Westeros or to Meereen. She wants to hurt the people who made her powerless. She wants to kill the ones who shattered her ego, by forcing her to compromise, by evicting her family from Westeros, one and all. It’s that cycle of vengeance I’ve talked about all over again. She’s lost any high-minded concept she may have had. She wants her opponents to suffer so she can feel like the glorious queen she imagines herself to be.

Daenerys confuses her office as a queen with herself as a person. This is evidenced most clearly when she deals with the wineseller and his daughters. She authorizes torture for information, which is barbaric on its own, but for the time period, I can’t criticize it as much as I would. Torture for information important to the state was a standard practice, as we see with Tyland Lannister and the position of the Lord Confessor. As disgusting at that practice is (not to mention that empirical research indicates that torture simply doesn’t yield accurate data, which Martin hints at numerous times throughout the novel series), the characters of the setting understand it as a standard practice of government. What I can criticize, however, is that she authorizes torture because she finds out that Rylona Rhee, a harpist she was particularly fond of and a leader of a former-slave committee. She is not acting in respects to the murder, nor is she acting out of doing so because the victim was an agent of the state (the Unsullied are actors of the state, and she refused to authorize the Shavepate’s torture when she learned there were Unsullied among the victims). She only authorizes the torture because she personally knew the victim. Impartiality is a key component of justice, and if a judge cannot be impartial, I cannot have faith in justice. We see this also when she judges Jorah and Barristan for collaborating with Robert’s court. She considers both equally guilty of the same crime, but she pardons Barristan and exiles Jorah not because of their crimes, but because she felt Jorah was not contrite enough. Had she judged Jorah’s crime more severely, because his information led to her attempted assassination, that would be one thing, but we clearly see in her chapters that she was angry that he did not immediately beg for forgiveness. She sees the state as the extension of herself and cannot separate the two, thus her judgment must always be called into question. I cannot have faith in the judgment of the monarch if I can reasonably expect her to judge differently based on her own personal investment in the case. Corruption of the court is the reason why King Jaehaerys I abolished the Faith’s right to conduct trials, and Daenerys’s judgment is equally corrupt and impure. Even Henry VIII, bloody-handed tyrant that he was, said he was not above the law. Dany, however, views her personal desires and opinions as superior to the law, and I cannot respect nor swear fealty to a monarch who does such a thing.

Daenerys is a petty, arbitrary tyrant exemplifying some of the worst traits a monarch can have. She views monarchy primarily as a sense of self-gratification, that only her own desires matter (damn what anyone else thinks), and that’s what’s good for her ego is good for the state. She abandons her obligations when they inconvenience her, and now justifies further destruction of the innocent and guilty alike because the throne belongs to her. There’s no high-minded concept here, just: “I deserve to be queen.” The notion that there are limits to a king’s power, the notion that a king who violates his lordly obligations and the social contract is no true king, all of the faults that Robert’s Rebellion addressed, go away under a Targaryen restoration spearheaded by Daenerys. In their place, Daenerys leaves the idea that the state exists wholly with the selfish whims of an absolute monarch, one who believes that guilt and innocence are secondary to feeling powerful and dominating all dissenters, and one who believes that lordly obligations are second to personal satisfaction. Daenerys’s ascension means that Robert’s Rebellion was wrong, that the Targaryens are answerable to no man or justice. Westeros needs a monarch who will treat the position with the gravity and honor that the position deserves, and respect the heavy burden that it requires. All of the people who labored to make Westeros a better government, Jaehaerys I, Good Queen Alysanne, Septon Barth, Viserys II, Aegon V, Jon Arryn, Eddard Stark, Davos Seaworth, all of them, deserve to have their efforts pay off.

Thanks for the question Grotto, Compris, and all of the Anons who were waiting patiently for an answer to this.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

so for once i’m glad i’m heartless

an: Just a little addition to this headcanon, which got wildly out of hand as I was writing it and would not quite leave me alone. rival pirate captain au with a little bonus oq, if you squint. (Title stolen from Wicked’s “March of the Witch Hunters” [So for once I’m glad I’m heartless, I’ll be heartless killing her!])

They’re docked in a small port town just outside of Emma’s former kingdom, Emma and Killian’s crew both already well into their cups while their captain’s engage in a staring contest the likes of which Robin has never been witness to before.

Whatever rumors may or may not have been true about the duo, Robin is certain as he watches them both that there is something going on between them.

He’s been watching them for an hour before one of them moves, the princess winding her way around the tables and her drunken crew to reach the bar, and he watches her for a moment as she leans far over the counter, grinning lasciviously at the barmaid there as her arms press close into her sides. The barmaid seems flustered, and rightly so - though this girl-turned woman was never meant to be a sovereign of this particular spit of land, most of the people here had known her growing up, could still remember the tales of her kindness, her sweetness. Her innocence.

Too late he realizes the barmaid isn’t the only one being played. He feels the press of metal against his neck a moment too late, his arm batted away with ease as he reaches for the dagger at his hip, and the voice behind him is low and cool. “Fancy a stroll in the mooonlight, mate?”


Emma watches Hook lead their mystery man out into the alley, tosses far too much coin down onto the counter as her flustered barmaid gawks at her, and retreats out the front door. Eager to keep her destination as clandestine as possible, she ducks down an alleyway two shops down, and follows the winding path back towards the docks. 

It doesn’t take her long to find them. Hook has his cutlass out, and the man who has been following them the last two nights stands with his back to a wall, arms raised as though in surrender. It takes her a moment to recognize the man, without the hood hiding his face, but only a moment.


“Your Highness.”

He bows low, ignoring the twitch of Hook’s cutlass, and Emma, unthinkingly, reaches for the man’s arm to lower his blade. They both ignore the tension as she releases it as though it were ablaze, taking a step back from him as she stares down at the man who had been so loyal to her mother. “It’s Captain, now. Just Captain.”

Both men seem as though they have something particular to say about the ‘just’ but she doesn’t care to let them. 

“You’ve been watching us for days. Why?”

“Would you believe I feared for your safety in such company?”

Emma continues to stare at the man. They both know that even before Regina’s takeover, she’d have been more than capable of securing her own safety against the likes of Captain Hook.

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Let’s talk about how impressive Luna’s brief fight sequence what. Luna has not fought in about 5 years and can single handedly take down opponents (also add the fact that she had been tortured for over an hour). She hasn’t entered combat and she probably hasn’t trained with frequency but she is such an accomplished fighter that it all simply flows back into her when she needs it. I swear fealty. 


Queens consort of England - Adeliza of Louvain

Adeliza or Adelicia of Louvain was the daughter of Godfrey I, Count of Louvain, Duke of Lower Lotharingia, Landgrave of Brabant and Count of Louvain and Brussels and his wife Ida of Chiny, a descendant of the Emperor Charlemagne.

Known as ‘the fair maiden of Brabant’, Adeliza was renowned for her beauty, in his 'Historia Anglorum’ the chronicler Henry of Huntingdon refers to Adeliza’s beauty, “A jewel grows pale on you, a crown does not shine. Put adornment aside, for nature provides your adornment.”

When William the Atheling, the only legitimate son of King Henry I of England drowned in the sinking of the White Ship on 25 November 1120, Henry urgently needed a male heir to succeed to his throne. The fifty three year old King Henry took the seventeen year old Adelicia as his second wife on 24 January 1121. Henry I’s first wife, Matilda of Scotland, had died in 1118. Despite the reputation he had acquired for begetting illegitimate children, Henry’s marriage to his first queen had produced only two children, William the Atheling and a daughter Matilda, who had been sent to Germany to marry the Holy Roman Emperor as an eight year old child. After the death of her husband the Emperor, he recalled his daughter, by now known as the Empress, to England. Henry named her as his heiress and made the barons swear fealty to her.

Henry of Huntingdon recorded that the new queen accompanied Henry to London at Pentecost. The fifteen year marriage of Adelicia and Henry never produced children. Unlike Henry’s first wife Matilda, Adeliza appears to have played a very passive role. While Matilda issued some thirty-one charters and writs during her reign, during Adeliza’s fifteen-year marriage to Henry I she issued one, and she only attested 13 of Henry’s many charters, even though they were almost always together.

After the death of her husband the king on 1 December 1135, the throne was usurped by his nephew Stephen of Blois. Adeliza retired to the Benedictine convent of Wilton Abbey, near Salisbury. She attended the dedication of Henry’s tomb at Reading Abbey on the first anniversary of his death. At about that time, she founded a leper hospital dedicated to Saint Giles at Fugglestone St Peter, Wiltshire. On the first anniversary of Henry I’s death, Adeliza give the manor of Aston to the Abbey of Reading, and endowed them with lands “to provide for the convent and other religious pweaona [sic] coming to the abbey on the occasion of the anniversary of my lord King Henry.” She also added the gift of a church a few years later.

Henry I provided generously for his widow, she was given the revenues of Rutland, Shropshire and a large district of London, with possession of the city of Chichester. Henry also gave the manor of Aston to Adeliza “as his queen and wife.” Landholdings that were part of Adeliza of Louvain’s dower include Waltham in Essex, an estate in south-east England, with areas in Hertfordshire and Bedfordshire, Buckinghamshire, Berkshire, and Middlesex. She had property in Devon. As a gift from Henry I, she was given a property in Ashleworth, a component of the royal estate of Berkley. In 1126 the whole county of Shropshire was given to her.

Three years after Henry I’s death, in 1138, Adeliza married for a second time to William d'Aubigny, 1st Earl of Arundel, the son of William d'Aubigny and Maud le Bigod. The D'Aubigny’s were royal stewards and held an important position at court. The couple lived at Adelicia’s castle of Arundel on the Norfolk coast. Although there were no children from her first marriage Adeliza presented her second husband with seven children, Alice, William, Olivia, Reynor, Geoffrey, Henry, and Agatha d’ Aubigny. Adeliza and William’s descendants include Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard, the second and fifth queens of Henry VIII. The descendants of Adeliza and William still own Castle Rising and Arundel Castle to the present day.

England was plunged into a bloody Civil War when Matilda, the daughter and appointed heir of Henry I, challenged her cousin Stephen for the throne. Adeliza received her step-daughter at her home in Arundel, along with Matilda’s illegitimate half-brother Robert, 1st Earl of Gloucester, the chief supporter of her cause, in defiance of her husband’s wishes, William d'Aubigny was a staunch supporter of Stephen.

She later betrayed them both and handed them over to King Stephen, John of Worcester recorded that “she feared the king’s majesty and worried that she might lose the great estate she held throughout England.” He also mentions Adeliza’s attempts to pacify King Stephen, “she swore on oath that his enemies had not come to England on her account but that she had simply given them hospitality as persons of high dignity once close to her.”

In 1150, Adeliza left William d'Aubigny to enter the monastery of Afflighem in Flanders. One of her brothers was also living at the monastery. The annals at the monastery mention her death, which occurred in 1151, and her place of burial site is not known with certainty. Some traditions imply she was buried at the monastery of Afflighem, however a donation made by her brother Joscelin of Louvain to Reading Abbey would seem to indicate that she was buried there with her first husband, Henry I.