last hearth

Jon Snow was 10000% right when he allowed the remaining Karstarks and Umbers to keep their lands. He was right because if he followed the idiotic demands thrown at him to strip those children from their lands, he would have created more enemies for himself and the Starks. Allowing the innocent children of dead traitors to keep their homes wasn’t just the morally right thing to do, it was the best political decision. If he had stripped them of Karhold and Last Hearth, he would have risked alienating the people who are still loyal to House Umber and House Karstark. Whoever he gave those lands to wouldn’t be able to hold those lands peacefully since there would likely be uprisings and minor, meaningless wars that would only continue to weaken the North as a whole and distract Jon from the true enemy. Also, keep in mind, there was just a massive civil war last season. It isn’t as though the Starks have an endless supply of soldiers to enforce the new rule of whoever the idiots want to gift those two subregions to. By allowing the remaining Karstark and Umber to return to the fold, Jon showed his people that he wasn’t an irrational fool driven by vengeance over logic, gave those two Houses and their supporters a reason to be loyal to him, and helped him peacefully unify the North without wasting more lives and time on political upheavals. 

Even the ruthless Tywin Lannister understood this.

“Joffrey, when your enemies defy you, you must serve them steel and fire. When they go to their knees, however, you must help them back to their feet. Elsewise no man will ever bend the knee to you.” – ASOS 

TL; DR: Jon was right and has begun to redeem himself after the personality transplant of S6.

girl-of-ink  asked:

bro i love ur hearth so much... he's so lovely. ever thought about drawing him & blitz?

smooch

djislame  asked:

Wait a sec so Whorsebane is suppose to be an intimidating character even for somebody like Roose,I feel like I missed this. Also he's gay I feel like I missed that also. Which if he is is kinda cool that he's this intimidating gay man from a house known to be imposing and intimidating.

*rubs hands together* Yes, please, let’s take a deep dive into the characterization of Hother “Whoresbane” Umber, the smartest and most dangerous member of his clan and one of my favorite background characters in all of ASOIAF.

Does “most dangerous Umber” seem like a stretch? Don’t get me wrong, I certainly wouldn’t want Crowfood or the Greatjon mad at me, but they’re presented as jovial life-of-the-party drunks as much as badasses. There’s a wry affectionate “oh, you scamps” sort of tone to how GRRM writes the Umber men…except Whoresbane, who is framed with an ice-cold laser-focused menace about him that his kin do not possess, despite Hother being the least physically imposing of the lot. Within the Northern political community, “Old Whoresbane” has a well-established reputation as perhaps the most fearsome figure within that community, a living legend spoken of in whispers (rather than the loud-and-proud stories surrounding big brother Mors), someone with whom you simply do not fuck if you care to see another spring: 

A crow had once taken Mors for dead and pecked out his eye, so he wore a chunk of dragonglass in its stead. As Old Nan told the tale, he’d grabbed the crow in his fist and bitten its head off, so they named him Crowfood. She would never tell Bran why his gaunt brother Hother was called Whoresbane.

Odd as it might seem, old Hoarfrost Umber had once believed his youngest son had the makings of a maester. Mors loved to boast about the crow who took his eye, but Hother’s tale was only told in whispers…most like because the whore he’d disemboweled had been a man. 

And now the Bastard of Bolton was riding south with Hother Umber to join them for an attack on Moat Cailin. “The Whoresbane his own self,” claimed a riverman who’d just brought a load of hides and timber down the White Knife, “with three hundred spearmen and a hundred archers. Some Hornwood men have joined them, and Cerwyns too.”

“Night work is not knight’s work,” Lady Dustin said. “And Lord Wyman is not the only man who lost kin at your Red Wedding, Frey. Do you imagine Whoresbane loves you any better? If you did not hold the Greatjon, he would pull out your entrails and make you eat them, as Lady Hornwood ate her fingers.”

“Fear is what keeps a man alive in this world of treachery and deceit. Even here in Barrowton the crows are circling, waiting to feast upon our flesh. The Cerwyns and the Tallharts are not to be relied on, my fat friend Lord Wyman plots betrayal, and Whoresbane…the Umbers may seem simple, but they are not without a certain low cunning.”

But, I hear you protest again: more menacing than Roose Bolton? Surely not! Well, look at how Roose himself describes Whoresbane. That ellipsis speaks volumes: Whoresbane Umber is so thoroughly intimidating that Roose gods-damned Bolton, the Leech Lord, Westeros’ answer to Vlad the Impaler, is reduced to trailing off and staring into the middle distance, ultimately unable to bring himself to cite specifics.

That’s the first layer. The second layer is the implication that Whoresbane has been the brains of Last Hearth for a very, very long time. He was only at the Citadel in the first place because his father Hoarfrost (which: yes) believed he had “the makings of a maester,” which certainly bucks the Umber stereotype. After Hother came home, his status as the smartest man in the room–a Halfmaester, if you will–has held as the decades have gone by. The Greatjon is certainly not an idiot (just look at how he tests and then crowns Robb), but his grab-with-both-hands approach to life carries with it some significant blind spots, and it’s Whoresbane who rides to Winterfell to point them out:

Hother wanted ships. “There’s wildlings stealing down from the north, more than I’ve ever seen before. They cross the Bay of Seals in little boats and wash up on our shores. The crows in Eastwatch are too few to stop them, and they go to ground quick as weasels. It’s longships we need, aye, and strong men to sail them. The Greatjon took too many. Half our harvest is gone to seed for want of arms to swing the scythes.”

Contrast Hother with Mors, and the picture becomes crystal clear. Crowfood, too, is far from stupid, but he comes to Winterfell to dance with the serving girls and offer his magical grief-curing cock to Lady Hornwood. Whoresbane is the one with the numbers in his head, the one keeping track of the harvest and the wildlings, the one looking out for the smallfolk of Last Hearth. Crowfood is doing everything he can to escape his brother’s household; Whoresbane is the one the Greatjon trusted to keep the lights on and bring concerns to the Stark in Winterfell. 

And yes, as that anecdote about his time in Oldtown reveals, Whoresbane is gay. (Or possibly bi, but again, Crowfood is the one who asks for Lady Hornwood’s hand and macks on the serving girls, whereas Whoresbane shows interest in neither.) For me, this is part of an overall characterization in which Whoresbane defies the public image of his House and yet somehow also turns that image up to 11. Hother Umber is a gay man in a family of aggressively straight dudes, a “gaunt” and “cadaverous” man in a family of larger-than-life giants, an intellectual in a family of jocks, and is still the most metal of them all, and everyone knows it. How can you not love that?

What really cements Whoresbane as one of my favorites, though, are the hints about what the payoff for this characterization will look like. In ADWD, Whoresbane joins Team Bolton, taking half the remaining Umber men to the Dreadfort (and from there to Moat Cailin, Barrowton, and finally Winterfell) while leaving the rest with Crowfood. As Barbrey tells us, though, there’s no pretense that he’s actually loyal to Roose and Ramsay. Indeed, in Theon’s first ADWD chapter, we see that Whoresbane is wearing armor even to dinner, and can’t stop himself from expressing disgust at Ramsay’s treatment of Theon. And then, in Theon’s released TWOW chapter, we learn a very telling detail: 

“Mors took the green boys and Hother took the greybeards.”

Whoresbane didn’t just randomly select half the remaining men at Last Hearth. He specifically brought his fellow greybeards with him. And what is it that old Northmen do when the food runs short as we know it is at Last Hearth (“half our harvest is gone to seed for want of arms to swing the scythes”), when winter is no longer coming, but here?

Alys sighed. “My father took so many of our men south with him that only the women and young boys were left to bring the harvest in. Them, and the men too old or crippled to go off to war. Crops withered in the fields or were pounded into the mud by autumn rains. And now the snows are come. This winter will be hard. Few of the old people will survive it, and many children will perish as well.”

It was a tale that any northmen knew well. “My father’s grandmother was a Flint of the mountains, on his mother’s side,” Jon told her. “The First Flints, they call themselves. They say the other Flints are the blood of younger sons, who had to leave the mountains to find food and land and wives. It has always been a harsh life up there. When the snows fall and food grows scarce, their young must travel to the winter town or take service at one castle or the other. The old men gather up what strength remains in them and announce that they are going hunting. Some are found come spring. More are never seen again.”

“Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue.”

So I think Whoresbane’s master plan (and given all of the the above, I’d say it’s very much his plan, and Crowfood is following his lead) is to lead the old men on a glorious kamikaze mission against the hated Boltons, while Crowfood preserves the next generation, who now may have enough to eat. Like his great-nephew Smalljon, he’ll go down a Stark man to the end, Umber on the inside where it counts. 

Dany is going to burn King’s Landing

I want to write about why I think the show is foreshadowing Dany burning King’s Landing next season. But I need to state some things first.

The fascinating thing about Daenerys is the fact she has immoral behavior, like almost every character in ASOIAF have, but the audience refuses to see her bad sides no matter what.
It’s great to see how you can tell a history and place a character as a hero no matter what but at the same time it’s kinda scary that the public can agree with such behavior.
She does a lot of terrible choices but people don’t think she has a big issue and shouldn’t be in a position of power, the massive reaction is just “hey, she has some minor flaws but nobody is perfect, okey? Leave her be”.

In the books Daenerys allows torture, which is a war crime. And at episode 5 Daenerys intentionally killed the Tarly’s, who were defeated in battle, were unarmed and were offering no resistance to the escort. The Tarly’s were in a  surrendering party resulted by a defeated in battle, and were intentionally killed by Daenerys. This is a war crime.  When Tyrion suggested to put them in cells, she declared “she would not put man in chains ” aka “not make prisoners” which is also a war crime. The offer she gave the remaining soldiers was “join me or die”. This is not a choice. This is a declaration that no quarter will be given and THIS IS  a war crime. When your enemies surrender you spare their lives and  take them as war prisoners you DO NOT execute them or demand them to fight against their remaining families and compatriotes cuz THIS IS NOT how a surrender works.
The show makes Daenerys commits war crimes intentionally even after people tell her it’s a bad idea. And the scary part is: the audience think is fine.
I’m pretty much convinced Daenerys is going to do a lot more than that in the future and the audience will buy it.

Since D&D have talked with GRRM about how the series is going to end, Daenerys tone in the series has changed a little bit. Since season 6, her “super badass” scenes turned into a “that’s nice but there’s something a little bit weird”. Her theme songs came from “I’m fighting to survive cuz I’m alone in the world and this is actually badass justice” to a more villain like kind of song, way darker and sinister. The camera angles and the points of view of her actions are different now, and the scenes that were exciting before became kinda sad and weird. If you rewatch the sack of Astapor at 3x4 and her battle against the Lannister army at 7x4 you will notice the huge difference of how they treated it.

So here’s where the tinfoil begins.

It’s about the Politics

I believe the Great War against the army of the dead will not be the final of GoT. GoT and ASOIAF are about the politics. The Night King wasn’t introduced till season 4 and he really became the major  treat only at season 5.. Daenerys’s dragons weren’t born till 10x1, they only had a real role at season 6 when Dany finally could control them and they were big enough to go to war. Many storylines still happen aside the whole magic. GoT is about the GAME OF THRONES. And that’s how the story will end. After the war is done, a political struggle will rise and things will get trick. The armies will be broken, Cersei will have the Golden Company at her back, Jon’s parentage will rise, the northerners will probably not fulfil Jon’s pledge to Daenerys, Dany may even lose one of her remaining dragons. Things will be very chaotic and chaos is a ladder.

The Great War is going to end at Winterfell.

Season 7 solved a large problem: how to destroy the army of the dead?
Conveniently if you kill the Night King, the wights die and the war is over. Simple as that.
Bran has been stated as a great threat to the Night King, almost as he’s the Night King true enemy. The Night King himself entered the cave to kill the last Three Eyed Raven and he seems to have a particular interest in Bran. The show has implied that Bran is waiting for him. And he’s waiting for him at Winterfell.
Daenerys is leading her army and remaining dragons to Winterfell and Jaime is much likely riding to Winterfell too.
Not only Sansa was featured preparing Winterfell for the war for the Dawn, but many characters have stated the importance of this castle.

Jon: “We can’t defend the north from the Walkers and the south from the Boltons. If we’re gonna survive we need Winterfell

Jon:“If they breach the Wall, the first two castle in their path [before Winterfell] is Last Hearth and Karhold”

Sansa:“Every direction the threat comes this [Winterfell] is the best place to be.”

Jaime: “If Winterfell falls, we [King’s Landing] fall. Three days.”

The bulk of the living forces in Westeros will be at Winterfell, if Winterfell falls, it would mean the entire army has fallen and basically all hope is lost. The Golden Company is Cersei’s hope but seriously? She’s not a military person. I trust way more Jaime’s opinions and he said their fate depend on Winterfell.
So I don’t think the WW will ever come near to King’s Landing because they will be defeated at Winterfell.

All The talking about King’s Landing and the Mad King’s Daughter

The safety of King’s Landing was a great concern to Daenerys and Cersei this season.
They’ve talked about how many people live there, how they should attack it, how they shouldn’t, how the city would fall easily, how they should defended it.
When they talk so much about an issue like this you can bet something will happen there. They talked a hundred times about the Wall, and the Wall fell. They talked 87439349 times Dany had THREE dragons, and she lost one. They’ve talked a million times how she can’t have children, so of course she’s gonna get pregnant next season. And they’ve talked a hundred times about King’s Landing. Something is going to happen there. Something bad.
Here are some of the most notable moments.

Dany: “If Viserys had three dragons, and an army at his back, he’d have invaded King’s Landing already

Yara: “We should hit King’s Landing now, hard, with everything we have”

and Dany’s response was:  “I will not attack King’s Landing. WE will not attack King’s Landing.”

Olenna said “Then how you mean to take the Iron Throne?”

And two episodes after she’s at rage because Tyrion’s plans have failed her and this was her visceral response:

“I have three large dragons.I’m gonna fly them to the Red Keep

Tyrion:“We’ve discussed this…”

My enemies are IN the Red Keep”.

And at the meeting at the Dragonpit she told Cersei:
“Your capital will be safe, until the north threat is dealt with

These are very interesting because we see Dany wants to take KL, but she haven’t done yet, because her advisors told her not to. But the thing is, Olenna told her not to listen to Tyrion and to be a dragon, and as the season goes she ignores him many times and even accuse him  of plotting against her more than once. The more Tyrion tries to make her listen more she ignores his advices.
Dany always had problems with that. Her very “black and white” vision sometimes led her to have bad ideas she just didn’t turn reality because she had  advisors who convinced her otherwise. But now she’s not  listening to her advisors anymore, and maybe the show told us her future through Varys”s words:

Tyrion:“Daenerys is not her father”

Varys :“And she never will be. With the right counsel. “

Daenerys is not her father is also another phrase they said a lot this season. They keep calling her “mad king’s daughter” and they even told us more than once what the Mad King did to Brandon and Rickard Stark. It’s almost like the show  is saying “Her father was mad. Don’t forget that”

Important characters have fled King’s Landing

They did a massive reunion at King’s Landing this season. Tyrion and Davos visited King’s Landing in a rush. They showed the Dragonpit, the place where Balerion’s skull is kept and winter upon King’s Landing. It’s almost like the show is saying  “let’s make a scene there because this is our last chance”. Bye bye King’s Landing. And now aside from Cersei all the remaining characters we care left KL. Jaime fucking Lannister and even Gendry we didn’t know was alive left King’s Landing.
The only important character left there is Cersei. Daenerys’ ultimate enemy.
They quoted more than once the amount of people living in King’s Landing at episode 7x7. Why would they do that if it wasn’t important? The time is short this seasons and the lines mean something.

Dany’s Visions

One thing that really upsets me in the show is the visions Dany had at the House of the Undying. In the book she sees lots of things important as fuck but in the show she has three visions. THREE FUCKING MISERABLE VISIONS. But if you look at them now you’ll see they are important as fuck too. And it’s the first one I want to talk about.
She enters at the Throne Room and there’s snow on the floor but the snow only starts to fall heavily when she looks up. And when she looks up and TA DAAAAAA, there’s no ceiling.
The Throne Room is destroyed like something came from the sky and destroyed the whole thing. Like I said I don’t think the Night King will ever come close to King’s Landing because the battle for the Dawn will most likely to end at Winterfell so what or who could came from the sky and destroy the Red Keep like this?

In the books it’s clear to me she see things that matter to her, her visions in the House of the Undying are about her life and important events that could have, that have or will happen to her. Things that relate to her somehow. The visions are not meaningless. So why would she see the Throne Room but not the Night King destroying it? Probably because she was the one who destroyed the place. She sees the destruction she made.

Bran’s vision

Bran’s visions were actually the very first trigger to me. At episode 6x6, after Hodor’s death Bran is running with Meera and uploading the visions from the - RIP older -Three Eyed Raven. D&D said they spend hours to choose which scene would be there cuz they were fucking important. PARAMOUNT IMPORTANCE. It’s was the first time we saw the Mad King,  there were some old scenes from the past seasons BUT there were some new ones that I don’t recall to see before..  

This one that features a single dragon in the sky.

And also this one that features a shadow of a single dragon over King’s Landing and there’s smoke in some places.

The tricky thing here is that these two scenes along with the scene where the Night King turns the Craster’s baby into a WW repeat 5 or 6 times. Only this three scenes repeat so much. 

For 3 times these scenes with the single dragon are followed by the scene of Daenerys with Drogon on her shoulder. No other dragon appears on Bran’s visions, only Drogon. There’s no other vision of Daenerys, only this one that always appears after the vision of KL burning.

If you ask me, the visions show King’s Landing burning by dragon fire and then who is responsible for that: Daenerys and Drogon.

Daenerys’s dragons are her advantage at war. In ADWD she even thinks she could never conquer the Seven Kingdoms without them. She already lost one to the Night King. What if she loses one more? She’d probably be desperate and hopeless. With only one dragon left she’d see herself with no better option to take the Iron Throne than to do what she already wants to do: attack King’s Landing.
That’s why Bran saw this in his visions. He saw the Mad King wanting to destroy the capital, and he saw Dany fulfilling her father’s vision.

Bran sees Jaime but not Cersei. Jaime already tried to kill Daenerys this season, will he try again at season 8 after Daenerys attack all the people he lost his honor to protect?

Daenerys burning King’s Landing on rampage is something I can see happening. It would fulfil the “Mad Queen/Daenerys villain theory” and part of the  audience would even agree with her actions, and say she’s not mad, she’s just at war and that’s the only option she had left. Only Cersei is left at KL so people would not feel sorry how we felt when Tyrell’s died in the sept. Cersei has yet to lose everything to a more beautiful and younger queen. Her family is gone, all she has left is the throne, and Daenerys is coming to take it.
When Cersei had lost everything then and only then the valonqar will kill her. She’ll probably flee KL during the fires just to be killed right after.


Daenerys have been accused of being a foreign invader by many people  this season, the Westerosi don’t trust her and burning King’s Landing would give the remaining Lords of Westeros more than enough reasons to rebel against her. I can think many ways this could lead to a Sansa x Daenerys struggle but this post is huge already so maybe another time.

10

ola, esse tumblr é novo então sigam se gostarem e façam pedidos na ask por favor, meu nome é hellen mas podem me chamar de hells

eu fiz essas headers de algumas séries não ‘’muito’’ conhecidas, espero que gostem

just like

Lady Karstark and Lord Umber

I know many people already talked about this but since I wrote about this matter for another post and in the end I decided that post was already too long I’m gonna post it anyway here.

Jon and Sansa relationship is still a work in progress so it’s normal that they disagree on some matters.

I think an arguments in a relationship can be a good thing too but nevertheless it’s still a little sad that while Jon told Sansa last season:

We need to trust each other

it looks like he still has some troubles to remember that trust is a two-way street.

Because he said:

And how should I be smarter? By listening to you?

Yes Jon, you should listen to her.

Jon asked Sansa to trust him therefore he should trust her too, in other words he should be willing to listen to her too.

Ruling the biggest kingdom is not gonna be easy and since Starkbowl is just smokescreen Jon can share his burden with Sansa, she is smart and she wants to help him.

Lady Karstark and Lord Umber matter is proof that together they would have made a better decision, because they were both right about it.

Even if I think Jon’s decision is a good one ( I saw enough outraged Jon’s fan so I know they are gonna say this is another pro Sansa post, but it’s not since 1) I’m not trying to put the blame on one of them and 2) I love both of them) his decision is not the perfect one.

True, it’s wrong to:

punish a son for his father’s sins

but Last Hearth and Karhold are not 2 small cities,after Winterfell they are 2 of the most important castles in the North.

For me Jon should have named someone as protector or castellan of the two new lords.

Let’ not forget that:

  • the new lord and lady are young and inexpert ( the cute Lord Umber looked like a babe in the woods and Lady Karstark was frightened to death) and not everyone is like Lady Mormont at that age;
  • for sure there are people around them that agreed with Smalljon and Harald Karstark to fight for the Boltons, people who agreed to fight against the Stark.

With this in mind I can’t ignore the fact that Sansa was right too when she said:

We should give the Last Hearth and Karhold to new families, loyal families who supported us against Ramsay.

That’s why I said a castellan or a protector would have been the perfect solution, that way the castles would have stayed in the hands of their rightful heirs.

I’m sure with the Great War almost upon them D&D won’t go back to lord Umber and Lady Karstark matter but still Jon should not be so trusting of everyone, he need to be smarter ( like Sansa said) because the last time he blindly trusted people to follow his decisions because he was doing the right thing and was too focused on his mission he got himself killed.

To rule Jon needs to play the game, that’s what Sansa tried to tell him.

Sansa is on his side and he can trust her, she told him

I’m not trying to undermine you. You have to be smarter than Father. You need to be smarter than Robb. I loved them, I miss them, but they made stupid mistakes, and they both lost their heads for it.


It’s a very good advice so Jon should consider to follow it, like Lord Tywin said:

A wise king knows what he knows and what he doesn’t… ( he) listens to his counselors and heeds their advice.

That said since Sansa was right too questioning him in front of others was not this big betrayal that haters started again to call her bit*h.

I even understand why she did it:

he is King but she is the Lady of Winterfell and as such if Lord Glover and Lord Royce could disagree with him so can she.

And it’s not like they could have left the hall to discuss the matter in private, if Sansa wanted to speak her mind she needed to do it in the Great Hall like the others Lords at that time.

...but no man could truly tame a wolf.

Serena saw their hungry eyes. Her father was not dead a week and already they stalked Winterfell like it was their prey. Even now, at the feast for their father’s wake, they eyed her and Sansa both. She did not trust them– she would never trust them. Her half-uncles were vultures, bloody beaks already tearing into father’s corpse.

Keep reading

Potential Spoilers Season 8 part 2

Things get very interesting in this supposed leaked. As I said in my last post. I don’t know if any of this is true. But God I do wish this is true. If our babies are having a baby I would be completely done. 

Scene 1

The first scene will take place in the Great Hall of Winterfell. Jon, Daenerys, Tyrion, Davos and Sansa are present here. Gendry and Tormund tell the rest that the Wall has fallen and the Night Watch destroyed. Tormund also mentions that the Night King rides an undead dragon and that they are severely fucked. Bran Stark confirms Gendry and Tormund’s story and tells that the Night King is on his way to Winterfell. Jon Snow tells the rest that they have no time to lose and asks Maester Wolkan to inform all of their banners, everyone in the North, to prepare themselves for a war against the Army of the Dead. They need to prepare for an attack at the battlefield of Winterfell.

Scene 2

After having to process a lot of new information and struggling with his identity, Jon Snow goes to the crypts to visit his mother, Lyanna and his uncle, Ned Stark. Daenerys notices that there’s something wrong with Jon and finds him in the crypts. She asks Jon what’s wrong with him. Jon tells her that he even isn’t called Jon Snow. He calls ‘Jon Snow’ a lie people have made him believe all of life. Daenerys is confused and asks Jon for clarification but Jon walks away from her. Daenerys notices that Jon behaves aloof toward her.

Daenerys walks out of the crypts, which Jorah Mormont notices. He asks her what happened down them in the crypts but Daenerys answers that she doesn’t know what’s up with Jon. She tells Jorah that Jon is hiding something from her. Jorah also tells Daenerys that it striked him that Daenerys has been so absent for days. She answers that she’s not feeling very well lately. Jorah proposes to have her examined by Maester Wolkan.

Scene 3

Qyburn enters Cersei’s chambers. He mentions that she hasn’t spoken about her miscarriage anymore and that she needs to take enough time to rest. Cersei answers that there’s no time for that and doesn’t want to say more about the miscarriage. Qyburn leaves her chambers, Cersei watches from her window, witnessing how the snow falls in King’s Landing.

Scene 4

The next shot is Jaime, riding his horse in snowy conditions. He and Bronn arrive in Riverrun, both discover that the Tullys are once again laying siege to Riverrun. Jaime enters the stage and meets up with Edmure. Edmure tells Jaime he should have him in chains, but Jaime responds that he doesn’t come to argue about the damned castle. He proposes Edmure to help his niece and nephew in the Great War against the Night King. He also promises to give Edmure Riverrun back to the Tullys, since it doesn’t matter any longer who’s holding the castle at this point. Edmure tends to agree, not for Jaime but for his family.

Game of Thrones Season 8 Episode 2 Leak (Script)

Scene 5

Most of House Stark’s bannermen and Daenerys’s army have now arrived in Winterfell. Among them is Howland Reed. He arrived with his army and Meera Reed by his side. Arya receives a visitor in Winterfell. He seems to be an ordinary bannerman from House Cerwyn, but he quickly removes his face. It seems to be Jaqen H’ghar. Arya is surprised to have Jaqen visiting her. Jaqen tells Arya the Many-Faced God requires another death, a name to be crossed off her list. He reveals it to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Cersei Lannister. A price was paid. What better servant of the Many-Faced God than Arya Stark can kill Cersei Lannister. He gives a vial of poison to Arya and leaves her.

Scene 6

Jon Snow seizes the moment to talk with Howland Reed alone. He asks Howland to confirm Bran’s story, but Howland doesn’t acknowledge this at all. Jon Snow pleads him to tell the truth since Robert Baratheon isn’t alive any longer, there’s no point in lying anymore. Howland ultimately confirms that Ned was carrying Lyanna’s child when he came out of the Tower of Joy. He always promised him to keep this a secret. Jon thanks him for telling the truth anyway.

Scene 7

Knowing that the Army of the Undead will be upon them very soon, Tyrion, Jon, Sansa, Arya, Brienne, Podrick, Davos, Tormund, Gendry, Varys, Jorah, Theon, The Hound, Grey Worm and Sam discuss together with the Stark bannermen and Daenerys’s army how they will defend the North. Allegedly the Last Hearth has already been attacked by the White Walkers and their castle destroyed. Ned Umber didn’t make it out alive. Tyrion speaks for Daenerys, who’s absent due to illness. He comes forward with a plan to defend the North. Tormund, the remaining Free Folk, the Dothraki, the Unsullied will attack with dragonglass from the Dreadfort since that’s where they are heading to first. On their way to Winterfell, the dragons will set the army of the Dead afire and House Stark’s bannermen and the Knights of the Vale will fight weakened forces at the battlefield of Winterfell and hopefully destroy the Night King as well. Jon wants Brienne and Podrick to take Sansa, Arya and Bran with them and to leave with Robin Arryn to the Eyrie. Arya doesn’t want to and claims that she’s stronger than most men. They need her in the war to come. Jon insists that he doesn’t want that. Jorah also wants to fight alongside House Mormont but Lyanna reminds him that he has betrayed his own House. Varys mentions that he has also received word from King’s Landing. Supposedly, Queen Cersei has bought a great army of sellswords and Euron Greyjoy has taken Storm’s End to install the army there. Theon pleads to have Storm’s End attacked and Gendry agrees since it’s the seat of his father’s house. Jon promises Theon that he will help to destroy Euron and save his sister after they have dealt with the Night King and his army. There’s no time for that now since all of their lives are in danger and they have no choice than to face the Night King and his army. He needs his help and that of the Iron Islanders as well during the battle at Winterfell. A disappointed Theon accepts his proposal.

Scene 8

Missandei visits Daenerys in her chambers. Daenerys tells Missandei that Maester Wolkan examined her and that he confirmed that she’s pregnant. Missandei asks why she isn’t happy then. Daenerys feels that Jon has changed towards her and she doesn’t understand why.

Game of Thrones Season 8 Episode 2 Leak (Script)

Scene 9

The Free Folk, the Dothraki, the Unsullied prepare to leave Winterfell. Jon asks Daenerys why she didn’t attend this important gathering, but Daenerys doesn’t reply to that as well. Meera goes to say goodbye to Bran in the Godswood in Winterfell when Bran starts to behave very strangely. He pleads Meera to warn them since the Night King’s army is here. Jon is going to say goodbye to Sansa when Meera runs to warn the others. A huge winter storm starts to come closer to Winterfell. Chaos erupts.

Scene 10

The North and Daenerys’s army gather outside to face the Night King’s army. Jon orders Sansa, Arya and Daenerys to stay inside Winterfell. They are too valuable to lose and promises them that Winterfell will not fall. Varys, Tyrion, Robin, Samwell, Gilly, Lyanna and Missandei also remain inside Winterfell. Arya first doesn’t want to but obeys Jon’s wish. Sansa asks Meera to get Bran inside asap. A huge flock of wights invade the battlefield of Winterfell. Dothraki face the Army of the Dead first and many of them are taken out quite easily. Lots of White Walkers keep coming. Ghost fights with Jon and saves him at one point from a White Walker trying to kill him. Ghost is killed off trying to save Jon. Inside Winterfell, Daenerys is frustrated that she’s not able to help and that she should fly Drogon to destroy the undead. Missandei answers that it’s not wise to join the fight while she’s pregnant. Sam tries to console Gilly and Little Sam. The news surprises Sansa, Tyrion and Varys. Drogon comes in between and takes out a big chunk of the Night King’s army but also kills some of the Northern bannermen in the process. The White Walkers also enters the stage with the Night King flying Undead Viserion above them. Viserion starts to destroy the Northern’s army as well. Lord Glover and Howland Reed die, and are killed by dragonfire. Tormund leads the Free Folk and fights but is killed by Drogon’s fire. Drogon also manages to kill an undead giant. Meera wants Bran to leave the Godswood but he tells her he has help and Jon and co. Bran is trying to control Rhaegal with his mind. Meera warns Bran that is too dangerous and that he should stay inside. Jon and Daenerys’s army is diminishing greatly since the White Walkers keep coming. White Walkers try to invade Winterfell. Grey Worm faces two White Walkers and is able to take out one of them with his spear made from Dragonglass. The other White Walker kills him. The White Walkers supposedly try to invade Winterfell to take down Bran. Brienne guards the castle together with Podrick, Jorah and Gendry.  White Walkers start to invade there as well. Podrick is killed off by a group of Wights, which makes Brienne go psycho and takes out one of the White Walkers as well with Oathkeeper. Meera is urging Bran to give up and get inside but Bran doesn’t want to. He wants Meera to leave instead and get safe inside the castle. Meera answers that she will stay together with him until the end. Jaime Lannister and the Tully forces come to the North’s aid right in time. Bran is managing to warg inside Rhaegal and the dragon starts to fight undead Viserion, trying to bite him right in the neck but gets gravely injured during the fight as well. Rhaegal starts to breathe fire on Viserion, which seems to make the Night King start leaving the battlefield on injured Viserion’s back.

Scene 11

Meera realizes that this is the end for them. White Walkers are coming for Bran and she gets killed off by the White Walkers while defending Bran’s body. Viserion and Rhaegal keep fighting each other and both start to be seriously injured. It seems like dragonfire can harm the Night King. The White Walkers stab Bran to death, which makes Rhaegal fall to the ground and to be stabbed to death by Wights. The Night King’s army of Undead is starting to diminish. We see Jaime commanding his men and fighting the remaining Undead alongside Bronn. Jon fights alongside the Hound and Davos. The Hound is fighting like a boss right here. When Jon starts to notice that the Night King’s army is retreating as well he commands everybody to leave the battlefield asap and goes with Davos and the Hound to get everyone safely outside now. The Knights of the Vale, Sansa, Brienne and Robin leave together to the Eyrie. Arya, The Hound, Jaime Lannister, Bronn, Edmure Tully, Tully and Lannister forces retreat to Riverrun. Jon, Davos, Tyrion, Varys, Missandei, Jorah, Samwell, Gilly, Little Sam, Theon, the remaining Unsullied and Dothraki forces travel south. Lyanna Mormont and her men retreat to Bear Island.

Scene 12

The last shot we see is Jon and Daenerys on Drogon’s back setting all the dead afire including dead Rhaegal. Both sides suffered great losses in this fight.

Deaths: Grey Worm, Tormund, Podrick, Meera, Bran, Rhaegal, Robett Glover, Howland Reed

havenothingtodowithme  asked:

Hey! First of all, I love your blog 💖 and are you still doing blitzstone hc? Could I ask for some wedding cerimony headcanons? Or just cute hc in general! Thanks so much 💖

Sorry this took so long, I had a lot to say! I loved writing these!! To anyone else who may have sent me requests, they’re coming

- it’s a few years after preventing Ragnarok for the last time
-hearth & blitz are around 24 maybe?
-they’ve been dating ever since a little before the last possible-Ragnarok when they ended up having a pre-battle, heat-of-the-moment, I-don’t-want-to-lose-you-without-telling-you-how-I-feel Kiss
-but anyway, Blitzen’s best is thriving & Hearth’s magic is way better than it used to be & everything is good and pure
- Blitz proposes like this: on the anniversary of the day Blitz found Hearth in Nidavellir, they go out for dinner in a fancy restaurant, and then (after sundown) take a walk in a park they used to stay in while they were homeless.
-They end up at a quiet fountain w/ no one else around. The street lamps shine off the water & in Hearth’s eyes. It’s dark enough to be romantic & secluded but bright enough to sign easily.
-Taking a deep breath, Blitz gives a little speech (signing & speaking) about how much Hearth means to him & how he’s his everything. This information is nothing new, but Hearth is still completely in awe.
- By now he has the suspicion Blitz is planning something big, but he’s still completely overwhelmed when the tiny dwarf actually gets down on one knee. He doesn’t pull the ring out right away, bc he has to ask Hearth, will you marry me?
- And of course the answer is obvious, they’ve been living together for years now, they’re absolutely a package deal & there’s no way Hearth’s gonna say no. So he just nods and signs Yes really excitedly & pulls Blitzen up to kiss him & then Blitz pulls the ring box out of his jacket pocket and opens it.
- It’s silver & simple & elegant & it has perthro engraved on the band. Both their hands are shaking when Blitz slides it onto Hearth’s ring finger. They kiss again, laughing bc everything is falling perfectly into place. This is their dream come true.
- they get Blitz a ring too. It’s gold & has a wider band than Hearth’s with the same engraving of their family’s symbol
- they invite Magnus, Samirah, & Alex (who has become a part of their family too) over to tell them & the kids are beyond excited for their dads
- so for the actual ceremony, it’s pretty small- just the family, the Floor 19 Crew, Inge, and Freya (Blitz didn’t want to invite her, but Hearth convinced him. She’s your mother, Blitz. And she’s the goddess of love- it’s not like she doesn’t know we’re getting married! If we don’t invite her, we’ll never hear the end of it.)
- Halfborn performs the ceremony, bc he has definitely been ordained at some point in his 1200 year stay at Valhalla
- Magnus is their best man, Samirah is the maid of honor
-Alex is the ring bearer
- Blitz designed everyone’s outfits, obviously. He’s still salty about not designing the outfits for the fake wedding with Thrym tbh. He can’t say it, but he def wants to show up Sif
- and he does! Hearth wears a white suit + his scarf bc it’s 100% necessary. Blitz insisted he not wear black for once. Blitz’ pants & suit jacket are black but his vest is red to match the scarf. He’s wearing a bow tie too
- Magnus’ tux is gray w/ a white vest. His hair is grown back by now so it’s braided on one side to keep it out of his face during the ceremony
- Samirah’s dress is green again with silver lace & her hijab has silver threads in it for accent
- Amir’s tux is deep purple & he’s perfect and beautiful
- Alex is female & her dress is a very pale pink & her makeup is green. The dress stops around knee-length & is very twirlable. Magnus is dying
- jack is here & he insisted upon having a bow tie tied around his hilt
- Blitzen threatened to throw a fit if Halfborn showed up half-dressed like always, so the beserker relented. His suit is dark brown & his beard is braided neatly
- Mallory’s dress is a lighter green than Sam’s and is sleeveless. Her crazy hair is tamed a bit & falls around her shoulders. Halfborn has to concentrate very hard on the task at hand
- TJ refused to wear anything besides his union jacket but he let Blitz fix it up a bit.
- Freya is literally gorgeous, as always. She’s wearing about forty pounds of jewelry & Blitz wonders which piece was responsible for his life until Hearth takes his hand and smiles at him
- Inge is a free hulder now & is pretty close w/ hearth & blitz. Her dress is light blue & her hair is in very elaborate braids. Blitz asked whether she wanted a hole for her tail in the dress & she decided yes. She wears her tail proudly nowadays & is very active among the movement to free the huldrefolk
- also I don’t think anyone invited him but oh look, there’s Odin! The weirdo shows up about two minutes before the ceremony starts and is like “how could I miss the wedding day of my greatest pupil??” And hearth is so green
- tbh I bet Thor & Sif show up too & by this point it’s like…. Any other gods planning on showing up last minute or can we get married already? This is the exact moment when their former boss the severed head appears right in the middle of the aisle & Amir nearly faints
- when Thor shows up Hearth is definitely like who the fuck invited him, that giant dumbass is going to ruin our wedding!! Thor’s just kind of like “Wow my good friend the elf is so happy to see me!!”
- there’s also a suspicious bird at the window… Utgard-Loki…. Is that you, you sneaky fuck
- Marvin & Otis are sitting in the very back of the room with the very strict instructions not to eat any furniture. Otis starts crying in the middle of the vows & chews off an armrest anyway
- after all mystery guests arrive, they can finally start.
- Blitz’ vows start out with him talking about finding hearth in Nidavellir & how important and life-changing their friendship was immediately. He tells hearth who absolutely incredible he is & how honored blitz is to be marrying him.
- hearth’s vows describe how he’d always thought he’d be an empty cup for his whole life, but he never knew that from the moment blitz found him he was being filled more & more everyday bc of their friendship, and how blitz was the first person hearth ever trusted and he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to have him for their whole lives
- they exchange rings & they’re both near tears
- Halfborn says “by the power vested in me by the world of Valhalla, I now pronounce you dwarf & elf. You may kiss the groom” and blitz grabs hearth’s scarf and yanks him down for the kiss & everything’s beautiful
- Magnus definitely cries. The kid’s dads are getting married, give him some slack
- Alex teases him, but her eyes were a little misty for a while there too
- they don’t really have a reception, but the very extended family (so basically the empty cups + floor 19, Amir, & Inge) go back to blitz & hearth’s apartment to celebrate
- blitz bridal-carries hearth over the threshold & it is the cutest thing ever
- one of the boys probably had a bouquet to throw. Sam catches it & she and Amir don’t stop blushing all night
- big tearful family hugs. Blitz, hearth, Sam, Magnus, & Alex having a giant family group hug while the kids are so happy for their parents
- Alex teases Samir & Gunderkeen about when they’re gonna tie the knot. Mallory & Samirah retaliate by bringing up Magnus & making Alex blush a lot
- Inge dancing with hearth & telling him how happy she is for him. She just loves him so much wow. I like to think by this point although she obviously still loves him, she’s gotten over him mostly & maybe has a cute elf gf that’s also active in the free-the-huldre scene.
- Inge dancing w/ blitz afterwards & giving him a stern “don’t you dare hurt that boy” speech but obviously he’s not gonna & they’ve all been friends now for years so by the end they’re just laughing
- blitz & hearth having the first dance as a married couple & just swaying and holding onto each other and at the end they kiss & it’s really slow and sweet and beautiful and I’m dead

This was. Really freaking long, hope you enjoy, xoxo your Local Blitzstone Dealer™

theold-drafee  asked:

Do you think Sansa was unreasonable in her stance re: the Northern families that sided with the Boltons? What was your takeon the Jon/Sansa conflict?

On content, I think show!Sansa’s clearly right. Giving Last Hearth and the Karhold to those who’ve proven their loyalty in the field (and preferably proven talent as well) is a good idea, from both a feudal politics standpoint and a practical in-case-of-zombies standpoint. Alys Karstark may be perfectly competent (her book self is certainly no pushover), but putting a kid as young as Ned Umber in charge of one of the first lines of defence after the Wall? That doesn’t strike me as a fantastic move even without the feudal issues in play.

Unfortunately, politics isn’t all policy, and we’ve got Stannis Baratheon to grind his teeth at that fact. There’s a significant component of presentation in play as well, and it’s here that show!Sansa falls down hard. She’s Jon’s sister. She’s sitting right next to him in the meeting, given the highest place of honour in that hall. That sends a message to everyone that Sansa is Jon’s closest, most trusted ally. Instead of backing him up, she picks a fight with him in front of everyone else. She’s not trying to persuade him, she’s trying to shoot him down, and making Jon’s flaws super visible. This is not the behaviour of a team player. It’s not the behaviour of someone who’s realised that she’s on a team in the first place.

(Side note: there’s a significant contextual difference between Lyanna Mormont speaking up in that meeting and Sansa speaking up. They’ve got vastly different roles, responsibilities, and dynamics with the people they’re speaking up against. It’s a tradeoff - Sansa can’t responsibly speak up against Jon in public, but in return she’s got a much greater ability to tell him he’s making bad decisions in private. Lyanna Mormont has only the public venue to tell Lord Glover to shove off and be listened to when she does.)

Sansa compounds her errors after the meeting. As Sansa had a good point about giving those castles to others, Jon had a good point about how her actions undermined him. He explicitly said she could criticise in private. Sansa, for whatever reason the writers contrived, refused to acknowledge the distinction and leapt straight to the Joffrey comparison. Then she insults their late father and late brother for no particularly good reason. Show!Sansa might have the best advice in the world, but she’s packaging it very badly.

Which leads me back to what I think of this conflict in general. It’s so contrived. It’s been contrived since Sansa started lying about the Knights of the Vale back in season six. There is no good dramatic reason these characters haven’t communicated with each other. Their failure to do so much as discuss “hey, who are we arguing should get Winterfell after we beat Ramsay?” paints both as incompetent. Instead, they’re not talking so that the writers can write a conflict about people not talking.

chocolatewitchharmony  asked:

What do you think about the theory that Dany is not the real Daenerys Targaryen but someone else's child raised to be passed off as her? I found this great essay discussing the many possibilities of what was actually going on with Rheagar, Lyanna and Ashara. Could Rheagar have fathered Jon and Dany with both woman? What do you think about the whole R+L+A=J+D thing? The Page is called The last hearth fake Dany.

Nah. Logistics, first of all: there’s no sign of a Rhaegar liaison with Ashara, no reason for him to have a prophetic fixation on her (as opposed to Lyanna, who fit Rhaegar’s “song of ice and fire” framework perfectly), no indication in Ned’s POV, no hints dropped in Dany’s POV, we know Rhaella was pregnant, there were tons of witnesses at Dragonstone, I don’t buy that the motives of anyone involved would lead to this scenario…I could keep going.

Equally as important, though: there’s no reason for this, dramatically speaking. Unlike Jon, there’s no sign as far as I can tell that Dany’s heritage is even supposed to be a mystery. There are no questions that need answering here, no clue from GRRM that the presented story of her conception and birth shouldn’t be trusted, and nothing really to be gained from the revelation in terms of her arc or the larger story. It raises too many questions, and answers none.

So Darkness I Became - Stark!reader x Tormund

a/n: I wrote this with a different motive entirely but it completely morphed into its own thing. There’s porn with plot and sort of a dark overtone. It could very well develop into a loose series, so if you’re interested in that, let me know.

Rating: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, NSFW!

Word Count: 5241

Part Two // part three // part four // part five

Your name: submit What is this?

You sat in waiting outside of Jon’s ‘small council’ chambers—really, just another empty room in an empty castle at the end of the world, and the world was ending, by the way your brother spoke. When he’d told you, after your rescue, of what was coming, your childish disbelief soon bled into existential crisis. If it was all over soon, if everything didn’t go perfectly, and it wouldn’t, no matter how you loved and supported him, then nothing mattered anymore. Nothing. Not Winterfell, not Last Hearth, nothing that had happened to you, nothing you had seen, nothing you had done, none of the treachery, nothing. Just nothing.

 
The walls were still heated through the hot springs, just as when you were a girl, though it felt almost unfamiliar now, making your seat on the worn stone alcove not uncomfortable. Through the window, you gazed out at the endless, starry night; the men’s voices sounded grim and grave as ever. As heavy footsteps approached the heavy door, you eased back against the wall again and watched the forms as they emptied the room and filed away to go drink or fuck away their troubles. You didn’t wait for Jon, this time, though.

“Tormund,” you whispered as the free man emerged. He turned and spotted you instantly, but you held your finger to your lips. When he gave you a slight nod of understanding, you tilted your head to the side in a silent beckoning to follow. You were light on your feet, and unsure at first if he would follow indeed, for even in the large stone halls of Winterfell, he was excellent at remaining stealthy and quiet as possible. You stopped at the very end of the corridor, before the turn, and, through the shadows, you could see his wild hair, see his hand on the hilt of his closest blade. It almost made you smile. Unlike so many men you had come to know since your father left Winterfell, he was a stranger, but still willing to offer you protection, without question. It was seeing this the week before, when Jon properly introduced you to his trusted friend and fellow warrior, curtseying before the wildling, that you knew not to be afraid.

You watched him come closer, and wished that you could feel more than self-pity and gratitude. You turned then and continued, grabbing a lit candle along the way.


“Y/N,” you heard him call, but you weren’t ready for words just yet.


Your old bedchambers had been scrubbed clean with white vinegar and warm water. All of the furniture had been replaced. Food and drink set upon your table. A roaring fire cast warmth and light upon you where you stood, a smile you couldn’t feel on your lips, hands folded before you, greeting your guest with a silent nod.


Tormund looked around uncertainly before stepping inside, even more uncertainly when you walked around to close and latch the door behind him. “What’s the trouble? Y/N?”


“There’s no trouble, actually. I’m very sorry if I gave you fright, I just didn’t want to be disturbed by anyone else and didn’t want Jon trying to step in between us again.” You crossed the room to the spread on the table, lowered yourself into a chair like Old Nan had taught you, and motioned for him to join. “I know the hour is quite late, and I’m sure there is much on your mind and much weighing on you, but, please, do indulge me this once and speak with me. I’ve even got that disgusting, rotten milk you drink.”


That grin, his signature grin, lightened his face immediately and he was even more handsome. “Means there’s more for me. You can keep all that grape-piss water to youself, m’lady.”


A genuine chuckle trickled past your lips. “I was under the impression your people didn’t recognise nobility and titles.”


“We don’t,” he was quick to agree, pouring himself a cup that made your nose wrinkle. “I respect Jon. Respect you. I’d expect the same in my own home, his respect, your respect.”


“That is a very honourable attitude to have, Tormund, but you can just call me Y/N.” You raised your wineglass.


“What are we roasting? Toasting,” he corrected himself.


You felt your eyes soften for the first time in so long. “You killed my husband.”


He watched you carefully, eyebrows raising slowly upward. Probably figuring out what to say. What was one supposed to say to such a thing? Tormund finally leaned down a bit over his elbow on the table, cocked his head to the side. “I thought I might apologise, even if I’m not sorry, but you don’t look the least bit angry or sad, lass.”


In spite of yourself, tears shone in your eyes, and slowly you shook your head. “I’ll never pretend, never, to have known the cruelty that my sweet Sansa was dealt, from watching our f-father…murdered, to that cunt Joffrey, to Ramsay…But you rid the world of Smalljon. I wasn’t there, of course, but I heard it was you that slayed him in battle.”


“Aye,” he said after a short pause. “He betrayed your family—”


“He took my last little brother to that monster, the whoreson. Osha, a free woman who I was proud to call my friend, managed to get me, Rickon, Shaggydog, and Rose to Last Hearth after we escaped Winterfell. Do you know what waited for us there?” you asked. Tormund shook his head and refilled his cup. “Kindness. A warm reception. Meat for our direwolves, food for our bellies, room for us, hope for us.” Now you emptied your glass, then slammed it on the table. 


“Y/N,” Tormund said softly.


“I’ve no desire to trouble you. I don’t even know why I’m telling you. This isn’t your problem.” You went to stand, shaking your head at your own foolishness, but a large, warm palm closed around your arm and gently pulled you back down.


“I was just going to say, it’s hot as fuck in this room, and I’m going to take this off. There’s more underneath, though.” He smiled wide at you again, pulling some furs off his shoulders and piling them on the floor. “There’s always more. Didn’t want to alarm you. You tell what you want to tell, and I’ll tell you what you want to hear when you’re done. Already know.”


“Thank you,” you whispered, staring rather impolitely. The shirt he wore underneath was spun in a way that was strange to you, and you’d never seen him without so much bulky covering before. Old Nan would have slapped you on the back of your hand. “We were there a long time, you know. And we knew the Greatjon and Smalljon. Had our entire lives. Even Osha trusted Smalljon. Time passed on, and things happened. Robb was killed, along with half my family in that one night. Things became…anxious. Then…” You sighed. “You knew of Smalljon, didn’t you? You know Last Hearth.”


“If you’re asking me that, you know that I do.”


“Yes. Last Hearth is where the wildlings hit first. There were always wildlings attacking Last Hearth and fighting Umbers, and the Umbers loved to kill wildlings—I mean you no offense, truly, Tormund—but when Jon gave you and your people safe passage through the gates of Castle Black, something snapped in Smalljon’s mind. His easy smiles turned into long, angry looks. He exploded into fits of rage and one night, he had my maid fetch me and told me he would give me and my family over to the Boltons unless I married him and took the name Umber, so I’d never be able to call my sons Starks.


“I was too frightened to refuse. I should’ve insisted he just send me, so I could at least have been there with Sansa, but I knew from the coldness in his eyes that he’d never spare my little brother or Osha. She was a tough bitch, through and through, but she had no chance against all of them. So I did it, and Smalljon became my husband and Umber became my name, and I had to let him do whatever he wanted and, in the end, he took them both away from me. He slaughtered Shaggydog right before our eyes—Rickon named him when he was just a small boy, and it may have been a ridiculous name, but a direwolf, such a strong, majestic creature! The sigil of my true name, my rightful house, the one he and his family have been sworn to for centuries, and the son of a whore tore Rickon from my arms and went off to Winterfell to trade him for Bolton soldiers to ‘kill those fucking wildlings’. I’ve never felt so fucking helpless in my life. My brothers, gone or dead, my sisters, gone or dead, my parents, dead, the Blackfish, dead. The Umbers never break an oath. Oh, he never loved me—his wife died and he wanted more sons and he didn’t want ‘that cunt’ bastard Ramsay to ruin me after he was done with my sister, little Sansa. She was still so little when I’d last seen her. He had no loyalty to anyone and he had no honour.”


You stood suddenly, pacing down the length of your new rug with the wine flagon in your hands. “I’ll never do it again, Tormund. I’ll never touch another man I don’t want and I’ll never be forced to marry again—Jon swore he would never marry me or Sansa to anyone not of our choosing.”


“If the boy ever tries, I’ll cut off his pecker myself,” Tormund said joylessly. You looked at him and nearly laughed. He was such a big man, he was nearly as tall as you were while still seated. “I mean it. I know just where to throw it, too.”


You stood nodding absently for a moment, then took a deep drink from your flagon and continued to pace. “I am a fucking Stark.”


“There’s no doubting that, lass. You were never no Umber. They’re all cunts.”


You spun, facing him again, and pointed in his direction, swaying gently. A rush of blood heated your face. “You killed him. You tore his throat out with your teeth.”


Tormund stood and took away the wine, then held you steady by your arms. “Come sit and I’ll tell you all about it.”


“I can handle my wine, I’m a Stark.” You grabbed his arms in turn after he’d seated you back in your chair. Gripping his homespun shirt, you drew him nearer and looked into his eyes. “You killed him. You felt the life leave him.”


He sank down to his knees in front of you—definitely not a kneel, more a matter of stability—and nodded. “I did tear his throat out with my own teeth. I spit out his flesh right in his face. I watched the life leave his eyes, watched the blood gush out his neck.”


Now your hands moved to his shoulders. “What did it feel like?”


Laughter shook him, and he placed his hands on the arms of your chair to keep from falling over. His eyes held surprise, but a bit of a glow, too. “You’re a real Northern woman, aren’t you?”


You sank somewhat and shook your heavy head. “No, I’m not. I dreamed of killing Smalljon. I’d stay up all night when he passed out in my bed, unable to get any sleep as long as he was there, and think of all the different ways I could kill him just while he slept. Slit his throat, cut out his eyes, shove his own sword straight up his ass—”


“You are a real Northern woman.”


“I was too weak. Too scared.”


Tormund shook his head. “Not for yourself, lass. For the boy, and for a wildling. That’s honour. Protecting your family, doing what you did to keep a woman you’d grown up believing a less-than-human savage from being killed. That’s honour. That’s courage.”


“They’re dead,” you cried, eyes shining again. It was the most you’d let yourself feel since locking yourself up again after seeing Sansa safe, and it was horrible. Horrible and humiliating. 


“Do you want me to tell you that it isn’t your fault?” He grew serious all of a sudden, stern almost, sombre, even. 


You froze in your seat. 


“The road I’ve walked on all my life is slick with the blood of my friends and my enemies. Even my son,” Tormund continued. “You feel like you failed, but even though their blood is in your footpath, you didn’t put it there. You didn’t kill them and you don’t want me to coddle you and tell you it’s all sunshine and farts, ‘cause you know it isn’t. You wanted me to hear how much you hated Smallcock Umber so I wouldn’t be shocked that you wanted to know the bloody details, to know what it felt like to watch him die. I’d do it all again if I could. I’ve seen you walk around with no light in your eyes long enough to wish I could’ve made him die slow, and now that I know the bloody details, I wish I could’ve made it last days, weeks. I wish I could’ve given him to you. I would’ve, if I’d known, but I didn’t. You’re angry with me, is that it? Angry it wasn’t you.”


You leaned forward and touched his face. “No. You’ve been saving my brother’s ass, fighting battles that weren’t yours, and you didn’t mean to and you didn’t know, but you’re the one who really saved me. Smalljon was a large and frightening man and he’s survived every battle he fought with Robb and more. It was no small thing to kill him. It took a huge fucker with big balls and you are that huge fucker with big balls.” Now you did sniffle, a hot trail of shame down your face. “I just knew he was going to come back, alive, and my Jon would be killed, and Ramsay would find Sansa and do even more unspeakable things to her, and I would still be Lady Umber, fucked like an animal and living in guilt and regrets. I know he would’ve come back, if it weren’t for you. He would’ve been able to. You stopped him and you gave him a death befitting a traitor.”


Tormund mopped your cheek absently with his sleeve. “Truth be told, I was glad to cut him down. Now I’m giggled shitless.”


“I’m sorry for this.” You managed a smile. “I asked you here and I’m acting like a fool. Drink the rest of that rotten milk. Don’t make me be the only one drunk. How does that even work?”


“Better than that rotten grape juice, I promise. I’ll teach you all about being a Northerner, a real Northerner, starting with sour goat’s milk and how to string a bow. If anyone ever tries to treat you like Smallcock again, you can shoot him straight through the balls.” He got back into his chair now, and lifted his brow as he took another drink. “You sure as shit don’t talk like a lady.”


“Sansa’s the lady. Arya’s the little savage murder child. I’ve never been anything special like either of them. Never destined to be a queen, or, seven hells, a real-life assassin.” Peals of real laughter coming from your own lips surprised you, but it felt so good. “I think Father wanted me to marry in the North and give him lots of grandsons. He only ever wanted me to be happy. That’s all he wanted for any of us. Have you ever seen me and Sansa, side by side? She got Father’s height and Mother’s beauty and I got the reverse! Ah, the sweet girl.”


“You grew up brave and strong, lass. Don’t tell yourself different, that would be the foolish thing.”


“Wow.” You smiled into your wine. “That’s a great compliment coming from a free man. Thank you, Tormund. Proper thanks. For all the shit.”


“For saving your brother’s ass, killing your husband…” He cut himself off with that great, raucous laugh of his.


“Will you really show me how to use a bow? Mother was more strict with me than with Arya.”


“Yeah…” His eyes grew somewhat unfocused. “Your brother had a free woman. Ygritte. Short as you, stubborn as you, good like you. She could shoot the wings off a bee. You will, someday.”


“Someday I’ll dress myself head to toe in furs and live beyond the Wall, free as an eagle, and shoot the wings off of bees for you to eat them.”


Tormund eyed you strangely.


“I mean no offence. I’m actually quite serious. But it doesn’t matter much what I want to happen years from now, does it?” The wine was nearly gone.


“We fight,” Tormund said forcefully.


“You’ll fight longer than all of us, Giantsbane, but it’s likely we’ll all be dead in a year. I’ve thought a lot about this. Seven hells, I haven’t been able to keep impending doom out of my mind since being reunited with Jon.” You rolled your spine and stood, the drink making your limbs a bit heavier. “Not because you aren’t strong and brave, not because of anything other than them wanting us dead. And that means I’ve got a year, perhaps more, perhaps less, to make my life both meaningful and somewhat satisfactory.” Tormund’s lips parted as you sat down in his lap, one arm draped across his shoulder. Oh, this alone brought the fire within you again. “I don’t know where we’ll be or what will happen, but I don’t want to die without ever being properly fucked.”


You never thought you’d see Tormund speechless, and you certainly wouldn’t now. “And who have you been talking to about proper fucking?”


“I’ve never even let on that Smalljon ever bedded me to anyone else, let alone spoke of proper fucking, but the world will either end or it won’t, and I’ve always wanted to. I used to think about men ceaselessly. There was a man who was house guard for the Starks, Jory, and from the time I was fourteen, I wanted him to fuck me against the stone walls.” You said the words with your forehead on his shoulder so that Tormund couldn’t see your heated blush. You said it soft, low, aloud for the first time. You felt him breathe in sharply and hold that breath in his chest. It brought a crooked smile to your lips, and you turned your head incrementally to touch them to his warm neck, felt the muscle there jump. “You free men know that women want it, no matter who they are, lady or peasant, it makes no difference. And you, Tormund…” Ever slightly, you nuzzled his pinpricked flesh. “I had to swear that I was his and he was mine until my last day, and I can think of no one better to break that vow with.”


He pulled you closer, tighter, forward to face him, all while releasing a low, rumbling growl. His face was more pink than usual, and he was staring across the room at the fire. Before you could kiss him, he squeezed your thigh. “I’m dying now just from the smell of your hair, but I can’t add to your list of regrets, lass.”


“No one has to know. It’s just for me and you, and then you don’t ever have to speak to me again.”


“And what if that isn’t how I want for it to be? What if I’ve wanted you, too, and what if I’m a jealous fucker that won’t want to see you breaking your vows with another man?”


“Then you’ll fuck me as long as you wish until the Long Night takes us all.”


With another growl, he started tugging and pulling gently at your dress, growing louder with his frustration. “I don’t understand these fancy little silk dresses you folk wear. How does it come off? I don’t want to…” He looked confounded. “You are beautiful, in this ridiculous dress. Help me before I ruin it.”


A touch of enchantment softened your eyes to him. “You’ve weakened my knees. Help me to stand before I fall.”


“Lass, it was all the drink that weakened your knees.” When he stood, he held you steady.


You reached inside the front of your dress to open it to his eyes. For all your brash and crude talk, there still had only been one man to look on your body before, and Smalljon was hardly satisfied in seeing it. Tormund’s eyes followed the movements of your hands and the slow opening of your bodice. “You think I’m beautiful?”


Tormund scoffed as he tried to tug his shirt over his head. “You think I’m blind?”


Your eyes were instantly drawn to healing wounds, scars both old and new, some mere lines, some discoloured and raised. You pointed to one such healing wound in particular, red and almost scarified. “That was him, wasn’t it?”


He looked at it, then nodded. “Could have been.”


Without thought, you hugged him, enjoying the feel of his height towering over yours and his chest against your exposed breasts. “How about…” You kissed an old scar. “You fuck me as many times as you’ve killed?”


Tormund grabbed you by the hair and pulled, exposing your ear and neck to him. An involuntary shiver rippled across your body just when his beard touched your sensitive skin. You were rapt, waiting, wanting. “Y/N, that’d equal up to a lifetime of fucking.”

 You tried to move just a touch, but he held you still and bit down below your ear, this time drawing noise from you. 


“There’s men who can fuck the same woman their whole lives and never learn what it takes to make her wild and weak.” He encouraged your hands to hold onto him and walked you backward to your bed with its polished posts and fresh coverings. “That husband of yours never would’ve figured out what I just did in ten seconds.”


You gasped, spun again towards the furs covering your bed. He braced his arm around your middle and pushed you down, but it was thrilling, not terrifying as when Smalljon did it. You giggled softly as he touched you, using nothing more than the barest trace of his roughened fingers up and down your spine to waken every pleasured nerve in your body. He made you twist and arch and mewl, just with his fingers, and when he chuckled so low to himself, your thighs squeezed together. 


Pulling you up to your knees with the arm still braced around you, Tormund yanked you against his chest and started using his lips instead of his fingertips, the coarseness of his beard sending sparks shooting through you. It was more pleasure than you’d ever experienced in dreams or by your own hands, and you knew it was nothing, still. 


“I would look at you, Tormund,” you breathed uneasily, arching up toward his body before bending it like a bow again. His fingers moved to tease your belly with the same sort of gentle touches he’d given your back moments earlier, and you groaned. “Tormund—”


“Aye,” he said, hot in your ear, tearing a whole new ripple of pleasure through your body. “And you will, lass. I want to look in your eyes when I make you come.” He didn’t move you again for a while, though, but your sense of time was weakened, as was your will, your self-control, even your pride, but it was good. It was safe to lose those things, with Tormund. 


You willed yourself to relax your mind and mindlessly gripped your furs until what seemed like hours of electricity had passed and Tormund was rolling you onto your back. He was already grinning at the fog of pleasure in your eyes and the sly smirk on your face. You attempted to sit up on your elbows, but he simply pushed you back down into the furs. “What will you have me do, Tormund?”


“You need do nothing, Y/N.” He seemed to consider something for a moment, then kissed your lips the first time. “Just let me.”


“I don’t want you to have to do everything.”


He kissed you again, massaging your chest as he did so. “If I got any harder, I might grow worried. Have you ever felt yourself wet before?”


You winked at him, playful. “More times than I could count.”


For a moment, he seemed to falter. “Show me, and I’ll worship you like the old gods until I die.”


Snickering, you nodded and felt your skin flush. He backed away, standing before the bed, looking not like a wildling warrior, but a child opening a gift. His obvious arousal and fervent nods of approval made it easier than you would have guessed to trace your fingers through the slick petals between your legs. You moved them in circles and flicked them up and down, but before you had the chance to build up any genuine pressure, Tormund pried your knees further apart and yanked your body down to the foot of the bed. He touched you there now, gently pushing your hand out of the way, and you looked him in the eyes, smirking like a demon, as you curled your tongue against your fingers.


His mouth fell open. His breathing became rough, and he looked almost troubled, for a moment.


“Tormund?” You hooked your leg behind his back and pulled him toward you.

Without pause, he began to undress. “You said I could fuck you as much as I wished before the Long Night comes.”


You nodded, trying very hard not to look down. “Aye. I did.”


“I want to do more things to you than there are names for,” he growled. “But I can’t do them all now. I have to feel you inside now.”


You smiled up at the ceiling, genuine happiness and heat pooling in your belly. “You have until the end of it all. We’ll name them all.”


“For fuck’s sake, Y/N, all this talk and you won’t look at my cock?”


“It just feels impolite.”


He took your hand, and you gasped when he put it on himself. Your curious fingers wanted to feel, and closed around him, but you could look no further down than his eyes and chest. “I’m no longer a maiden.”


He gave a short nod. “Aye. But you’re no man’s wife.”


“That being said, is this going to…fit?”


Tormund smiled, a mix of warmth and amusement illuminated by the fire’s light. “I won’t hurt you. I couldn’t.”


“I know,” you whispered. Your hand slowly withdrew and eventually found his arm. “Show me.”


He was looking down, between you, and gave you a bit of a shock when he pushed two of his fingers inside. He moved them without ever looking away from his actions. “You’re lovely everywhere.”


“Wh—”


“I didn’t mean to surprise you. If a man doesn’t touch you to tell if you’re ready, kick him in the nuts and leave him.” 


When you felt him slot his member against you, you pressed your back flat against the furs. It was what you’d learned to do, to brace yourself. When Tormund pushed inside you, though, there was no pain, and it was achingly slow. He looked both lost and concentrated, and you wanted to get your hands on his body so badly. You were aware of the size of him but comfortable all the same; your inner walls contracted around him and he finally groaned, himself, leaning over you, kissing your skin. 


“Breathe,” he whispered, lips still caressing you, and you obeyed, never realising that you’d stopped at all. His hands went to control your hips, and his moved with finesse and fluidity, but his own breathing had become a stuttered pant. He wouldn’t take his eyes from yours. Tormund bit his lip and cursed. “How are you doing it?”


Your chest rose and fell with uneven rhythm. He’d done so much to you, you’d done so much to yourself, that reaching climax would be no marathon run. “I’m just…I can’t…”


“Don’t look away.” Tormund tilted your chin, then placed his hand on your cheek. “I want to see you. Y/N…”


A soft shout left you, and it took all your will not to close your eyes from the force of the beautiful waves cresting over and over inside of you. You clasped your hand over his and gazed back at him, stricken as he was awestruck. He growled deep and you moved quick to keep him from withdrawing.


“No, please,” you whispered hoarsely. “There’s moon tea.”


Tormund grasped your bed post so hard, so suddenly, you worried it might snap. He shouted again, slammed his hips into yours once more, and soon sank down above you. His sweat-beaded brow lay just below your collarbones, and you could feel his seed start to leave your body. 

Without thinking, really, but then not really minding, either, you wrapped your arm around his shoulders to keep him a while longer. You felt alive again, and not just living for those that loved you. It was a precious, precious feeling, and you wanted to hold onto it for as long as you could. In your arms was a wildling, a wild thing, the strongest and possibly kindest man you’d known all your years. “Tormund?”


He deep and guttural tones that emerged from his throat seemed an answer. 


“I would have you here every night that you’re in Winterfell,” you told him.


“Aye.” His voice was still somewhat distorted, deeper than usual. “I may never leave this shit-reeking place now.”


You laughed, rubbing your hand affectionately up and over his shoulder blades. “Are you well, dear Tormund?”


“You took it from the soul, woman.”


This time, you wisely laughed against your pillows. Enough noise had been made in your room this night, and it was better not to risk any more. 


He climbed off of you then and rolled onto his back beside you. “It wasn’t a joke. You may need to drink two cups o’ moon tea.”


“I’ll do what’s necessary,” you promised, finally drawing the sheets and furs up over you. You smiled at him warmly. “You can stay, if you like. The door is still locked, none will walk in to find you here. If you don’t feel like trudging off to your own bed.”


“I don’t feel like leaving you.” Tormund yanked you over to lay your head on his shoulder. “You’ve lost much. You needed a good lay, and someone to hear you. I need to stay.”


You nodded, but soon yawned, and a wave of fatigue washed over you anew. “Then you’ll stay. Goodnight, Tormund.”


“G’night, lass.”


Just before you fell asleep, you heard him call your name.


“Hm?” you grumbled.


“What’s your plan if you’re wrong about the world ending? What if the world doesn’t end and I still don’t want to leave yet?”


Tucking yourself in a little closer, you were asleep as soon as you shut your eyes.

Imagine...Robbie...

((I hope you all like it…and yes, it does kind of end on a cliff hanger… uhhh probably not my best Robbie one shot, but…I wanted to give you all something to read instead of having another day that I haven’t posted. I swear, my life will get less hectic soon haha))

Word Count: 2,110

Keep reading

The demon towered over her, a wall of flame and molten rock. Its voice was the hiss of water hitting boiling metal. “You think you can defeat me?”

Esk looked up at him. The first thing she realized was that no, she couldn’t.

The second thing was: that was the wrong question.

“I think if you fought against me, you’d win,” she said. Her voice was shaking a little. She didn’t try to mask her fear: it meant more, she thought, to be afraid and still stand here than it would to be fearless.

The flames rustled. If its face were human, Esk thinks she might have seen a hint of discomfort in them. “Then why, little human, aren’t you running?”

Look the devil in the eye, the tales all said, and Esk did. “Because of course you can beat me in a fight. But the question is, why should you? Why should you fight me at all?”

The demon held absolutely still. Even the flames didn’t flicker.


Esk’s heart beat furiously in her chest. “You were a creature of God, once.” Her sweat wasn’t only due to the heat. The demon could burn her, smash her, end her any of a thousand violent ways. “And you followed the devil down. But now, here you are. Who do you follow?”

“Are you suggesting that I follow you?” the demon said. It did not move.

“Yes,” Esk said. Past her chattering teeth, she forced the words, “Why not? Is my goal not worthwhile?”

After consideration, the demon said, “It is.” (Was it her imagination, or were its flames lowering?) “Are you a holy woman, to command me?”

Esk’s laugh was a broken thing. “Oh bless, no.” She thought of herself as a girl, still. Holy - wow, really not. “I’m just trying to find my brother. He’d tell you I’m nothing like holy.” It made her throat ache, to speak of her brother, to think of him. She swallowed her tears. She couldn’t afford to be distracted.

“And to do that,” the demon said, “you’ll face me, and not back down.” In the mess of flames, it was hard to tell which parts were the face, but it seemed to Esk that maybe those parts were tilting a little. “Look.”

Esk blinked smoke from her eyes. A swath of flame retreated, and behind it she could see a pile of rocks, ranging from fist-sized to the size of her head, rising as high as her waist. She removed one hesitantly, from the very top. “Go on,” the demon said.

She only removed a handful of rocks when she started feeling it, whatever it was at the bottom of the pile. It gave her strength, so that she could hurl the last few rocks away if she wanted to. She made the effort to set them aside gently.

It was a sword, at the bottom, only she could tell it wasn’t really. Her mind was telling her it was a sword, because it had no picture and no name for what it really was. It fit in her hand like a dream, which is more or less what it was.

“What is this?” she didn’t hide the naked awe in her voice, either.

“I cannot say the name,” the demon said. “It is powerful. And you can have it.”

Once Esk had seen fire sucked out through a hole in a wall, reaching out for air. What the demon did was like that, or perhaps like that in reverse: the flames curled up on themselves until the resulting form was no bigger than the largest rock of the pile.

“Demon?” Esk said, uncertain.

“You have a sword.” Its voice, now, was like the hiss of the last embers in the hearth. “Use it.”

She looked at the sword. She looked at the demon, curled up small at her feet. She awkwardly negotiated the blade so it wouldn’t be turned at the demon, or at her own body. She knelt to the demon: she could sit very close, now, and it was no hotter than sitting near an oven. “What will it do to you?”

“What do you think?” it asked. “As long as the demon guards this passage, you shall not pass. It is written. Do what you need to, and pass.”

Esk took a breath, and another. She rose to her feet, and held the sword the way she did before. She moved away from the demon, and brought the sword down on the largest rock in the pile that had covered the sword.

The sword didn’t cut it clean in half; it smashed the rock, like a mallet. By the third rock Esk smashed, it became a mallet, still light as a dream in her hands. (Of course, that’s what it was.)

“What in creation are you doing.” The demon’s voice was too small and weary to sound like a question.

“It has to be around here somewhere,” Esk explained. “The thing binding you to this pass. I’ll find it, and then you can do whatever you want. You said it was written; I’m going to erase it.”

The flames were moving again, agitated. “You can’t break a vow with a sword,” the demon said. “Or with a mallet.”

Esk raised up the mallet. “With this one? I think I can, actually.”

The flames grew, and grew. “What if there is no tether?” The demon asked, encircling her on all sides now. “What if nothing binds me here?”

Esk opened her hands. “Then what in creation are you doing here?” she put all her exasperation into her voice.

The flames trembled all around her, and rose into a mighty pillar, wailing.

Esk held the mallet above her hands. She felt whatever material it was made from - no metal nor wood nor stone - flow over her hands, down over her face and her body down to her feet. It was cool, even when she went forth and put her arms around the pillar of flame.

Fire has no body, but there was something solid in there. Hard as rock, at first, and then it melted into her hands.

“It’s okay,” Esk said, dazed. “It’s okay. You can come with me if you want.”

The flames encircled her again, but now the perimeter was wide enough to stride in and Esk could see over them to the other side of the pass. A gap opened in them like an invitation, flames shivering on its sides.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “I’m not leaving you here. I mean,” she hastily said, “you can stay if you want to. But I want you to come.” Under her breath, she muttered, “When my brother sees you, he’ll have a fit.”