He holds her tightly to him at night, beard tickling her cheek and lips against her hair as he whispers how strong their sons will be; how beautiful their daughters. He kisses the shell of her ear and the corner of her mouth and even presses butterfly-light kisses to all of her toes and only laughs when she kicks him.
He calls for bards and dancers and musicians and all sorts of people and never once thinks her love of beauty silly, he just sits in a corner by the hearth and beams whenever their eyes meet. He buys her dresses and has the cook make lemoncakes whenever she looks sad or even ‘just because’.
Last Hearth may not be a southern castle and its people are as rough and refined as they can be, but they are hers and she loves them as much as they love her. And Jon would never be her golden prince but the way he sweeps her of her feet and carries her over his shoulder could never compare to any song or story.
(and when Joffrey takes her father’s head and Robb calls his banners she finds gold has quite lost its shine)
Amongst the houses reduced from royals to vassals we can count the Flints of Breakstone Hill, the Slates of Blackpool, the Umbers of Last Hearth, the Lockes of Oldcastle, the Glovers of Deepwood Motte, the Fishers of the Stony Shore, the Ryders of the Rills…and mayhaps even the Blackwoods of Raventree, whose own family traditions insist they once ruled most of the wolfswood before being driven from their lands by the Kings of Winter (certain runic records support this claim, if Maester Barneby’s translations can be trusted). // nur fettahoğlu as betha blackwood, selma ergeç as melissa blackwood
This is why I love the Umbers so much: the Greatjon is introduced in Game as this larger-than-life none-more-Northern badass, roaring with laughter after his fingers get torn off…and then we meet his uncles in Clash, and they make him look positively moderate. Like, I imagine Lord Jon trying to rule sensibly at Last Hearth, doing his best to ignore Mors and Hother hovering in the background, muttering “sellout” and “these kids, bro, they don’t got the spine we had in our day” and “great? Great? That’s all you got, nephew? Wegot our nicknames from playing bitey-backsies with a bird and arrangin’ intestines on a tree, and you settle for a one-syllable common-as-dirt adjective? Pfft. And you call yourself an Umber.”
So when Grey Wind ate the Greatjon’s fingers, there’s no way he wasn’t thinking to himself “Hmm, ‘Wolfsfood?’ Nah, that’s just an imitation, that won’t impress them…”
Carter sighed as she scrubbed the floors, her back aching. She had had to sleep on the floor in front of the hearth last night, because her room in the attic was too cold. As she cleaned the floors, she noticed how dirty her hands were. She was covered in soot, and had resolved to wash up after the floor was clean when her stepmother came in the kitchen, standing right in front of her scrub brush.
“Yes madame?” She says, looking up, pushing her hair out of her face with a soapy hand.
Her stepmother sneered at her, disgusted by her dirty state, and not caring at all that she was the reason Carter was like this.
“Lucinda and Ginerva need breakfast in bed. Ginerva has an awful weak ankle and Lucinda won’t leave her sister, bless her heart.” The stepmother sighed fondly, then all fondness disappeared as she snapped at her stepdaughter.
“Get to work.” she barked, then left, her long dress trailing behind her.
Carter sighed, wiped her forehead.
Washing up would have to wait.
She finished the floor, then grabbed her basket and wiped her hands on her apron, setting out to the market to get more fruit and eggs.
Her stepsisters were picky. Very picky. And Carter didn’t want to have to make a delicious breakfast just to have it thrown on the floor. Again.
Luckily, it was a beautiful day, so Carter found herself enjoying her walk, humming to herself with a small smile.
Gilgamesh’s Song. A Fate Edition of “ Oggie Boogies song”
well, well, what have we here? Emiya, huh? Oh, I’m really
scared So you’re the one everybody’s talkin’ about, ha, ha, ha,
jokin’, you’re jokin’ I can’t believe my eyes You’re jokin’ me,
you gotta be This can’t be the right guy He’s young and he’s
ugly I don’t know which is worse I might just split a sword
now lf I don’t die laughing first When King Gilgamesh
says There’s mongrels close at hand You’d better pay attention
now ‘Cause I’m the Archer Man And if you aren’t shakin’ Then
there’s something very wrong 'Cause this may be the last time now
you hear the Gil-Gil song, ohhh
he’s the OP servant Man
if I’m feelin’ bored now And there’s nothin’ much to do I might
just kill a special batch Of a mongrel and cur few And don’t ya
know the one thing That would make it work so nice? A faker
Shirou Emiya to make it oh-so nice
Oh, yeah, I’m (he’s) the OP Archer Man
me now Or you must face the dire consequences Saber is
expecting me So please, come to your senses
jokin’, you’re jokin’ I can’t believe my ears Would EA shut
this fella up I’m drownin’ in my tears It’s funny, I’m
laughing You really are too much And now, with your
permission I’m going to make my plan
are you going to do?
gonna do the best I can
the sound of Gate of Babylon To me is music in the air 'Cause
I’m a overpowered servant man Because I don’t play fair
much more fun, I must confess When lives are on the line Not
mine, of course, but yours, young boy Now that’d be just fine
me fast or you will have to Answer for this heinous act
Faker, you’re something You put us in a spin You aren’t
comprehending The position that you’re in It’s hopeless, you’re
finished Kirei hasen’t got a prayer 'Cause I’m King
Gilgamesh And you ain’t going nowhere
this is such a reach but grey wind’s head was huge and shaggy dog’s head is so little i hope this is some ploy by the umbers to fake out ramsay and that shaggy dog is really just chilling back at the last hearth