or maybe she is not at all but sansa is a child and has no idea

anonymous asked:

i really liked your meta about sansa/littlefinger but i found out you ship sansan :/ don't you think that what he's doing to her is at least a little bit abusive? sexually and emotionally? their relationship is SO disturbing and creepy, he's a grown ass man clearly sexually & romantically attracted to an 11/12 year old girl, WHY would you ship it???? i don't understand.

First, thank you for liking my meta.  Here’s the thing… I wrote that meta based on textual analysis and in response to how the book community discusses Sansa’s complicated and conflicting feelings toward LF.  Many people mistakenly believe this is Sansa becoming his protege.  I did not write it with the intention of telling some shippers why they are “wrong.”     

As far as shipping goes, I’m a very ship and let ship person.  This is even when, and especially when, it’s a ship I find weird or distasteful.  I stay in my little sandbox and I don’t pay attention to (let alone try to police) what other people want to ship.  I’m too old to be barking up that tree.  I’d rather spend time writing metas or my own fanfic.  Now if I actually am going to argue with anyone on the internet, it’s going to be about the actual ASOIAF text with evidence to back up my position.  Even then I’m highly unlikely to seek out such a debate but on a rare occasion some land on my doorstep.  So…

As to your questions, let me start with the age issue first.  Let me be clear in real life such a relationship would be criminal and immoral, as it should be.  But this is a fictional world where there are vastly different ideas of what is age appropriate.  Remember, the proper way to raise your seven-year-old boy is to take him to a beheading and make him watch everything without flinching (and that’s from our beloved Ned).  I have yet to meet anyone who cried child abuse over this or stopped reading at that point.  So I don’t put too much emphasis on chronological age in questions of morality in the series.  

What I do look at is Sansa’s level of maturity and understanding of relationships and sex.  I do care about her agency.  I don’t ship Sansan (or ship her with anyone) in the early books because she’s still mentally a child and an abused prisoner of war.  I want her to come to her own decisions about what she wants at her own pace, on her own terms.  The good news is GRRM does too.  He rightly separated them at the night of the Blackwater to evolve independently, but parallel to one another.  Alayne II in AFFC is my favorite chapter of this transition to womanhood and maturity, contemplations on sex and love from a young woman’s perspective. 

 I would highly recommend this non-shipper essay on Sansa’s Sexual Maturation by sweetsunray that deals with the unkiss and Sansa figuring out what she wants. (pssst!  It’s Sandor).  A large part of her struggle is coming to accept the fact that what she does want is not the ideal as she always believed it would be.  The books are full of people just wanting who they want and it has nothing to do with the ideal standards.      

Do I think Sandor is abusive to Sansa? Like Joffrey and Littlefinger are abusive toward her?  No.  Definitely not.  I think he was at times impatient and frustrated with her superficiality, naivete, and immaturity.  He’s too uncompromising and overly harsh at times with the truth as he sees it.  Yet, Sansa is not afraid to challenge him when he’s being awful.  She is totally afraid of saying the wrong thing in front of Joffrey or Littlefinger.  

The only reason Sandor cares at all about her is that she cared first.  She responded to his secret, his vulnerability with compassion.  For once in his life, someone took his side after the system rewarded his brother and failed him.  It’s not at this point anything romantic or sexual for either of them.  He responds to her compassion by being protective and supportive through her abuse.  She reawakens in him a desire to be better.  He’s a jaded idealist, not a nihilist.  He does seek out her attention because he does crave a connection with someone, even if he can’t people around her.   He doesn’t want the intimacy to end because of his loud and clumsy mishandling.  He’s also frustrated with himself that he even wants a connection in the first place because he hates/fears the vulnerability that comes with it.  He’s a ball of conflicting emotions about her that he has no experience in how to sort out.  It’s very important that Sandor is written as someone who is as inexperienced in relationships as Sansa.  It levels the playing field between them.    

It’s not until Sansa has obviously started developing into a woman that he even notices her in that way (because the whole castle has).  He’s very drunk and he blurts out the inappropriate comment about her body.  It’s a very bungled attempt at flirting coming from someone who is also very emotionally stunted.  BUT… after talking with her he realizes that mentally she is still very innocent.  He knows it’s wrong, so he backtracks out of there as fast as he can, falling into an awkward silence.  That is the very worst of anything sexual that actually happens between them and he backs off.  Even the night of the Blackwater he is very drunk and his behavior is scary and wildly inappropriate, but it never crossed the line into permanent damage.  He never actually did anything sexual to her. He also could have forced her to go with him, but he did not.  She made her choice, it hurt, but in the end, he respected her decision to not go with him.  Do I think maybe he wanted to kiss her?  Yeah, probably.  But he didn’t.  He is not Gregor.  He is not a rapist.  He cares about her autonomy.  He cares about her consent even if he kind lost his mind (from trauma) for a minute there which he really, really regretted.  

This all says problematic to me, not creepy.  There are issues to overcome.  Good!  Bring it on!  That makes a story.  Littlefinger is creepy.  He totally does not care about her consent, boundaries, or discomfort to say the very least.  Men of all different ages have groped her, forced kisses on her, stripped her, beat her, and have attempted to rape her.   

If you don’t ship Sansan that’s totally fine by me.  If it doesn’t speak to you, that’s cool.  Ship and let ship.  I will say Sansa x whoever shippers are probably going to be very disappointed come TWOW.  All the mountains of text evidence point to future Sansan.  I got a huuuuuge meta coming out soon that deals with all that complete with tons of evidence to back up my analysis. Bottom line, I ship future Sansan because GRRM ships it and Sansa ships it.  Whatever makes that baby girl happy I want her to have.  The good news is when the author reunites them it will be when they are both really ready and have dealt with the respective issues that made an earlier relationship a terrible idea.                             

anonymous asked:

Besides Loras is there any other evidence that Renly looked down on Brienne?

I don’t think and don’t remember that Renly ever treated Brienne with open contempt; he gave her the public honor of a rainbow cloak the moment she asked for it without sneering or even batting an eyelid at her being a woman, he let her carry his standard and help him don his armor; in other words, on the surface, he was courteous and respectful of her dignity and role as a member of his kingsguard. So I’ll credit him for that. This is also why it’s hard to find objective evidence of Renly looking down on her, since we don’t have his pov.     

We have however Catelyn’s impression of the Brienne/Renly dynamic, and it’s not positive:

The way she looked at the king - looked down at him, she was a good hand higher, though Renly was near as tall as his brother had been - was painful to see.

Brienne dropped to her knees. “If I must part from Your Grace, grant me the honor of arming you for battle.” Catelyn heard someone snigger behind her. She loves him, poor thing, she thought sadly. She’d play his squire just to touch him, and never care how great a fool they think her.

Brienne was on her feet as well. “Your Grace, give me but a moment to don my mail. You should not be without protection.” King Renly smiled. “If I am not safe in the heart of Lord Caswell’s castle, with my own host around me, one sword will make no matter… not even your sword, Brienne. Sit and eat. If I have need of you, I’ll send for you.His words seemed to strike the girl harder than any blow she had taken that afternoon. “As you will, Your Grace.” Brienne sat, eyes downcast.

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You in Game of Thrones Part 2

Part 1 is here: https://girlygameofthrones.tumblr.com/post/157998187868/you-in-game-of-thrones

Pairing:  None really. (At least for now…)  More friendship fluff between reader, Robb, and Jon.

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Warnings: None.

Summary: You’re a regular girl from the 21st century that gets accidently transported into Game of Thrones

(I’ve never posted a part 2 on anything before, so I hope this works!)

Part 2.

When King Robert and the “Baratheon” family arrived, you waited for his arrival with the Starks.  Of course you weren’t in the line up, but you stood behind them with Jon and Theon and bowed when he hopped out of his carriage.  As he hugged Ned, your eyes traveled over to Cersei, wrapped up in thick furs and already clearly hating the North.  You didn’t care.  You hated Cersei for everything she had done, even though she hadn’t done most of it yet.

King Robert paused at each Stark child and said something nice to each one.  Then he insisted that Ned take him to the crypts, something that Cersei tried arguing against, but Robert ignored her.  

You spotted Jaime Lannister in the distance and bit your lip.  He really was handsome, but as of now, you knew he had a minus ten personality.  Then your eyes widened as you remembered Tyrion and that he was there.  Of the Lannisters, he was definitely the best one.

“Come on,” you said to Jon.  “Let’s find Tyrion!”

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soapieturner  asked:

Jonsa + 7

accidental baby acquisition.

it’s magic and stuff!~

They find the baby in the godswood.

It is, truth be told, kind of creepy. Not the baby. Well – okay, if Sansa is being honest, the baby is a little creepy, if only because the baby is perfect. Bright green eyes, a head of a soft golden curls, and plump rosy cheeks and chubby little arms and legs and toes.

No, the creepy factor is that they found the baby in a weirwood-woven basket, sleeping peacefully on a bed of fresh moss under the watchful, weeping eyes of the heart tree.

“And it was wearing a crown,” Arya says, arms crossed fitfully over her chest. “You need to stop forgetting to mention the damned crown.

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Our Beautiful Family

Request from @harrysliar for:
A Robb X Reader, something romantic and cute, with all Starks happy and alive ;)

Robb Stark X Reader

Originally posted by diewolves

**Just seeing this gif of the fam all together and smiling gives me feels, guys. Good ole George R.R. is really tugging at my heart strings with the Stark family. I actually cry every single time something happens to one of them**

A/N: I was happy to oblige this request! I needed some fluffy Robb feels for my heart so thanks so much for requesting this :) I hope you enjoy! With love, Kat.

Warnings: all the fluff, Stark family feels, Father!Robb feels, Husband!Robb feels, just all the feels basically

Words: 2458

The faint sound of crying woke you from your sleep. You were cuddled up to your husband Robb as you groaned and stretched to tend to your son, Greydon Stark, who was turning a year old in a week. You were excited to celebrate your son’s first name day, but he woke you up in the middle of the night more often than not.

“I’ve got him love” Robb said sleepily, kissing you on the forehead and then kissing your slightly swollen belly, “You need your rest.” You watched as he pulled back the lush, fur covers of your bed, clambering over to the crib your son slept in. You were lucky to have a man like Robb Stark at your side. He was loyal, loving, beautiful, and so good with your son. You were already pregnant with your second child, whom both of you were sure was a boy. Since you were already awake, you sat up in bed and watched as the love of your life lifted your son out of his crib and cradled him in his arms, cooing softly and rocking him gently in an attempt to lull him back to sleep. You caressed your ever-growing baby bump, smiling at the amazing sight that was your husband.

“Is everything alright in here?” you heard through the door, followed by a soft knock.

“Yes, mother. Everything is fine, Greydon here was just stirring a bit” Robb answered, tickling under the boy’s chin with his pointer finger, loud enough for Lady Catelyn to hear, but soft enough as to not disturb your son a second time.

“You can enter, Lady Stark” you said, pulling up the covers to conceal your belly. You were going to wait until your son’s name day to reveal your second pregnancy. Catelyn peeked through the door, smiling at you and Robb. He had returned to the bed now, still holding your son in his arms, the two of you fascinated by his tiny features and his already curly, dark hair.

“My, you two look like Ned and I when we had you, Robb” she couldn’t help but tear up a bit as she walked in the room with one hand over her chest, the sight of a new Stark generation forming was warming her heart. The two of you smiled up at her with love in your eyes.

“I see he’s just as restless as you were too” she laughed, thinking back to all the times her own eldest son woke her and Ned from their sleep.

“Lady Catelyn, I now fully understand your fierce protection of your children. I couldn’t imagine a day without Greydon and I now never want to see him hurt or upset. The strength of a mother’s love was something I now know that I never fully understood until the moment I had my first son” you smiled at her and the both of you were crying now. Leave it to the loving mothers to be weeping in the early hours of the morning over how much you loved your children.

“Well, Lady Y/N Stark” she emphasized your surname with a smile, “I’m glad my son chose a woman who makes an excellent mother and loves him as much as I do and I know you’ll protect and love your children with the same ferocity that I did my own. I’ll leave you two to your own, breakfast will be ready in a few hours” she smiled, making her way to the door. Before she left, though, she added one more thing. “Oh, and I’m happy you said first son. I hope that means you plan on having more” she said with a wide smile and a wink, closing the door as quietly as possible with respect to your son who was now sleeping again. Robb put your son back in his crib, smiling down at him and kissing his nose before returning to your bed.

“I’m going to see the midwife today” you said, eyes closed and grinning as you laid your head on Robb’s chest once he laid back down.

“To find out the sex?” he said, you could hear his voice perk up at the idea of finding out if your second child really was a boy. He was stroking your hair with one hand and intertwining his fingers with yours with his other hand.

“Yes” you said, kissing the patch of skin that was exposed at the top of his shirt, making your way up his neck to his soft lips.

Unfortunately, your cuddle session with Robb had to come to an end. The sun was rising so you moved to get your son ready for breakfast, handing Robb his clothes from the dresser as you went. You pinned the cloth diaper onto your son, quickly dressing him in his trousers and tunic. His baby clothes were so tiny and precious. You were gifted a hand-crafted tunic with a Stark direwolf sewn on the front by Sansa, she was getting quite good at embroidery, but you decided to save it for Greydon’s name day and settle for a plain grey tunic today. You handed Robb a grey tunic to match his son’s and some black trousers. He donned a simple black leather pullover to go over his shirt, because it was still summer there wouldn’t be many furs worn, especially inside the castle. You handed your son to Robb once he was done getting dressed, because he was quite wiggly and restless and couldn’t be left on the floor or bed unattended because he was sure to get himself in trouble. You had learned that lesson the hard way when you left him on the floor for a moment and he tipped over a carafe, spilling wine all over himself. You returned from the washroom to your son, sticky and purple, giggling and playing in the puddle of the wine he was sitting in. He was a troublemaker, just like your husband.

After you were done tying up your maroon dress, making sure your slightly pregnant belly did not show at all, you turned around to see Robb laying on the bed on his back, tossing your son lightly in the air as they both laughed.

“My, my. You boys definitely keep me on my toes” you laughed, snatching your son up quickly and tickling his sides, making him laugh even harder. It was moments like these that you cherished, when there was no war and no deaths, only peace and happiness.

The three of you made your way to the dining hall for breakfast and you were the last to arrive, which was mostly expected from the new parents. You opened the doors to the hall to see the Stark family all deep in conversation, laughing and having a good time and enjoying their breakfast. You took your seat next to Catelyn and Robb took his seat next to Ned, sitting across from you. You placed Greydon on your lap. Sansa was sat next to you and Arya next to her. John, Bran, and Rickon were sat next to one another beside Robb. You helped yourself to some bacon, savoring the taste of it as your son snuck the rest of the piece you cut in half and tried to eat it. You and your husband laughed as you took it away just in time and moved to grab his baby food and maybe feel him some eggs.

After breakfast, with the whole family sated, you decided to hand your son to Robb so he could watch him while you visited the septa about the baby in your belly. It felt nice to keep the secret between just you and Robb for now. When you got pregnant the first time, you were excited and told everyone immediately, now it felt even more intimate because you and him were the only ones who knew. Robb was going outside with his siblings, so you figured letting your son get some of his seemingly never-ending energy out by running around outside wasn’t such a bad plan.

“Mya” you said, knocking on the door of the room where she conducted exams and delivered babies and pushing open the door.

“Come in, Lady Stark!” she said, her hands submerged in a wash basin where she was scrubbing her fingers. You loved Mya, she helped deliver Greydon and when you told her to keep it under wraps that you were pregnant yet again, she happily obliged.

She tested your blood and examined your body, in an attempt to figure out the sex of your child. You were excited and nervous, secretly hoping that you would bear another boy. The few minutes that it took for the blood test to cure felt like hours and you were sitting on the table, relentlessly tapping your fingers in nervousness.

“Well, Y/N, I had a feeling from your physical examination and your blood test has confirmed it. You’ll be having another boy” she smiled as she saw your ecstatic reaction, tears welling in your eyes in pure, unadulterated happiness.

“Thank you, Mya!” you exclaimed, hugging her tightly and running off to tell Robb the good news. You couldn’t contain your excitement any longer and you had to call your husband inside to tell him the news in private. You poked your head out the door into the courtyard and saw Robb and Jon playing with your son while Bran and Rickon ran around chasing one another and Sansa and Arya danced around, giggling and braiding one another’s hair.

“Robb, can I speak to you for a moment?” you asked, trying to hide your enthusiasm as to not let on that you and he were holding secrets from the family. He excused himself from Jon, leaving your son with him and you watched as Jon lifted him up in the air, laughing and smiling, thinking about how he’d make a great father one day. Robb finally got to you and you pulled him indoors, wrapping your arms around his neck and crashing your lips to his quickly.

“It’s a boy” you said, barely even able to get the words out without laughing and crying at the same time.

“Really?” he asked, tears now evident in his big, blue eyes.

“Yes” you smiled and nodded, giggling as Robb wrapped you up for yet another hug, this one tighter than the last. His beard tickled your skin as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and you could feel the vibrations of his laughter  on the soft skin of your throat.

The week passed so quickly you could’ve sworn that you simply blinked and it was the day of your son’s name day. You were busy dressing your son in the tunic that Sansa made for him when Robb came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and rubbing your swollen stomach gently as he kissed your shoulder and the side of your face, his scruff tickling your skin, causing you to giggle. Greydon was playing with the fur blankets on your bed and Robb spun you around, kneeling down in front of you and kissing your belly a few times.

“I can’t wait to meet you, little Axell Stark” he grinned that your baby finally had a name, one that the two of you settled on quickly. The two of you prided yourselves on the fact that the names of your sons had great meaning. Greydon meant born to be eminent, while Axell meant Father of peace. You hoped their names would ring true through their lives and that your sons would live up to their great surnames as well.

Carrying your joyful son down the stairs and through the halls to the dining hall where the party was being held, your husband followed closely behind you, making silly faces at your son to elicit giggles from him. Walking into the dining hall, you were greeted by Ned Stark.

“Y/N and Robb! It’s good to see you this morning, and there’s my grandson. The boy that we’re celebrating today!” he smiled, whisking your son from your arms and pulling him into a hug. It was nice to see Lord Stark in such a happy, carefree mood.

“Y/N!” Sansa and Arya yelled in unison, coming up to hug you from both sides, the three of you laughing at the gesture. They always treated you as if they hadn’t seen you in weeks even if they had just seen you the night before. You greeted the boys and Lady Catelyn, pulling them all into hugs, with Catelyn examining you after she hugged you, noticing that you had put on some weight. She raised an eyebrow at you, causing you to nudge Robb and smile, signaling it was time for your big reveal.

“Okay, so Robb and I have a surprise for you all!” you said as Robb wrapped an arm around your shoulders, smiling down at you and kissing you on the temple.

“In a few short months” you continued, the smile on your face growing wider, “You will be meeting the newest member of the Stark family, Axell.” When you finished, you were rubbing your belly, revealing the bump through the fabric of your dress. Robb’s hand was over yours, smiling like the proud father that he was.

“Aye, that’s my boy!” Ned yelled, pulling Robb in for a huge hug and ruffling his hair as he laughed and clapped him on the back. He received hugs from all three of his brothers, while Lady Catelyn was simply over the moon for the fact that she would be getting her second grandchild so soon. You were holding Greydon on your hip and talking to the girls and Sansa was prattling on adorably about how she couldn’t wait to sew clothes for another baby and Arya was telling you that she’d help train the boys in sword fighting when they were old enough. The happiness surrounding you was infectious and you were so lucky to be surrounded by such kind, loving, caring people. These were the people who were going to help raise your sons and teach them their most important lessons.

The celebration of your son’s name day was a truly incredible occasion, with many houses of the North coming to celebrate the birthday of the potential future King in the North.

You surveyed your family; talking, laughing, and playing with your son, while the other houses of the North that had allegiances to the Starks presented him with gifts of all kinds. Your family was only in its beginning stages, and you couldn’t wait to continue your adventures with the love of your life and your beautiful children.

aryasmeatpies-deactivated201706  asked:

Jonsa prompt: Jon tells Dany he'll think about a political marriage, and doesn't understand why Sansa (and a loyal Arya and Bran) are all so pissed off about it

[open for Jon/Sansa prompts]

“Have you even noticed?”

Arya levels her question at Jon over roast rabbit. They went out hunting today, and it was Arya who bagged the rabbit, a cause for celebration throughout the castle. That’s a small cause to celebrate, but in the heart of winter in the North, sometimes it’s the little things.

“Noticed what?”

“Sansa’s angry with you.” She and Bran are, too, but for a different reason. Mostly different.

Jon jerks a scrap of meat off the bones and stuffs it in his mouth. “Of course I have.”

Arya is a bit lost. “Then–why?” She doesn’t know how to finish that thought.

He shrugs, sullen, and she’s reminded of their childhood, of his quiet avoidance and resentment of her mother, of her own loyalties divided and twisted helplessly. “She won’t talk to me, I won’t talk to her,” he says. It makes him sound painfully young.

It makes her breath catch in her throat. “Jon …”

He waves her off irritably. “The Queen’s only asked that I do my duty.”

“You’ve done your duty, though,” she argues. “You died for your duty.”

His spoon clatters on the table. He avoids her eyes, but she can sense his anger rising.

“She just wants you to marry some southron lady and go away forever.”

“I know,” he grates out.

“Hasn’t there been enough asked of you?” Arya whispers. “Can’t you do this one thing for yourself?”

“When have I ever done anything for myself?” he demands. “When have I ever been allowed?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Arya cries, standing up with the force of her words, the force of her feelings. They’re both panting, as if they’ve run a race or fought a battle.

“She won’t talk to me, I won’t talk to her,” he repeats mulishly, and Arya knows he won’t, or can’t, budge.

“You ought to talk to Jon,” says Arya, watching Sansa in her mirror. She’s pulling the pins from her elaborate hair, one by one.

“About what?” Her words are rife with studied innocence, as if she has no idea what Arya is talking about. Sansa used to be the liar, but Arya spent many moons lying in service of the House of Black and White, never quite No One, and she knows what a liar sounds like.

“About him going south and marrying some woman the Queen’s picked out for him,” Arya says impatiently.

Sansa shakes out a braid over her shoulder. “What business of that is mine?”

Arya sighs. “Really? Truly?”

“If you have something to say, then by all means say it.” There’s an edge to Sansa’s voice.

You have something to say to him, so you should say it,” insists Arya. “You do know what I mean. I did not imagine all those walks through the godswood where you whispered to each other and came out with rosy cheeks. I know I didn’t.”

Sansa slaps down a pin on the vanity with a vengeance. “He’s already said he’ll consider it. That raven’s flown.”

“Then tell him to re-consider,” Arya pleads. She’s reduced to pleading with Sansa, gods help her. “Keep him here, at home. You know you can.”

“I know no such thing.”

“Then at least tell him you’re upset with him, and why.”

“Why? What good would that do?”

She sounds genuinely incredulous. Sansa didn’t pay much attention to Jon when they were children, so she doesn’t understand now.

“Just so he knows,” Arya says. It feels like a betrayal of Jon to keep going, but she thinks it’s the worse betrayal to not. “So it’s not like … when he was a child, and Mother was angry, and he didn’t understand and it hurt him.” She’d seen the pain shining in his eyes then. She caught a glimpse of it again the day before, even though her mother was long dead.

“Mother was a great lady, Arya,” says Sansa severely.

“Maybe she was, but maybe you can be greater, too. Speak to him.”

“He should have spoken to me when the raven came. But he didn’t. If he won’t speak with me, I won’t speak with him.” Sansa’s voice is firm, and Arya despairs of them both.

Anonymous said:

Who is the Stark child that is most like Ned in your opinion? (I don’t count Jon.)

I think all the Stark kids took after Ned in some aspects and internalized a lot of his values and lessons, and at the same time, none of them is really “like” Ned? Each surviving Starkling is growing into his or her own person and, in a way, moving past their father’s example (see: some of them develop manipulative skills, while others grapple with more nuanced and ambiguous notions of “honor” & “justice”; all of them are starting to break some rules). I like that GRRM resisted the impulse of turning one specific Starkling into an obvious Ned 2.0: instead of funneling all of Ned’s legacy traits into one kid, he’s distributed his qualities and flaws among all the children (almost) equally.

That said: barring Jon—whose Ned-ness is actually a bit complex, and not as straightforward as his physical resemblance imo—I see echoes of Ned’s personality especially in Bran and Sansa. (Or maybe they’re just the ones whose similarities with Ned interest me more, as they’re not exactly the most obvious choices, I don’t know)

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Broken Crown - Part 4

Pairing: Jon Snow x Reader

A/N: Apologies for taking so long. Please forgive me. I’m trying my best. 

Summary: Life without Y/N is hard on Jon and their Kingdom. 

Part One - Part Two - Part Three 


He had never known a Winter so cold until the one without her. By his side is where she was meant to be, and yet, the world was cruel enough to not allow that. They had just gotten back to the life they wanted for each other. He had hope that they would try for another family soon. Now, there was the possibility that he’d end up alone again. 

Jon Snow, the bastard turned King, now wears a broken crown as his wife fights to stay alive. 

From the moment, the sun rose to the time it set, Jon’s friends and family could find him sat next to her bed, fingers curled around hers while his head stayed bowed in silence. His stream of thoughts was an endless sea of sorrow as he considered what would happen to him without her. 

At this point, he could care less about the kingdom as long as Y/N came out of this alive. He’d go off and live in a cave with her for the rest of his life if it meant he could have her. 

With Sansa nursing her newborn and Ser Davos focused on making sure their kingdom was secured from any dragons, they had delegated the job of being Jon’s shoulder of support to Tormund; and the job had proven to be more difficult than fighting an entire army of wights.

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It’s just a dare (Throbb)

Nobody else is available so Theon babysits Rickon and Bran. They always insist on playing truth or dare and they always trick him with their truths. So this time he chooses Dare and they dare him to ask Robb out :/ he claims it’s just to not be a coward, but he’s weirdly excited for the date


That time Bran and Rickon over hear Robb talking about how he really feels about Theon and so they trick Theon into asking him on a date.


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Recovered Jonsa Fic #15: Changes

Another fic repost!


The private Stark family suppers were something he suggested when they all finally reunited. Every three nights, instead of taking their evening meal in the Great Hall with the court, the four of them would gather in Sansa solar, eating their dinner off of trenchers, and just talk. The “suppers” would often last well after everyone finished eating, with the four of them just sitting back, sometimes performing one task or another, sometimes not, and just talking.

They’re cozy, they’re fun, they’re rewarding, they’re everything the four of them need.

It all changes for him one morning, though.

He wakes to discover that apparently he’d stayed so late that he fell asleep upon his sister’s sofa, a blanket over his body and pulled up to his chin. It’s not the first time this has happened. Both he and Arya have done this several times at this point. That’s fine. Sansa never minds. She often wakes them with breakfast and a fresh set of clothes brought from their chambers.

But Bran doesn’t wake to that. He’s not sure what wakes him. The blanket is over him, pulled up to his chin. There’s a pillow under his head that he doesn’t remember from the night before, and his boots are gone. It’s a little earlier than he usually wakes, judging by the light, and it’s quiet. But otherwise, normal.

Then he hears a groan coming from the floor. One that sounds like..

Bran pulls himself into an upright position and immediately regrets it.

Jon’s on the floor, on the bearskin rug.

Sansa lets Bran and Arya sleep here. But any and every time Jon has dozed off in her chambers, she’s woken him and sent him back to his rooms. Always. Until this moment, Bran never understood why.

Now he has an idea, and really wishes he doesn’t.

Because Jon isn’t alone.

Jon is less alone than anyone can be. Oh no, he’s curled up, half on top of not only the rug, but Bran’s eldest sister.

Bran tries to convince himself that this couldn’t possibly be how it looks. No, it’s just an accident. It must be, right? After he dozed off and Arya left, the other two probably decided they wanted to keep talking and sat on the floor by the fire and just fell asleep by accident and…

The problem is, Bran and Arya have fallen asleep next to each other before, too. On this sofa. Sometimes Bran would wake with an aching neck because his head fell on his sister’s shoulder or something. But never, ever could he imagine waking up to find them like… this.

It’s not just that they’re touching so, so much. Jon’s left leg is bent and resting atop Sansa’s skirts and his head and arm… Seven Hells.

He’s practically molded to her. The front of his pelvis is pressed to her hip. His arm hangs over, and his hand is resting on her right breast. And his face… His face…

There’s no other way to characterize what is happening. Jon’s mouth is pressed to the hollow of Sansa’s throat.

Then there is Sansa, who has her arm around Jon’s waist, lying on her back, smiling her sleep.

These are not two people who simply lost consciousness next to each other. These are two people who unconsciously reached for one another, who are holding each other as if they’ve done it a thousand times before. As if that’s the only way they can really sleep well.

Bran doesn’t know what to do. He knows that if the two of them knew he’s seen them like this, they’d be shocked. They’d probably spring apart, red-faced, sputtering about how it’s an accident and nothing was happening.

This is definitely an accident, but something was still happening.

How long has it been happening? Does he even want to know?

When Bran told Jon what he saw in his visions, he made sure Jon knew that they were still brothers. Arya insisted that she was still his little sister.

Sansa insisted that it “meant nothing, of course” and that “nothing’s changed.”

“Yes, of course,” Jon said in reply, “Nothing’s changed.”

Only now, looking back on that, does Bran think that maybe both of them said this too quickly, too forcefully.

Neither of them said that they were still siblings. Jon and Bran said that. Jon and Arya said that.

Jon and Sansa did not. They said everything but that.

Bran panics. What does he do? He feels sick. He wishes he were still asleep.

He doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to know anything.

But he has to.

Jon groans in his sleep again, and sort of nuzzles Sansa’s neck further. Without even thinking, Bran lays back down, closing his eyes. But not all the way.

They just stay like that for much, much too long. Every second feels like an hour. Bran is in Hell.

After what seems like an eternity, his sister finally stirs. Her eyes open.

This is the first time Bran has ever heard Sansa utter a blue word.

She pushes Jon away and hisses for him to wake up. “Jon!”

Jon kind of jolts awake, looking around in confusion. “WAZZAPENING?!”

“Shhhhh!” Sansa scrambles and points to Bran. “He’ll wake!”

Jon sees Bran, and a look of panic descends. His older brother curses.

“I have to go,” he whispers.

Sansa responds with an urgent, annoyed nod, basically shooing him out. Jon tip-toes out, taking care to shut the door with as little noise as possible.

With one more nervous glance at Bran, Sansa disappears into her bedchamber.

Not too long after, she emerges in her dressing gown and quietly calling for the maids to come. Breakfast and fresh clothes arrive for Bran, and Sansa leans over to “wake” him. “Good morning,” she says, with perhaps a touch of nervousness, “Did you sleep well?”

Bran nods, pretending to wake. And he says nothing that morning. He pretends nothing is amiss.

Everything’s amiss, though. And everything changes.

He can’t look at them together, or at either of them, without thinking of what he witnessed. What used to seem innocent suddenly isn’t anymore. He doesn’t sleep. He lays awake at night wondering if Jon is sneaking into Sansa’s bed. He watches them from a distance, speaking to each other, and shivers. For the first time, he notices the little looks they steal at one another when they think no one is looking. How the smiles they exchange with one another are always the biggest and brightest.

On supper nights, Bran doesn’t leave Sansa’s solar. He stays late and pretends to fall asleep. He witnesses Jon kiss Sansa good-bye as she reluctantly shoos him out.

Both of his siblings soon pick up on the fact that something is wrong, and they both, in their own way, try to get him to tell him what it is. Has he had another vision? Nightmares? Has someone said something to him?

He lies and tells them he misses Meera Reed. He does miss Meera, but that’s not it.

They send for Meera, asking her to return to Winterfell. His friend is a comfort, but he can’t tell her the truth. How can he?

This goes on for months. Bran sees more and more. His sister is oddly fixated on making sure she has her morning cup of tea. One day, during breakfast, Bran offers it to one of the maids, Brenda, who is heavy with the crofter’s child.

Sansa promptly knocks over the pot, spilling all over it and staining the white tablecloth. The hot water splashes everywhere, burning Bran’s wrist.

When the White Walkers finally arrive, Bran is almost happy. Jon has to leave. He does. The King in the North marches off to war.

And that’s even worse. Now, instead of suffering the sight of them together, Bran has to suffer Sansa’s utter misery. She loses weight. Dark circles form around her eyes. She weeps when no one is watching.

One night, Bran pretends to fall asleep again after supper, and spies on his sister. She kneels down under the windowsill, lifts a loose floorboard, and opens a padlocked box with a key hanging from a chain around her neck. Inside are papers. She reads a couples, then hides them all away, and goes to bed.

Bran stops spying on her.

They win the war. Jon returns to Winterfell with his long-lost aunt, the Mother of Dragons. The new Queen in the South. The silver-haired queen is clearly interested in her Northern Nephew. She makes toasts to “unity” between the North and South. She’s so absurdly beautiful that Bran is certain that this is the end of it. And he hates himself when he imagines his sister’s heartbreak, which she hides beautifully.

She’s always smiling, always courteous, always Sansa. She shows the visiting queen nothing but warmth.

And Bran’s guilt deepens. And he can’t stand to see her suffer alone. So he pretends to fall asleep in her rooms again. This time, he’ll pretend to wake when she starts crying, he won’t even ask why, he’ll just comfort her. She deserves it.

But that doesn’t happen. Sansa pulls the blanket to her brother’s chin, and she smiles. She does not retire to her bedchamber. She leaves her rooms altogether. She returns at dawn, looking content. She takes her tea at breakfast.

Jon’s Name Day approaches, and Sansa actually invites Daenerys to a Stark supper. “You’re Jon’s family, and thus, you’re our family.”

Daenerys accepts graciously. And it’s… it’s the worst supper ever. Whatever the dragon queen expected, it clearly wasn’t a quiet, cozy family affair in which Jon and Arya discussed the merits of different steel while they sharpened Longclaw and Needle, Sansa sat quietly on the couch, stitching, and Bran challenged the queen to a game of cyvasse.

Daenerys continually steals looks at Jon, and Bran can’t help but wonder if it might be more than a simple attraction and political interest. Her regard for Jon seems genuine. And Jon seems to admire her and enjoy her company. But he shows no signs of attraction for the woman every other man in the world wants.

Does she still hope? Bran wonders. He hopes, for her sake, that she hasn’t fallen in love. Because Jon doesn’t deserve her.

The night carries on, and Bran finds himself pitying his opponent, and growing angrier at his brother. He tries to distract Daenerys every time Jon and Sansa steal glances at each other. Gods, he hopes Daenerys doesn’t know. That she never finds out.

Or, at least, he hopes that for most of the evening.

But then, Jon and Arya both sheathe their blades. Arya begins playing with Ghost. And Jon walks over to the couch. When he sits, Sansa adjusts her position in a way that seems so obviously intimate that Bran wants to scream.

His brother leans over and looks at Sansa’s embroidery. “What’s this for?”

“It’s the bodice for a new gown I’m making.”

Bran has known Jon his entire life. And not once has his brother given a shit about fashion. But now…

“You should put a flower right….” He pokes the surface of the fabric, “There.”

“A flower?”

“Yes, a blue one. It would be pretty.”

Sansa laughs. “Jon, it’s our Heart Tree. Weirwoods don’t have blue flowers.”

“Maybe this one should,” he insists playfully, giving her this look.

They both stare at each other, as if silently communicating. Finally, Jon takes a deep breath, looks around the room, and speaks.

“Everyone… I -or, rather, we- have an announcement to make…”

As it turns out, everyone knew. But no one said anything. Arya seems thrilled, though. She hugs them both. Daenerys just sighs, shrugs, and offers resigned congratulations.

Bran surprises himself. Once it’s said, once it’s out there, it’s like a weight has been lifted. It starts making sense.

He observes how happy the two of them look as Arya congratulates them. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen loved ones look so hopeful and at peace. And before he knows it, he’s smiling softly.

Winter is ending. Things change. They’re all home again, and they’ll be together for the rest of their lives.

Bran decides to embrace the spring.

GoT: Gendry: Season 7 & 8 Hopes n Dreams

k but Gendry and Orys Baratheon parallels because like… if he is gonna be a big thing in season 7 like everyone is rumoring and that he’s been seen in Belfast (Winterfell and the general North) AND Spain (Kingslanding and the general south) i wanna take a minute to talk about what he’s got.

He’s the last of the Baratheon bloodline. We all know that. But he’s also prolly the only living blood relative of Danaerys. Dont forget that Robert Baratheon’s Grandmother was Princess Rhaella Targaryen AND Orys Baratheon was a Targaryen bastard as well, making Gendry her only blood family (either than Jon of course, but we all know Jon’s gonna do shit.)

If he lives through the war of the dawn I can see him getting rewarded as Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm’s End and reviving House Baratheon.

Now how will this come about I wonder. Gendry wouldn’t come up with that himself. I dont think Danaerys would come up with it herself because she would have to have someone explain everything to her. Now, who has an interest in bettering the realm? Ohh! Tyrion and Varys. I think one of the two or BOTH will tell Gendry that he has a shot at Lordship and of course Gendry will be all like “No I hate the nobility. I dont want to be one of them.” and then the answer to that will be. “Your distaste of the nobility is exactly why you should become a Lord. You have a duty.” 

“And duty? Why? Because the king fucked my mother in a brothel, now I have a duty to his house?”

“No, your claim to House Baratheon is merely an opportunity. Your duty lies with your young self, a bastard boy with no family wondering around flea bottom hungry. Any other highborn lord will sit in the golden stag dining room at Storm’s End and eat their supper while his people starve… I say, you would sell all those golden stags, wouldn’t you? You’d be content to eat at a simple wooden table knowing it wasnt on the backs of the lowborns. The last thing this realm needs is another castle full of pampered brats that don’t know a damn thing about the people they rule. If you live through this war I know I can easily convince our Queen to make you Lord Baratheon of Storm’s End. After all you are her cousin…”


I want the Acorn Hall scene to take place still even tho we’re way past it in the books. Maisie Williams is older now and Arya has completed most of her solo self-finding soul-searching mission and is now back in Westeros completing more of her list and then probably going home to Winterfell where Sansa is.

We saw Arya in some nice feminine clothes in Braavos. Personally, I think she’s pulling a “tomboy grows up and begins to appreciate femininity in her own unique way.”  thing that happens all the time. as much as people wanna say Arya will always be this dress and bath hating child forever, realistically it’s not likely.

The party traveling to Winterfell from Kingslanding is large so Sansa is planning a feast for everyone as a welcome back/to. I can see a nice sisterly moment where Sansa asks Arya if she’d like something nice to wear to the feast and when Arya isnt disgusted by the question and actually smirks a bit and maybe makes a joke about how pretty her brown old tunic is.. Sansa takes her hand and they go away together to pick out dresses and do their hair nice and we get to see them have this really innocent happiness again even just for a bit. then of course the only dress at Winterfell that will fit Arya is this acorn dress. then of course you know the whole Acorn Hall scene with Gendry. and I want Ser Bronn of the Blackwater to be the one that sings Featherbed and teases them because I love Bronn and I think that laughing and teasing them is totally something he would do, as well we have already seen him drunkenly singing The Rains of Castamere before the Battle of Blackwater, so why not sing My Featherbed?


Arya will wake up a day after the war of the dawn has ended and she’s all bandaged up but is not that bad and capable of walking. Sansa is by her side. She asks about a few people and finally asks about Gendry. By most everyone’s knowledge of yesterday they all thought Gendry was too badly hurt and wasnt going to make it. Arya runs to his room and takes his head in her hand and talks sweetly to him thinking that this is the last time she’s ever going to have with him. Then she gives him a soft kiss. Gendry then opens his eyes a bit and whispers, “Arya…”


“I’m… alright..”

and there’s a moment there she’s processing what’s been said. then the Maester of whoever is caring for people comes into the room not having heard the whispers, “Isn’t it great My Lady? I was just spreading a bit of a word to everyone about him. Most people, including myself, thought he was a goner, but then I started tending to his wounds and they werent even half as bad as we all thought. Cleaned and bound him up right as rain and knocked him out with milk of the poppy.” By this time now Arya is horrified. She let’s go of him and stands up, embarrassed. Gendry tries to console her, “Come on, Arya, don’t be embarrassed. It was sweet.” Arya immediately leaves because she has to, though she doesnt actually want to stay away. She goes to the kitchens and gets breakfast for them both and returns.  


“…but what’s west of Westeros? I’d like to see that.” I cant see Gendry wanting to adventure around the world with Arya and as much as I’d like to fantasize about Arya and Gendry being the Lord and Lady of Storm’s End and having lil Baratheon babies… i dont know…. I feel like after the war of the dawn and Arya has taken her vengeance and maybe ditched her list all together after having her blood warmed again by Jon, Sansa, and Gendry that Arya won’t want to stay in one place being a lady and wife and mother. it just seems weird for her to end up the lady of Storm’s End after saying she wants to see what’s West of Westeros.

UPDATE: I am just remembering Gendry’s talk with Davos. Davos was born in fleabottom as well. King Stannis gave him a lordship and made him the hand of the king. Davos almost didnt accept the Lordship but he did because he wanted his son to have a better life. But then his son died young anyways! And Davos may be clean and have soft bed but he’s no more safe or happy because of his Lordship. What if Gendry likes the picturesque ideas Tyrion and/or Varys tells him about how the realm doesnt need another pampered bitch ass lord? And that he can do the realm some good? He can help people? He was once one of them therefore he knows what they need? Well… what if Gendry doesnt really give a crap about the people???? Maybe Gendry is only seriously considering accepting a Lordship because it might mean getting to fucking relax and be safe and clean and fed… but then, wait, no, if he’s learned 1 thing during this wild ride it’s that castles and armies and nobility and money aint actually shit. it doesnt matter that Gendry would be a good and noble lord. sure the smol folk would love him but that doesnt mean he’d be safe and not create enemies just by existing. Ned Stark was kind and honest and noble and well liked and he still had enemies that wanted and got his head.

Here’s what I see and hope for: Gendry seriously considers accepting the offer of being Lord of the Stormlands. But then Arya comes to him after the war of the dawn and asks him what he thinks he’ll do next and where he’ll go. She’s asking him this because she wants him to come with her.. to see what’s West of Westeros. He tells her that he’s been offered a lordship. Arya’s taken aback by that, and asks, “So that’s it then? You’re going to be a Lord.” Gendry nods, “No.”

Does anyone remember that shot after him and Arya first met and they were first leaving King’s Landing? Gendry put his helmet on the cart and pulls himself up, and then he gives Arya a hand and pulls her up and they sit next to each other on the way to the wall.

what i am seeing is a mirror of that but on the boat sailing for a new world in the west of whatever. maybe they climb somewhere high on the boat. Gendry puts his stuff up on the sit and pulls himself up and then gives Arya a hand a pulls her up and they sit next to each other has they’re leaving King’s Landing for the last time just as they sat next to each other the first time. can you imagine the gifsets?

Someone needs to write a time travel fix-it fic where Sansa and Theon go back in time after the fall and slowly figure out the best way to change events in the best possible course is to persuade Ned to marry them together before he marries Sansa to Joffrey.

And the Starks know something’s off because Sansa has suddenly become a lot more mature and Theon has lost some of his spark and doesn’t whore around anymore and has suddenly started looking at Sansa as though she is salvation and light ans warmth. And then they suddenly start demanding to be married and Joffrey be damned.

Imagine Theon becoming too cocky towards Sansa at some point in the beginning, trying to forget Reek, and Sansa telling him she will never let him treat her with disrespect even for a second and him waiting by her window late at night - crying and apologizing for simply speaking out of his place. Imagine her letting him into her room. Imagine them falling asleep together for many nights because only they can help each other with the terrible nightmares. Imagine them being found out by Ned at some point.

Just imagine the Starks meeting the Boltons at some point, when Sansa is actually old enough in body to have sex -but still hasn’t consummated her marriage with Theon- and everyone wondering why Sansa is suddenly having panic attacks, Theon has a breakdown in their private chambers and Sansa comforts him by caressing him gently and offering him a safe harbour via sex - letting him be the one in control and repeating “You are Theon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands, my husband. And you are loved. And accepted”. And afterwards he feels like a piece of shit, because Sansa has been traumatized because of Ramsay’s numerous rapes in the past future but somehow she had decided he was worth letting in. And probably that’s where he realizes she loves him. And that he’s completely and utterly worshipping the ground she walks on.

Imagine him being impossibly tender with her for weeks. Imagine the Starks raising eyebrows at these displays. And the giddiness and love Sansa feels for him. And imagine Ramsey saying something to Sansa and the rest of the Starks gasping as Theon draws a knife in a heartbeat and has it pressed at Ramsay’s throat, and angrily hissing that if the bastard so much as breathes at his lady wife’s direction again, he will slaughter him, because he is *Theon Greyjoy* and he protects what is his.

And imagine them at some point spilling the beans to one of the Starks- the horror and the angst and the horrible future they’re trying to prevent. Imagine Sansa standing rightfully and proudly by her husband’s side as he reclaims his title as the Iron Lord, as he supports the Starks with his ships when they need it. Imagine someone remarking how much the both of them have changed for the better and kick asses. And them changing a lot of things and the best part- him still being whole (though he still wakes up sometimes thinking he is Reek, and Sansa has to comofort him). Imagine her being with a child when Theon’s dad dies. Imagine letting Theon hold the baby after it’s born and giving him a name that makes Theon’s heart soar and break. Imagine him kissing her feverently for her support and love.

I think this ship is very plauseable and possibly healthy - depending on the way it’s written - and they’re very compatible for each other in a sense that he has always wanted to belong and to be loved, and she has always wanted  to have someone to love and to stand by. And Theon would respect her. And he might intrigue her, once she starts getting to know him.

This isn’t so much about a love story as it is about fixing things. And the angst of arguably the two people in the entire series who have suffered the most. And the chemistry between Alfie and Sophie. Seriously they’re so cute that you can’t even think up a ship name because it would sound just like their own name- Alphie or Sofie. Maybe Salphie? Anyway do you see all the potential for a theonsa time travel fix back to episode one?!?! Anyone feeling inspired enough to try it? Am I the only one feeling all warm and fuzzy and giddy at the idea of this?

Tywin x Stark!Reader pt. 3

((Here ya go! I hope you all like it! For my first request since my return, I think I did pretty good. I wasn’t too sure what to write for this sooo I just…wrote the first idea that popped into my head that I liked haha))

Pt. 1 and 2:



Word Count: 2,257

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ladysaruka  asked:

Stole his skin back from Roose? Did I miss something?

It’s from the tale of Bael the Bard that Ygritte tells Jon in ACOK. I’ll quote it below but lemme just give some bullet points about Jon that prefaces why I think he’s going to “take his skin back” from Roose:

  1. I have come to accept that Jon’s story is, in large part, a Northern story. Maybe GRRM intends him to be on the Iron Throne in the end, who knows, but I think that Jon is more likely to disclaim any right to the Iron Throne than to ever go south to King’s Landing to rule. Ergo, I think that he’s more than likely going to end up in Winterfell in some capacity or another. It’s my personal opinion that Robb’s will legitimizing him wasn’t a red herring, and is in fact gearing him up to be King in the North (not King’s Landing) because:
  2. Taking #1 into account, I believe that the song of the Bastard of Winterfell largely foreshadows of parts of Jon’s endgame as well as his parentage (the daughter taken by the singer Bael without permission, the blue flower left behind in the bed, the child being a bastard, etc). In addition:
  3. I think that the Kingdoms are going to split back up again, or that the North is going to break away, for a lot of reasons that other people have outlined — that the idea of rule by conquest is wrong, that the targaryens on the throne is wrong because they’re ~foreigners,~ and my own preference: that there’s a sort of narrative beauty in talking about all of these different kingdoms being separated once upon a time during a period of time known as the Age of Heroes, which then ended in a period of warfare and bloodshed. Warfare and bloodshed starting a new Age of Heroes is quite ~poetic~ in my own mind. (Not gonna touch on whether the kingdoms united or separated is better because time/space/energy.)
  4. When reading the quote below, remember that the re-telling of the Bastard of Winterfell takes place in ACOK, before the Red Wedding and before Roose is named Warden in the North and takes up residence in Winterfell. And obvi, the symbol of House Bolton is the flayed man.


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anonymous asked:

This might sound stupid, but wasn't Sansa disinherited by Robb? So wouldn't the line of succession of Winterfell be Bran-Rickon-Arya-Jon? I'm just a tad confused, since I've seen so many fics with Sansa ruling the North, while all her siblings except Robb is still alive. Did I miss something important?

It’s not a stupid question, and it’s one that people get tied in knots about a fair amount.  The answer to it is….complicated, and has to do with my least favorite dangling plot: Robb’s Will.

We first see Sansa’s status as being in the line for Winterfell discussed in A Storm of Swords.  

“It does not always happen the first time.” Though it did with you. “Nor even the hundredth. You are very young.”

“Young, and a king,” he said. “A king must have an heir. If I should die in my next battle, the kingdom must not die with me. By law Sansa is next in line of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her.” His mouth tightened. “To her, and her lord husband. Tyrion Lannister. I cannot allow that. I will not allow that. That dwarf must never have the north.

“No,” Catelyn agreed. “You must name another heir, until such time as Jeyne gives you a son.” She considered a moment. “Your father’s father had no siblings, but his father had a sister who married a younger son of Lord Raymar Royce, of the junior branch. They had three daughters, all of whom wed Vale lordlings. A Waynwood and a Corbray, for certain. The youngest… it might have been a Templeton, but…”

“Mother.” There was a sharpness in Robb’s tone. “You forget. My father had four sons.”

She had not forgotten; she had not wanted to look at it, yet there it was. “A Snow is not a Stark.”

“Jon’s more a Stark than some lordlings from the Vale who have never so much as set eyes on Winterfell.”

“If Jon is a brother of the Night’s Watch, sworn to take no wife and hold no lands. Those who take the black serve for life.

“So do the knights of the Kingsguard. That did not stop the Lannisters from stripping the white cloaks from Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Boros Blount when they had no more use for them. If I send the Watch a hundred men in Jon’s place, I’ll wager they find some way to release him from his vows.”

He is set on this. Catelyn knew how stubborn her son could be. “A bastard cannot inherit.”

Not unless he’s legitimized by a royal decree,” said Robb. “There is more precedent for that than for releasing a Sworn Brother from his oath.

“Precedent,” she said bitterly. “Yes, Aegon the Fourth legitimized all his bastards on his deathbed. And how much pain, grief, war, and murder grew from that? I know you trust Jon. But can you trust his sons? Or their sons? The Blackfyre pretenders troubled the Targaryens for five generations, until Barristan the Bold slew the last of them on the Stepstones. If you make Jon legitimate, there is no way to turn him bastard again. Should he wed and breed, any sons you may have by Jeyne will never be safe.

“Jon would never harm a son of mine.”

“No more than Theon Greyjoy would harm Bran or Rickon?”

Grey Wind leapt up atop King Tristifer’s crypt, his teeth bared. Robb’s own face was cold. “That is as cruel as it is unfair. Jon is no Theon.”

“So you pray. Have you considered your sisters? What of their rights? I agree that the north must not be permitted to pass to the imp, but what of Arya? By law, she comes after Sansa… your own sister, trueborn…

“… and dead. No one has seen or heard of Arya since they cut Father’s head off. Why do you lie to yourself? Arya’s gone, the same as Bran and Rickon, and they’ll kill Sansa too once the dwarf gets a child from her. Jon is the only brother that remains to me. Should I die without issue, I want him to succeed me as King in the North. I had hoped you would support my choice.

“I cannot,” she said. “In all else, Robb. In everything. But not in this… this folly. Do not ask it.”

“I don’t have to. I’m the king.” Robb turned and walked off, Grey Wind bounding down from the tomb and loping after him. (Catelyn, ASOS)

There are a couple of takeaway points from here:

  1. Before Theon took Winterfell, and assuming that everyone did as they were supposed to which–lol Westeros lol–the line of inheritance was as follows:
    1. Bran–>Rickon–>Sansa–>Arya–>Ned’s random Vale cousins
    2. Benjen, presumably, is not considered an heir because of his vows to the Night’s Watch (also his presumed deadness)
    3. Jon is not in the line of succession at all (a point of acute pain for him growing up) because he’s a bastard, and also his vows to the Night’s Watch
  2. This passage is not actually about disinheriting Sansa.  It’s about legitimizing Jon, and putting him before her in the line of succession so that Winterfell does not pass to the Lannisters should something happen to Robb.
    1. Jon–>{Bran}–>{Rickon}–>Sansa–>{Arya}–>Ned’s random Vale cousins (where {} indicates presumed deadness)
  3. The idea, then, would be that Jon would be legitimized and by royal decree freed of his oath to the Night’s Watch and he would then be Robb’s heir until Jeyne bore Robb some sons:
    1. **Robb’s potential sons**–>Jon–>{Bran}–>{Rickon}–>Sansa–>{Arya}–>Ned’s random Vale cousins
  4. Here’s the point of contention: there’s no indication that Sansa was ever removed from the line of succession.  It’s really unclear.  (Darn it, Robb).  To me, the passage reads as though Robb didn’t make a point of disinheriting Sansa so much as legitimizing Jon and naming Jon his heir, which would solve his problems nicely if Jon accepted this, and Sansa would still be treated “fairly” to some extent.  To me, the indication that Robb thinks that Arya’s dead, and even if he didn’t, refused to put her before Sansa in the line of succession means that I think his thought process ended with legitimizing Jon.  He didn’t feel as though he needed to do more than that, since he and Jeyne were shtupping several times a day and she would, theoretically, give him an heir sometime soon.  And also Walder Frey wasn’t going to be a huge fucking asshat.

This gets complicated, given what we know happens in ADWD, where Jon more than once rejects Stannis’ offer to legitimize him and give him Winterfell, saying that Sansa is Robb’s heir.  Now, whether he would handle that offer differently if it came from Robb vs. Stannis, we don’t (yet) know.  But if he is legitimized, he is a contender for the heir of Winterfell.

Which brings up, I suppose, more speculation of who would actually rule:

Jon–legitimized (assuming that he would feel comfortable with taking power he conceives of belonging to his younger siblings, which I don’t think he will, but who knows zombies man)?  Sansa, with the backing of the Vale (and Ned’s random Vale cousins maybe)? Rickon with the backing of White Harbor? Bran and his god powers and everyone thinking of him as Robb’s heir?  No one seems to take Arya into account in this discussion but gurl’s gonna have huge fuckin’ wolf pack so I’m layin’ on the table?  It’s hard to say.

Catelyn’s right in being nervous about it, to some extent: I do think that who will rule Winterfell is going to be a huge point in the next few books, especially as you have Manderly’s sphere of influence rising if he gets Rickon, versus Baelish’s intents for Sansa (which, tbh, who even knows if he actually intends to give her “Harry, the Eyrie, and Winterfell” because the dude is one sneaky motherfucker), versus who knows what zombified Jon is going to do.

What I do hold to be true is this: I don’t actually think that any of the Starks would place their claim over the others’ lives.  I think that those around them will be pushing them to fight, but I don’t actually see them wanting to do this.  Sansa mourns her family and thinks she’s the last Stark and will presumably be thrilled at not being alone in the world; Rickon hasn’t had a united family since he was three; Jon loves all his siblings and remembers them all fondly; Bran loves and is loved by everyone; Arya just wants to go home.  And, of course, there’s this:

Let me tell you something about wolves, child. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Summer is the time for squabbles. In winter, we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths. So if you must hate, Arya, hate those who would truly do us harm.  (Arya II, AGOT)

Which I guess is to say that to me, sure ok, let’s worry about who inherits, but in the long run, I believe that Ned raised his kids well enough to sort it out amongst themselves, and to do so fairly and well, regardless of the political machinations of those around them.

maidsofair  asked:

This might be a silly question, but how did money of the personal variety work in the medieval world? In ASOIAF we follow all these rich aristocrats yet they very rarely seem to actually handle cash. For example, when Sansa arrives in KL she starts dressing in more courtly fashion, implying that she upgraded her wardrobe off page, but how would this work? Does she go to a seamstress, order whatever she wants and the Red Keep gets the bill?

Continued petty cash question: Would she need the approval of the head of the household for more expensive items - say major jewellery or someone like Jaime ordering a new armour? Or what if she wants to buy a lemon cake off a baker in the street? Would whoever is accompanying her just be expected to cover that? How about Margaery always handing out alms? Does she get an allowance?

Hi, these are great questions actually; finance is one of my favorite topics. I’m not a medievalist so I can’t really generalize about the real medieval world, but I can talk specifically about how money is handled in Westeros. 

Short answer: Nobles carry money on them (either personally or on someone in their entourage) if they’re out and about, and they carry more money (in chests) if they’re traveling a great distance or moving their household. Incidental expenditures like roadside food, prostitutes, wagers, donations, and impulse items / trinkets are most likely paid out of pocket with the coin the lord is carrying. Stewards deal with purchasing the day-to-day items necessary for running a household (like food, lamp oil, candles, paper, etc). Most of what the nobility buys is going to be custom made items that will take days / weeks / months to make, and the tradesman is going to send a bill to the steward of the lord’s household. If a lord wants to purchase a horse or some other big, on-the-spot, cash-and-carry expenditure, it’s probably a planned expenditure and the lord will know ahead of time to put enough gold in his purse or have his entourage carry enough gold to cover it. 

Long answer: We actually see many people, including wealthy nobles, handling money in the books. Adults in Westeros, both low and highborn, carry purses if they have coin. For example, Tyrion tells his gaoler Mord in AGOT: “They relieved me of my purse when they captured me, but the gold is still mine.” Tyrion’s purse is a leather pouch with a drawstring, worn on his belt, carrying more gold and silver than one of the smallfolk “could hope to earn in a lifetime”. According to Duncan the Tall, a commoner could live well for a year on “three gold pieces and the rest in silver” (THK). If we assume that the average adult male in Westeros earns a total of three gold dragons per year, and that his working lifetime is approximately 35 years**, that would mean Tyrion was probably carrying around 100 gold dragons, plus some silver. Here is a visual of what 100 gold coins might look like. That amount wouldn’t be too much for Tyrion to carry on his person, but it would be enough that Mord had “golden dragons spilling out of both hands” when Tyrion gave him the purse (but kept the silver). A purse of 100 gold dragons would probably weigh somewhere between .75 pounds and 1.75 pounds, so it could very easily be attached to Tyrion’s belt. 

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Joffrey’s Cousin/Lover Pt. 2

Imagine your pregnancy and the delivery of your child.

(Sooo the request was for Cersei to help the reader through the pregnancy and delivery and I believe to have the reader tand the Queen Regent/Mother get along bbuuuutttt I kind of took some creative liberties and went with what I think Cersei would ACTUALLY act like…I hope you all like it. Sorry if it’s short and more to the point than usual)

(Pt. 1 http://letsasoiaftogether.tumblr.com/post/135661925171/joffreys-cousin-and-lover)

(Word Count: 1,565)

You knew it wasn’t Tyrion who killed Joffrey. You had spent too much of your life in Casterly Rock with Tyrion to know that he would never kill his family, any of his family, despite how much he hated them. You would never say that to the Queen, however. How could you? You were carrying her bastard grandchild. You had slept with the King and conceived his child out of wedlock…you might have been a Lannister but it didn’t stop many people from trying to shun you and call you all sorts of names. It was only after looks from your Uncle Tywin and hissed orders from your cousin, the Queen, that it all stopped and you were left alone.

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margaery tyrell didn’t frame sansa stark for the purple wedding

when discussing the Tyrells and their preparation for the purple wedding, I often see people claiming that they purposefully framed Tyrion and Sansa for Joffrey’s murder. this supposed plot is used as evidence for the villainy of the Tyrells. however, this line of reasoning always makes me scratch my head, at least figuratively, because I cannot figure out why the Tyrells would want to neutralize Tyrion and Sansa. in particular, I can’t figure out why the Tyrells, a family of political opportunists, would want to make the presumed Stark heiress persona non grata of Westeros. if you have a political prize like Sansa on your hands, why would you condemn her as a kingslayer? what possible end does that service?

I know that doesn’t make the Tyrells seem that great, as they’re not seeing Sansa as a person, but as a pawn. And I understand people’s trepidation to ship Sansa with the Tyrells or trust the Tyrells with anything to do with Sansa. but I really, rally hate the idea that the Tyrells purposefully framed Sansa for the Purple Wedding. the way I see it, the Tyrells had two potential guests to frame.

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Like this winter and a sweater

Ship: Jon x Sansa, background Ned/Cat, Robb/Jeyne, Arya/Gendry

‘Why don’t you come with me?’

Jon squints at her, sure he’s misheard.


‘To Winterfell. Why don’t you come with me?

or; Sansa takes pity on Jon and invites him home for the holidays, but there’s one significant catch. 10k. Fake dating. On AO3 if you prefer.

AN: For jonxsansafanfictions winter challenge. The fic is still unfinished but I wanted to get something out before christmas day. Consider this part one of two. 

Jon shoulders open the door to his small apartment and drops his keys into the bowl on the side, stamping the last flakes of snow sticking to his boots free onto his doormat. Outside the streets of Chicago are littered with fairy lights and big baubled christmas trees stand in the lobby of every department store in the city. The walls of Jon and Robb’s flat are bare in comparison, the only blinking light coming from the answering machine down the hall. Jon sighs and shifts his shopping to the kitchen before pressing play on the machine. Just as he expected, Lyanna Snow’s soft voice starts to spiral into the room.

‘Jon? Jon darling, are you there? Robb?… Jon if you’re in, please pick up the phone…. I guess you’re out.’ A sigh crackles down the line. ‘Jon, I just wanted to make sure you haven’t changed your mind. Your father and I would very much like to spend the holiday with you and I miss you, honey. Your father wants to see you. Please, Jon, just think about it. Give me a ring later? Ok, bye for now.’

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