lemoncloak

2

The Brotherhood without banners. King’s men, knights, and heroes … but some knights are dark and full of terror.

(top to bottom: Beric Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr, Tom Sevenstrings, Lem Lemoncloak, Edric Dayne, Anguy, Harwin, Gendy and Lady Stoneheart)

“You look different now. Like a proper little girl.”

“I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns.”

“Nice, though. A nice oak tree.” He stepped closer, and sniffed at her. “You even smell nice for a change.”

“You don’t. You stink.” Arya shoved him back against the anvil and made to run, but Gendry caught her arm. She stuck a foot between his legs and tripped him, but he yanked her down with him, and they rolled across the floor of the smithy. He was very strong, but she was quicker. Every time he tried to hold her still she wriggled free and punched him. Gendry only laughed at the blows, which made her mad. He finally caught both her wrists in one hand and started to tickle her with the other, so Arya slammed her knee between his legs, and wrenched free. Both of them were covered in dirt, and one sleeve was tom. on her stupid acorn dress. “I bet I don’t look so nice now,” she shouted.

Tom was singing when they returned to the hall.

My featherbed is deep and soft, and there I’ll lay you down,

I’ll dress you all in yellow silk, and on your head a crown.

For you shall be my lady love, and I shall be your lord.

I’ll always keep you warm and safe, and guard you with my sword.

Harwin took one look at them and burst out laughing, and Anguy smiled one of his stupid freckly smiles and said, “Are we certain this one is a highborn lady?” But Lem Lemoncloak gave Gendry a clout alongside the head. “You want to fight, fight with me! She’s a girl, and half your age! You keep your hands off o’ her, you hear me?”

“I started it” said Arya. “Gendry was just talking.”

“Leave the boy, Lem,” said Harwin. “Arya did start it, I have no doubt. She was much the same at Winterfell.”

Tom winked at her as he sang:

And how she smiled and how she laughed, the maiden of the tree.

She spun away and said to him, no featherbed for me.

I’ll wear a gown of golden leaves, and bind my hair with grass,

But you can be my forest love, and me your forest lass

anonymous asked:

The feather bed song, was that made for arya & gendry? or do people just put those two things together

Do you mean was the song written in universe for Arya and Gendry? Almost certainly not considering it was already being sung by Tom when Arya and Gendry returned to Acorn Hall.

To my knowledge, it’s not a song that ever comes up elsewhere, one of the multiple reasons why it is so strongly associated with Arya and Gendry’s relationship.

But the only scene it is in is this:

“You look different now. Like a proper little girl.”

“I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns.”

“Nice, though. A nice oak tree.” He stepped closer, and sniffed at her. “You even smell nice for a change.”

“You don’t. You stink.” Arya shoved him back against the anvil and made to run, but Gendry caught her arm. She stuck a foot between his legs and tripped him, but he yanked her down with him, and they rolled across the floor of the smithy. He was very strong, but she was quicker. Every time he tried to hold her still she wriggled free and punched him. Gendry only laughed at the blows, which made her mad. He finally caught both her wrists in one hand and started to tickle her with the other, so Arya slammed her knee between his legs, and wrenched free. Both of them were covered in dirt, and one sleeve was tom. on her stupid acorn dress. “I bet I don’t look so nice now,” she shouted.

Tom was singing when they returned to the hall.

My featherbed is deep and soft, and there I’ll lay you down,

I’ll dress you all in yellow silk, and on your head a crown.

For you shall be my lady love, and I shall be your lord.

I’ll always keep you warm and safe, and guard you with my sword.

Harwin took one look at them and burst out laughing, and Anguy smiled one of his stupid freckly smiles and said, “Are we certain this one is a highborn lady?” But Lem Lemoncloak gave Gendry a clout alongside the head. “You want to fight, fight with me! She’s a girl, and half your age! You keep your hands off o’ her, you hear me?”

“I started it” said Arya. “Gendry was just talking.”

“Leave the boy, Lem,” said Harwin. “Arya did start it, I have no doubt. She was much the same at Winterfell.”

Tom winked at her as he sang:

And how she smiled and how she laughed, the maiden of the tree.

She spun away and said to him, no featherbed for me.

I’ll wear a gown of golden leaves, and bind my hair with grass,

But you can be my forest love, and me your forest lass.Arya, ASoS

The moment preceding the introduction to the song is Arya and Gendry play wrestling and tickling, Gendry complimenting and sniffing her, ect. Probably the most overt case of romantic interaction between them.

And the song itself is framed by Arya and Gendry’s interactions. The first verse is sung right after the play wrestling, pauses while Lem tells Gendry to keep “his hands off of” Arya,  Arya defending Gendry, and everyone talking about Arya/Gendry wrestling, and the second verse is specifically sung to Arya right afterwards.

“Tom winked at [Arya] as he sang”. It was about and to Arya the way it’s written in the text, though I assume that Tom didn’t write it for them (or even at all, who knows though.) But GRRM definitely did.

Notably, the song only appears once, in Arya’s narrative, framing a big Arya/Gendry interaction, and is sung to Arya.

Some people (for reasons unfathomable to me unless they are either just really against any idea of romance in Arya’s arc or Arya/Gendry) suggest that the song is just about Arya and not Gendry. They say that it refers to Arya’s rejection of a highborn girl’s life. 

Any analysis of the song, however, proves that to be completely baseless. For starters, it frames a Gendry/Arya moment so distinctly despite the fact that Arya has multiple moments that are anti-typical highborn girl’s role with Tom (like not wanting to be dressed by Lady Smallwood earlier or being against being bathed and dressed by the women of the Peach,) so if that were it, the song would be placed there.

More importantly, and I’m not sure how anyone misses this but whatever, it’s a love song. The No Featherbed for Me song is about two people in love and how they make their relationship work to some extent. Two whole lines deal with marriage proposals of some kind:

From the lord (though arguably all his lines are marriage related):

For you shall be my lady love, and I shall be your lord.

And from the maiden:

But you can be my forest love, and me your forest lass

And of course, the maiden only says no to the idea of featherbeds and being a typical lord/lady couple. She very clearly still loves the lord. She’s smiling and laughing, not angry or defensive, and she wants to be with him.  

The song isn’t just about a girl who doesn’t need protection, doesn’t need silks and gold and lords, it’s a love song. It’s about a couple in love. If it wasn’t, then we’d probably either see the Maiden in the Tree irritated or angry with the Lord or the exclusion of the final line. It’s made clear that the lord loves the maiden and the maiden loves the lord even if they have different concepts of how they can show it.  

And this is so meaningful to Arya and Gendry for a few reasons.

One, it’s super obvious that Arya is the maiden of the tree. Besides Tom winking at her and singing to her for the maiden’s verse, Arya is at that moment covered in dirt (from her wrestling with Gendry,) is in a place called Acorn Hall, and is literally wearing a tree dress. I mean Arya even called herself a tree within a page with Gendry’s agreement:

“I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns.”

“Nice, though. A nice oak tree.”  

You actually can’t get any more blatant than that.

Two, GRRM literally wrote Arya and Gendry a love song. I think this one speaks for itself.

Three, the lord is also very clearly Gendry:

I’ll dress you all in yellow silk, and on your head a crown…

I’ll wear a gown of golden leaves

I wonder what the color yellow/gold in conjunction to a crown must mean… could never be the Baratheon family who rules Westeros (crown) and has the family colors gold/yellow and black. Gendry’s status as the eldest male son of Robert Bartheon is such an important part of his narrative.

But more importantly, Gendry’s class issues are so relevant here. He spends some time upset specifically about his and Arya’s class differences. Even the above except’s preceding lines has a moment like that:

“You can still make swords if you want,” said Arya. “You can make them for my brother Robb when we get to Riverrun.”

“Riverrun.” Gendry put the hammer down and looked at her. “You look different now. Like a proper little girl.” 

And not long after that:

“Why did you say that?” Arya hopped to her feet. “You’re not my brother.”
“That’s right,” he said angrily. “I’m too bloody lowborn to be kin to m’lady high.”
Arya was taken aback by the fury in his voice. “That’s not the way I meant it.”
“Yes it is.” He sat down on the bench, cradling a cup of wine between his hands.  

“Too bloody lowborn” is a huge theme in Gendry’s arc, especially in conjunction to Arya herself. So the idea of a maiden rejecting the highborn lord/lady love for a forest love/lass has significance for their (potential future) relationship.

Four, okay, seriously GRRM wrote a love song for them. Can’t stress this one enough.

So while the song itself in universe was not written for them (assumably, we know little of it,) GRRM wrote the song for/about Gendry and Arya.

That’s why the Arya and Gendry shippers put the song with them, GRRM did, Tom did, it’s not even subtle actually. 

anonymous asked:

Do you think that there's more to the plot of the Hound missing helm, could the Hound persona become something like the Princess Bride Pirate Roberts, could this be relevant for the Riverlands or BWOB / Jaime & Brienne.

Hiya! As always with The Princess Bride, it’s difficult to tell whether the hand-me-down role of “The Dread Pirate Roberts” is meant purely as a delightful genre spoof or as a deeper critique. On the one hand, the story is clearly poking fun at fantasy villains whose reputation precedes them, thus the deliberately non-pirate-y moniker “Roberts.” On the other, there’s something rather poignant about the previous Roberts granting the title to Wesley so that he could finally retire. Must there always be a Dread Pirate Roberts? Do fantasy stories just need someone like him, or the other way around: do violent people rely on such structuring tropes to normalize, familiarize, and even justify their behavior? (I’m thinking particularly of anchors and reporters who refused to take Somali pirates seriously because, in their minds, pirates are dashing storybook villains, not desperate plunderers responding to real-world economics and culture).

When it comes to the Hound’s helm, Lem would appear to be in the former camp, and Thoros the latter:

“It was Rorge I killed. He took the helm from Clegane’s grave, and you stole it off his corpse.”

“I didn’t hear him objecting.”

Thoros sucked in his breath in dismay. “Is this true? A dead man’s helm? Have we fallen that low?”

The big man scowled at him. “It’s good steel.”

“There is nothing good about that helm, nor the men who wore it,” said the red priest. “Sandor Clegane was a man in torment, and Rorge a beast in human skin.”

“I’m not them.”

“Then why show the world their face? Savage, snarling, twisted … is that who you would be, Lem?”

“The sight of it will make my foes afraid.”

“The sight of it makes me afraid.”

Here we have the eternal argument between self-as-innate (modernism) and self-as-performance (postmodernism). Is there an inviolate “you,” or is “you” just a role to be played, built on a complicated feedback loop between an individual and their environment?

Lem believes that there is an inherent Lem-ness to him that will prevent him from becoming a victim-turned-victimizer like Sandor or an outright monster like Rorge. As he sees it, wearing the helm has nothing to do with him; it’s all about its impact on others, namely fear. He seems unfazed by the fact that this fear will be based not on the specter of divine justice, as it was with Beric Dondarrion (returned from the grave again and again to fight for the smallfolk), but on the exact opposite: the reputation for pointless atrocities that helm earned at Saltpans. For Lem, “The Hound” is a useful tool more than a distinct identity; the ends justify the means.

For Thoros, by contrast, the helm is inextricable from “the men who wore it.” Sandor and Rorge weren’t just random dudes both in need of “good steel.” They affirmatively chose that “face,” albeit for very different reasons; that face made sense to them. Something inside them called out, and the Hound called back. Moreover, by wearing that mask, Lem has become inextricable from them in the eyes of the world, and one of the pillars of postmodern theory (and every undercover-cop story) is that you become what you perform. There is no core “Lem” that weathers all such storms. Lem is the role he plays, and he is now choosing to play a villain.

Thoros knows all this at a bone-deep level, because he saw the proof of it with Beric. The dashing young lord of Blackhaven, the one whom Jeyne Poole was ready to marry on the spot, bears no resemblance whatsoever to the guerilla scarecrow Arya and Gendry meet beneath the hollow hill. They are not the same person, as GRRM demonstrates in one of the most heart-rending passages in the series:

“Can I dwell on what I scarce remember? I held a castle on the Marches once, and there was a woman I was pledged to marry, but I could not find that castle today, nor tell you the color of that woman’s hair. Who knighted me, old friend? What were my favorite foods? It all fades. Sometimes I think I was born on the bloody grass in that grove of ash, with the taste of fire in my mouth and a hole in my chest. Are you my mother, Thoros?”

That’s what’s so devastating and transgressive and great about Beric Dondarrion’s character. He is one of the very few genuine heroes in the story, but rather than becoming a more empathetic and self-actualized person along the way (as the Robin Hood trope would seem to dictate), he’s been rendered something barely human, a tottering skeleton propped up by magic the magician himself doesn’t understand. The marks his deaths have left on his body are not mere surface wounds veiling inner purity; they have torn apart the basic building blocks of his consciousness. What’s ambiguous about Beric isn’t his actions (although the show muddles this by having him sell Gendry to Melisandre), but his very existence, his self. He is his legacy of hope and fear, and nothing else. Inside him is only fire, and the Void.

What role will the hound-helm play in the future? My guess is that Jaime will adopt it before the story is over; it would fit him perfectly, so to speak. He was all surface at first, a pure avatar of ego, indulgence, and casual violence…and then, out of nowhere near the end of A Clash of Kings (after keeping him offstage the whole book), GRRM uses him to attack the whole notion of bedrock identity:

“How can you still count yourself a knight, when you have forsaken every vow you ever swore?”

Jaime reached for the flagon to refill his cup. “So many vows… they make you swear and swear. Defend the king. Obey the king. Keep his secrets. Do his bidding. Your life for his. But obey your father. Love your sister. Protect the innocent. Defend the weak. Respect the gods. Obey the laws. It’s too much. No matter what you do, you’re forsaking one vow or the other.”

Yet one of my favorite aspects of Jaime’s character is how GRRM refuses to pretend he’s not still the man who threw a child from a high tower. He is the Kingslayer, not just because he killed a king, but also because he never bothered to explain why and thereby change that reputation, because he lived his post-Aerys life as if he was an arrogant, amoral rogue…and therefore, he was. Jaime becomes a better person not because his True Self was better all along, but because his fucking hand gets chopped off, and he can no longer “be” the dashing lion swordsman. He changes because his previous performance is now inaccessible to him. Should he don the helm and become “the Hound,” the world will fear him…and much as I love him, they will be right to be afraid.

Gendrya ♥ Acorn Hall

“Arya?” Gendry had followed her out. “Lady Smallwood said there’s a smithy. Want to have a look?”

“If you want.” She had nothing else to do.

“This Thoros,” Gendry said as they walked past the kennels, “is he the same Thoros who lived in the castle at King’s Landing? A red priest, fat, with a shaved head?”

“I think so.” Arya had never spoken to Thoros at King’s Landing that she could recall, but she knew who he was. He and Jalabhar Xho had been the most colorful figures at Robert’s court, and Thoros was a great friend of the king as well.

“He won’t remember me, but he used to come to our forge.” The Smallwood forge had not been used in some time, though the smith had hung his tools neatly on the wall. Gendry lit a candle and set it on the anvil while he took down a pair of tongs. “My master always scolded him about his flaming swords. It was no way to treat good steel, he’d say, but this Thoros never used good steel. He’d just dip some cheap sword in wildfire and set it alight. It was only an alchemist’s trick, my master said, but it scared the horses and some of the greener knights.”

She screwed up her face, trying to remember if her father had ever talked about Thoros. “He isn’t very priestly, is he?”

“No,” Gendry admitted. “Master Mott said Thoros could outdrink even King Robert. They were pease in a pod, he told me, both gluttons and sots.”

“You shouldn’t call the king a sot.” Maybe King Robert had drunk a lot, but he’d been her father’s friend.

“I was talking about Thoros.” Gendry reached out with the tongs as if to pinch her face, but Arya swatted them away. “He liked feasts and tourneys, that was why King Robert was so fond of him. And this Thoros was brave. When the walls of Pyke crashed down, he was the first through the breach. He fought with one of his flaming swords, setting ironmen afire with every slash.”

“I wish I had a flaming sword.” Arya could think of lots of people she’d like to set on fire.

“It’s only a trick, I told you. The wildfire ruins the steel. My master sold Thoros a new sword after every tourney. Every time they would have a fight about the price.” Gendry hung the tongs back up and took down the heavy hammer. “Master Mott said it was time I made my first longsword. He gave me a sweet piece of steel, and I knew just how I wanted to shape the blade. Only Yoren came, and took me away for the Night’s Watch.”

“You can still make swords if you want,” said Arya. “You can make them for my brother Robb when we get to Riverrun.”

“Riverrun.” Gendry put the hammer down and looked at her. “You look different now. Like a proper little girl.”

“I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns.”

“Nice, though. A nice oak tree.” He stepped closer, and sniffed at her. “You even smell nice for a change.”

“You don’t. You stink.” Arya shoved him back against the anvil and made to run, but Gendry caught her arm. She stuck a foot between his legs and tripped him, but he yanked her down with him, and they rolled across the floor of the smithy. He was very strong, but she was quicker. Every time he tried to hold her still she wriggled free and punched him. Gendry only laughed at the blows, which made her mad. He finally caught both her wrists in one hand and started to tickle her with the other, so Arya slammed her knee between his legs, and wrenched free. Both of them were covered in dirt, and one sleeve was torn on her stupid acorn dress. “I bet I don’t look so nice now,” she shouted.

Tom was singing when they returned to the hall.

My featherbed is deep and soft,

and there I’ll lay you down,

I’ll dress you all in yellow silk,

and on your head a crown.

For you shall be my lady love,

and I shall be your lord.

I’ll always keep you warm and safe,

and guard you with my sword.

Harwin took one look at them and burst out laughing, and Anguy smiled one of his stupid freckly smiles and said, “Are we certain this one is a highborn lady?” But Lem Lemoncloak gave Gendry a clout alongside the head. “You want to fight, fight with me! She’s a girl, and half your age! You keep your hands off o’ her, you hear me?”

“I started it ” said Arya. “Gendry was just talking.”

“Leave the boy, Lem,” said Harwin. “Arya did start it, I have no doubt. She was much the same at Winterfell.”

Tom winked at her as he sang:

And how she smiled and how she laughed,

the maiden of the tree.

She spun away and said to him, no featherbed for me.

I’ll wear a gown of golden leaves,

and bind my hair with grass,

But you can be my forest love,

and me your forest lass

it’s 2047. game of thrones is finally over. david benioff and dan weiss are writing the series finale. suddenly, lem lemoncloak appears in their offices. behind him stands a hooded, silent figure.

“she doesn’t speak. but she remembers.”

lady stoneheart lets her hood fall back. she can’t see david and dan, but she hates them. her time has come, bitches. 

The boy named Ned is gone now.  She’s glad of that.  She doesn’t want a boy named Ned around, Ned Dayne, Ned for Ned, Dayne like Ashara who was never to be mentioned again.  The boy named Ned is gone now, but his memory lingers on like the memory of empty bones in a casket.

When she removes her hood, they stare at her neck, at the scars on her face.  She doesn’t feel them though.  They gape like open mouths, screaming in pain, but she does not hear them.  She does not notice them.  She only notices when she tries to speak, when she must hold her throat closed to make a noise at all.

But she doesn’t speak often.  She doesn’t speak, but she remembers–remembers all too clearly.

Harwin stands to her right most days, out of guilt she can only assume.  How many times had she watched him run at quintains with Robb in the yard of Winterfell, back when it was still summer, back when her boy had laughed and smiled and muttered in frustration when Harwin’s lance had landed truer than his?  Her boy would be as tall as Harwin now.  Tall and brave and dead, his heart stopped by steel.  Harwin does not speak of Robb, or of Winterfell.  He hardly speaks at all, except to tell the men to be quiet, for the Lady speaks.  But she doesn’t speak often, so Harwin remains silent.

She made Tom of Sevenstreams stop singing near her.  She’d had a girl once who’d loved dearly to sing, and a boy who had been killed by a song and now cannot stomach a melody at all.  And though they’d said that his cloak was of lemons, they stopped calling him “Lemoncloak” for “Lemoncloak” sounded too much like “lemon cake” and the sweetness of lemon cakes made her teeth hurt for gritting them.

And then there is the boy–the one who looks like Robert Baratheon, and who had come to find her, to say that he’d been a friend of her daughter.  He is a bastard too, like the boy Jon Snow, and, like the boy Jon Snow, a friend to Arya.  

Arya whom they had held.  Arya whom they had lost.

The boy stays away as well, for the most part, with his sad eyes.  She does not want his pity.  She wants none of their pity.

They’re all shades of them–the children she lost.  She’d wept when Lord Beric had given her life again–for this is not a life she wants, empty without them, painful without them.  She’s heard men say all her life that motherhood might make a woman mad.  She had denied it once, but now she does not, for she thinks of them, her precious babes, Robb boistrous in her arms, and Arya too, Bran and Sansa gentle and quiet, and Rickon loudest of them all.  She remembers Ned, Ned, Ned, not my hair, Ned loves my hair, and the warmth of him at her back while they watched their children playing, and there are none of them left but her, none of them not even the baby.  

Just her.  Just her and these shades of her children that haunt her step and infest this band of brothers.

And she’s not their brother, she can tell that much.  Their Silent Sister, mayhaps, but she was once a sister, and never before had sisterhood felt this way.  They obey her.  Not as a lady, but as a mother.  They do not climb when she tells them not to.  Her special boy had fallen even though he had climbed before he could walk and was as much a squirrel as a boy.  Unlike Bran, they listen to her when she tells them–do not climb.  They hang the nooses from horseback instead.

Once she’d been a Stark and a Tully.  Once she’d been Lady Catelyn, beautiful and charming and full of life.  But Lady Catelyn is dead and her body lives on.  Lady Stoneheart some call her, a Mother Merciless, leading a motherhood without banners.