the great sept of baelor


asoiaf meme (minor characters): 6/8 relationships ~ joanna and tywin lannister

Ser Tywin was but twenty, the youngest man ever to serve as Hand, but the manner in which he had dealt with the rising of the Reynes and Tarbecks had made him well respected, even feared, throughout the Seven Kingdoms. His cousin Lady Joanna, the daughter of Lord Tytos’s late brother Ser Jason, was already in King’s Landing; she had been serving as a ladyin-waiting and companion to Rhaella since 259 AC. She and Ser Tywin were married a year after he became Hand of the King in a lavish ceremony at the Great Sept of Baelor, with King Aerys himself presiding over the wedding feast and bedding. // blanca suárez as joanna lannister, lex shrapnel as tywin lannister

Sansa and her “Stark connection”

Since the fandom is always saying how Sansa is not a Real Stark ™    I wanted to  make a post in which I explain why Sansa, born in the Winter (unlike Arya or Bran or Rickon born in the long Summer), in Winterfell (unlike Jon or Robb born in the south) will always be a Stark ( no Lannister or Baelish or whatever…), no matter who she is forced to marry (to survive I might add..). 

 In AGOT Sansa (before her father died, and when she was meant to marry joffrey) is already very proud of her Stark origins. 

Alyn carried the Stark banner. When she saw him rein in beside Lord Beric to exchange words, it made Sansa feel ever so proud.

While prefering The Seven (like her mother) she does admire the poetry of the old gods. 

Besides, even if she could leave the castle, where would she go? It was enough that she could walk in the yard, pick flowers in Myrcella’s garden, and visit the sept to pray for her father. Sometimes she prayed in the godswood as well, since the Starks kept the old gods.

By the time she reached the godswood, the noises had faded to a faint rattle of steel and a distant shouting. Sansa pulled her cloak tighter. The air was rich with the smells of earth and leaf. Lady would have liked this place, she thought. There was something wild about a godswood; even here, in the heart of the castle at the heart of the city, you could feel the old gods watching with a thousand unseen eyes.

While she is called little bird, or little dove (when people want to undermine her), she is called wolf  too.

Tyrion found himself thinking of his wife. Not Sansa; his first wife, Tysha. The whore wife, not the wolf wife.

“Your Grace has forgotten the Lady Sansa,” said Pycelle.

The queen bristled. “I most certainly have not forgotten that little she-wolf.” She refused to say the girl’s name.

And Sansa herself when she is in put  a hard position takes courage in her Stark origins. Its something that gives her  strength:

Do as you’re told, sweetling, it won’t be so bad. Wolves are supposed to be brave, aren’t they?

“Brave. Sansa took a deep breath. I am a Stark, yes, I can be brave.

"Winterfell?” Robert was small for eight, a stick of a boy with splotchy skin and eyes that were always runny. Under one arm he clutched the threadbare cloth doll he carried everywhere.

Winterfell is the seat of House Stark,” Sansa told her husband-to-be. “The great castle of the north.”

“Do you require guarding?” Marillion said lightly. “I am composing a new song, you should know. A song so sweet and sad it will melt even your frozen heart. ‘The Roadside Rose,’ I mean to call it. About a baseborn girl so beautiful she bewitched every man who laid eyes upon her.

I am a Stark of Winterfell, she longed to tell him. Instead she nodded, and let him escort her down the tower steps and along a bridge. 

 Petyr put his arm around her. “What if it is truth he wants, and justice for his murdered lady?” He smiled. “I know Lord Nestor, sweetling. Do you imagine I’d ever let him harm my daughter?

"I am not your daughter, she thought. I am Sansa Stark, Lord Eddard’s daughter and Lady Catelyn’s, the blood of Winterfell.

"As was bringing me here, when you swore to take me home.”She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

I will tell my aunt that I don’t want to marry Robert. Not even the High Septon himself could declare a woman married if she refused to say the vows. She wasn’t a beggar, no matter what her aunt said. She was thirteen, a woman flowered and wed, the heir to Winterfell.

.His seamed and solemn face brought back all of Sansa’s memories of his time at Winterfell. She remembered him at table, speaking quietly with her mother. She heard his voice booming off the walls when he rode back from a hunt with a buck behind his saddle. She could see him in the yard, a practice sword in hand, hammering her father to the ground and turning to defeat Ser Rodrik as well. He will know me. How could he not? She considered throwing herself at his feet to beg for his protection. He never fought for Robb, why should he fight for me?

From the high battlements of the gatehouse, the whole world spread out below them. Sansa could see the Great Sept of Baelor on Visenya’s hill, where her father had died. At the other end of the Street of the Sisters stood the fire-blackened ruins of the Dragonpit. To the west, the swollen red sun was half-hidden behind the Gate of the Gods. The salt sea was at her back, and to the south was the fish market and the docks and the swirling torrent of the Blackwater Rush. And to the north …She turned that way, and saw only the city, streets and alleys and hills and bottoms and more streets and more alleys and the stone of distant walls. Yet she knew that beyond them was open country, farms and fields and forests, and beyond that, north and north and north again, stood Winterfell.

but personally my favorite line about Sansa being always a Stark and belonging North in Winterfell  (Never a Lannister! , no matter who she marries) is this quote by Ned: 

When it was over, he said, “Choose four men and have them take the body north. Bury her at Winterfell.”

“All that way?” Jory said, astonished.

“All that way,” Ned affirmed. “The Lannister woman shall never have this skin.

Sansa whole story (to me) is about her journey retaking her Stark origins which were stolen from her in the worst of way, just like they killed her wolf Lady. But just like Lady remains, Sansa place is and always will be in the north, as a Stark of Winterfell. 

The Kraken’s Arms: Euron Greyjoy x Reader

Originally posted by proinsiascassidy

You are the last surviving child of Cersei and Robert’s only true heir. Having Tomman passed, you decided you didn’t want the crown, handed it to your mother and stand by her side at all times. With war coming, your mother has to make allies and the only way to make allies, is with marriage.

(Y/N) = Your Name 

***If you’re blonde, just imagine dirty blonde because you have darker colored hair in this*** 


Warning: Maybe smut?????? SHHhHHhhhHHH.  

Your mother, never looked better on the Iron Throne. You knew you were never fit to sit on it, rule over everyone when so many people were against you and your house. The last surviving Baratheon child of Cersei Lannister and Robert Baratheon. 

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Truth (Jonerys Fanfiction)

Summary: Jon learns the truth, and Daenerys comforts him.

This was a joy to write


Home, the smell of snow landing on forest greenery. The smell of animals running through the ferns and trees of the forests surrounding Winterfell. Winter. It was finally here and Jon felt like he could breath again. He didn’t like the south; it smelt funny and it was too warm. Though Jon never removed his winter furs; he didn’t show weakness to the Lannister Queen. But now; laying in the old chambers he had while growing up a bastard of Winterfell; chambers he was sharing with Dany, he felt at peace. 

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Sansa and Sandor and Jon and Ygritte - Why Understanding the Connections in their Stories Could Help Explain What is to Come

Originally posted by thegotdaily

So I joined Tumblr about 4 years ago with the intent to blog about A Song of Ice and Fire, one of my favorite book series but because of life and other things, never really got around to it.  Now as the show is winding down and diverging so much from the novels, I thought I would post my thoughts about where I think the major stories in the books maybe headed.  A couple of these theories I’ve recently posted in response to discussions on other sites but I wanted a place to put them down all in one place.

To start off, I’m going to discuss Sansa and Jon as I think their stories are strongly connected and will have repercussions on the final battle for the dawn.  And I’m going to begin with why I think Sansa is a greenseer.


As we know, Sansa’s direwolf, Lady was killed and so that bond was never able to fully developed, as was the case with the other Stark children and their wolves.  Then she lost her father to beheading, was beaten multiple times on the orders of Joffrey and had to literally fight to survive in the cesspool that is Kings Landing using nothing but her wits.  The fact that she was able to make it through with such strong odds against her speak to her inner strength.  However, I think that these same traumas are what helped to develop her as yet unrecognized warging and green seer abilities.

Stressful situations seem to help to open the “third eye” of individuals with potential warging and or green seer abilities.  Think of Dany in the House of the Undying; Bran being pushed out the window; or Arya being blinded by the Faceless men.  What helped these three with their awakening was their bond with their dragons and direwolves respectively as well as the shade of the evening, given to Dany in the House of the Undying by Pyat Preet, Jojen paste given to Bran by the Children; and the “special” candle lit for Arya by the Faceless men.

You’re probably saying to yourself, what is she talking about? Sansa has no warging or green seer abilities.  Well, I’m here to argue that she does and I’ll tell you why I think this—her wishes and thoughts that came true or are about to come true…all without her knowing.  What do you think the odds are that so many of her wishes and thoughts would actually happen?  I think they are coming true because Sansa, like Bran is having green seer dreams, only she is not recognizing them as such and probably were initially forgetting most of content.  Think about these examples…

Sansa thinks, “I want a knight to cut off Jonas Slynt’s head” and later without her knowing, Jon does just that. She also thinks that Cersei eyes are bright with a feverish heat. “Eyes like wildfire,” Sansa thought.  She tells Dontos that she wants the Sept of Baelor to burn.  Well, it hasn’t happen yet in the books but I’m pretty sure that like on the show, Cersei will use wildfire to burn the Sept of Baelor and possibly all of Kings Landing.  (I also suspect that this is one of the 4 major plot points that George told D&D would take place in the books).  Also, as Sansa is entering the Sept of Baelor to pray prior to the Battle of the Blackwater, she thinks that the man walking next to her is a “guard, whose watch has ended,” which totally hints at what will happen to Jon.

In addition, as she makes her way down the mountains with Sweet Robin, a cold wind blows and it is described as “howling fiercely.”  To Sansa, it sounds like a wolf but not just any wolf. To her, the wind sounds like “a ghost wolf big as mountains.”  Interesting analogy don’t you think.  I think it’s another tip to her green seer abilities as she is probably sensing Jon’s death.  However, I think that it also hints at one of two things. Ghost will be in the mountains around the Eyrie at some point and where there’s Ghost, there you will find Jon. Or, Ghost is dead because he was the sacrifice to bring Jon back (death must pay for life) and it’s Jon, returned from the dead as a symbolic ghost who will be in the Eyrie.

If I’m right about Sansa’s abilities, and I think that there is a very strong chance that I am, then she has to be extremely strong…as powerful or maybe even stronger than Bran if given the proper training.  I say this because she has been able to develop her abilities even though her direwolf was killed.  Second and more importantly, she seems to be gaining control of her dreams and be able to go where she wants—something Bran is now learning under the tutelage of the Three Eye Crow.  Why do I think this you ask?  Well, in the last Alayne chapter from AFOC, she plans to curl up under her feathered covers and have one of her “sweet dreams.”  As most people can’t control what types of dreams they have, it’s telling that Sansa seems able to plan hers in advance.  Speaking of sweet dreams lets move on to…


You are probably wondering what do Jon and Ygritte have to do with Sandor and Sansa.  Well, I think that their stories and intricately tied to each other.  I’m going to give a brief summary of some chapters to support my theory but to get the full effect of what I think GRRM has done, you have to read the chapters side by side for yourself.

A Clash of Kings


Sansa goes to meet Dontos in the Godswood for the first time and is caught by the Hound on the way back.  She lies and says that she was praying for her father and Joffrey’s safety.  The Hound doesn’t really believe her but asks her to sing him a “song”. She says that she knows a song about Florian and Jonquil but the Hound doesn’t want to hear a song about a fool.


Joffrey has Ser Boros beat Sansa because of the loss of the Lannister army to Robb at Lannisport.  He then orders Boros to strip her nude in front of everyone but Tyrion comes in and stops it before her clothing can be completely ripped off.  He orders someone to cover her and the Hound throws his “white” kings guard cloak to her.  She uses it to cover herself and even though the material is rough, to her it feels like velvet because of the protection it offers her.

Originally posted by novecientosonce

JON VI (in which he meets Ygritte)

Chapter starts out with Jon and Qhorin Halfhand and their ranger party spying a fire in the night on a mountain in the Skirling Pass.  It burned redder than any star and did not twinkle and they recognize it a fire lit by the Wildings for warmth as they watch the pass.  Halfhand orders Jon and Stonesnake to climb the mountain and kill the watchers.  When they reach the top of the mountain, they discovered three watchers.  One with red hair was asleep; one was feeding twigs to the fire and the other standing watching the pass with a horn ready to blow in warning if he saw anyone attempting to pass through the mountains.  Stonesnake attacked the wilding with the horn while Jon went after the one at the fire.  This turned out to be Orel, the skin changer.  When Jon attacked, Orel grabbed a burning brand, which he thrust at Jon’s face. It barely missed and would have burned Jon in the face if he didn’t quickly jump back.  (Note symbolism of a possible burnt face). Jon saw the figure under the blankets stirring and knew he had to kill his opponent quickly before the other came into play.  He was able to swing sword and pretty much severed the wilding in the stomach. However, the wilding took Longclaw with him when he fell and so Jon quickly pulled his knife and was able to grab the redhead by the hair and put the dirk to her throat.  It was only then that he realized she was a girl.  Stonesnake told Jon to kill her but before he could, Ygritte yielded.

You can read the chapter yourself to pick up more details.  However, in addition to Ygritte’s red hair, there are three other things on importance in this scene to note. First is that Ygritte told Jon that she would sing him the “song” of the Winter Rose, which is a song about how the Wilding lord Bael the Bard stole the daughter of one of the Kings of Winter.  Note that song does not always mean singing but sometimes simply to tell a story.  The second thing is that when Qhorin climbed the mountain the next morning, he ordered Jon to kill Ygritte and walked away to leave him to it.  Jon puts “Longclaw to her neck” to mark where the sword would fall but as he looks at her, he thinks of his father and could not kill her.  We also find out later that the man Jon killed was the skin changer Orel and his spirit jumped into his eagle when he died.  Oh, and GRRM makes a point to note that Jon hadn’t shaved since he left the Fist of the First Men (will get into the importance of this later) and Jon describes Ygritte’s breath of smelling like onion.

Originally posted by landaburst3010

SANSA IV (immediately follows JON VI)

As with Jon, Sansa’s chapter opens with her watching a fire, only this time it was the fire Tyrion set to burn the docks before Stannis arrived.  Sansa is on her way to the Godswood to meet Dontos.  While talking to Dontos, she says that she hopes the great Sept of Baelor burns and he tells her not so say so as the gods may hear her.  After leaving him, she heads back to her room.  However, when she got to the doors to her room, she couldn’t enter because being inside made her feel trapped.  She turns and goes up the steps to the top of the castle where she looks out over the Red Keep and pretty much all of Kings Landing.  She also gets a sudden pain in her stomach and almost collapses but a hand suddenly reaches out and catches her and it turns out to be the Hound.

When Sansa tries to thank the Hound for previously rescuing her, he makes fun of her girlish fantasies about knights. He tells her that all men are killers and even her father was one.  She tells him that her father only killed because it was his duty, not because he liked it.  (Her sentiment probably echoes what Jon is probably feeling in his chapter).  Anyhow, the Hound then lays the edges of his long sword against Sansa’s neck and tells her all about his first kill and about the real life of a knight. (In Jon’s chapter, he puts his sword to Ygritte’s neck)  Sansa runs away from the Hound and that night has multiple nightmarish dreams.  She dreams of the riot where she was attacked and pulled from her horse and also of twisted faces with monstrous inhuman masks.  The breath of the man who pulls her from the horse “smells like garlic” (A similar smell to onions). She cries for her brothers and fathers and prays to the gods for one of the knightly heroes from her song to come and save her but no one answered.  She also dreams of women attacking her and someone hitting her in the face which made her “teeth shatter.” (More to come on the shattered teeth later) In her dreams, she sees a glint of silver and someone “stabs her in the stomach.”  She wakes in the morning to evidence that her first moon blood has started and she tries to burn the evidence but is caught by the servants who report it to Cersei.  While the knife in the stomach could have been a hint of her first moons blood, I think it was also a green seer dream and along with the vision of the masks and monstrous faces could be the same the Mellisandre and Aeron saw in their visions and will turn out to be important later.

JON VII (Immediately following Sansa IV)

Not going to go into this chapter in much detail except to note that Jon has a wolf dream and while in Ghost, he is attacked by Orel in his eagle form.  When this happens, Jon is kicked out of Ghost.  They are now discovered by the Wildings and must run.  This is also the first but not the last time that Orel in eagle form will attack Jon.


Two things of note… Sansa is ordered to the Queens Ballroom where she is to stay with Cersei and the other ladies of the court while the Battle of Blackwater takes place outside.  Ser Illyn who chopped of Ned’s head is also in the room with the ladies and when Sansa asks why he’s there, Cersei lies that he’s there to protect them.  And Sansa’s thought at that moment is “I would be gladder if it were the Hound.”  Harsh as he was, she did not believe Sandor Clegane would let any harm come to her. “  This is the first time that Sansa has any true positive thoughts about the Hound as she was always afraid of him previously and could only see the ugliness of his face.  Of note is that the writers of the show had Sansa say something very similar to Brienne about Jon on the show.  “Jon is Jon. He would never let any harm come to me.”


Sansa goes back to her room after leaving the Queens Ballroom.  This is at the point before Tywin arrives and everyone thinks the battle is lost.  In her room, she cries for Lady and wonders if she will see her wolf again if she dies.  Then someone reaches out and grabs her wrist and it’s the Hound.  He had come to her room and fallen asleep there.  He tells her that if she screams, he will kill her.  He tells her about the battle and that he’s leaving.  He says that he’s there for the “song” (again a reference to a song) she promised him.  She tells him that she can’t; he’s scaring her and to let her go.  He then says that everything scares her and demands that she look at him.  However, she becomes even more afraid.  He says that he can protect her as everyone is afraid of him and asks her to come with him.  He pulls her closer and she thinks he means to kiss her and closes her eyes.  This makes him even angrier and he pushes her on the bed and pulls his knife and puts it at her throat…demanding she sing him his song about Florian and Jonquil.  (Now Sansa has a knife held to her throat the way Jon held one on Ygritte) She’s too afraid to remember the words and instead recites a prayer to the mother to protect the sons of war.  The Hound takes the knife away from her throat and some instinct makes her reach up and cups his cheek with her fingers where she feels the blood on his face (from the battle) and also his tears.  Sansa wonders why she touched his face and we will get to an explanation later.  He calls her  “little bird” once more in a soft voice, whips off his white Kings Guard cloak, and throws it on the floor and leaves.   She crawls out of the bed, see the cloak on the floor, “the white wool stained with “blood and fire.”  Curious that Martin used the Targaryen words to described the stain on the white (snow) cloak.  Also, interesting that they had Sansa make Jon a cloak on the show.  It’s not white but you can certainly connect that scene with this one from the books.


Ygritte and the Wildings capture Qhorin and Jon.  Jon Kills Qhorin on his orders and begins his infiltration of the Wildings.

Now as you can see from the ACOK chapters, Sansa and Ygritte had both a knife and a sword drawn against their necks.  Fire also played a role in a few of the chapters and Jon is almost burned in the face like the Hound.  Could Martin have written these similarities just as happenstance?  I don’t think so as he does nothing without a reason. If you still don’t think that Jon and Sansa’s stories and intricately and deliberately connected— lets move on to ASOS to see if further evidence will convince you but first, lets talk about the symbolism and mythology behind numbers and their usage in ASOIAF.

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Stark girls stand up against bullies


Mycah shook his head. “It’s only a stick, m’lord. It’s not no sword, it’s only a stick.”

“And you’re only a butcher’s boy, and no knight.” Joffrey lifted Lion’s Tooth and laid its point on Mycah’s cheek below the eye, as the butcher’s boy stood trembling. “That was my lady’s sister you were hitting, do you know that?” A bright bud of blood blossomed where his sword pressed into Mycah’s flesh, and a slow red line trickled down the boy’s cheek.

“Stop it!” Arya screamed. She grabbed up her fallen stick.

Sansa was afraid. “Arya, you stay out of this.”

“I won’t hurt him… much,” Prince Joffrey told Arya, never taking his eyes off the butcher’s boy.

Arya went for him.

Sansa slid off her mare, but she was too slow. Arya swung with both hands. There was a loud crack as the wood split against the back of the prince’s head, and then everything happened at once before Sansa’s horrified eyes. Joffrey staggered and whirled around, roaring curses. Mycah ran for the trees as fast as his legs would take him. Arya swung at the prince again, but this time Joffrey caught the blow on Lion’s Tooth and sent her broken stick flying from her hands. The back of his head was all bloody and his eyes were on fire. Sansa was shrieking, “No, no, stop it, stop it, both of you, you’re spoiling it,” but no one was listening. Arya scooped up a rock and hurled it at Joffrey’s head. She hit his horse instead, and the blood bay reared and went galloping off after Mycah. “Stop it, don’t, stop it!” Sansa screamed. Joffrey slashed at Arya with his sword, screaming obscenities, terrible words, filthy words. Arya darted back, frightened now, but Joffrey followed, hounding her toward the woods, backing her up against a tree. Sansa didn’t know what to do. She watched helplessly, almost blind from her tears.

-Sansa I, A Game of Thrones


By then the crowd was howling with laughter… all but the king. Joffrey had a look in his eyes that Sansa remembered well, the same look he’d had at the Great Sept of Baelor the day he pronounced death on Lord Eddard Stark. Finally Ser Dontos the Red gave it up for a bad job, sat down in the dirt, and removed his plumed helm. “I lose,” he shouted. “Fetch me some wine.”

The king stood. “A cask from the cellars! I’ll see him drowned in it.”

Sansa heard herself gasp. “No, you can’t.”

Joffrey turned his head. “What did you say?”

Sansa could not believe she had spoken. Was she mad? To tell him no in front of half the court? She hadn’t meant to say anything, only… Ser Dontos was drunk and silly and useless, but he meant no harm.

“Did you say I can’t? Did you?”

“Please,” Sansa said, “I only meant… it would be ill luck, Your Grace… to, to kill a man on your name day.”

“You’re lying,” Joffrey said. “I ought to drown you with him, if you care for him so much.”

“I don’t care for him, Your Grace.” The words tumbled out desperately. “Drown him or have his head off, only… kill him on the morrow, if you like, but please… not today, not on your name day. I couldn’t bear for you to have ill luck… terrible luck, even for kings, the singers all say so…

Joffrey scowled. He knew she was lying, she could see it. He would make her bleed for this.

-Sansa I, A Clash of Kings


“Sometimes the knights are the monsters, Bran. The little crannogman was walking across the field, enjoying the warm spring day and harming none, when he was set upon by three squires. They were none older than fifteen, yet even so they were bigger than him, all three. This was their world, as they saw it, and he had no right to be there. They snatched away his spear and knocked him to the ground, cursing him for a frogeater.”

“Were they Walders?” It sounded like something Little Walder Frey might have done.

“None offered a name, but he marked their faces well so he could revenge himself upon them later. They shoved him down every time he tried to rise, and kicked him when he curled up on the ground. But then they heard a roar. ‘That’s my father’s man you’re kicking, howled the she-wolf.”

“A wolf on four legs, or two?”

“Two,” said Meera. “The she-wolf laid into the squires with a tourney sword, scattering them all. The crannogman was bruised and bloodied, so she took him back to her lair to clean his cuts and bind them up with linen. There he met her pack brothers: the wild wolf who led them, the quiet wolf beside him, and the pup who was youngest of the four.

-Bran II, A Storm of Swords

#EliaMartellWeek Day 2 - Elia and Rhaegar

In early 279 AC, Princess Elia Martell and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen were betrothed. They married a year later, in 280 AC in a lavish ceremony at the Great Sept of Baelor in King’s Landing. Rhaegar moved their residence to Dragonstone shortly after their wedding, where later in 280 AC, Rhaegar and Elia’s first child, Princess Rhaenys was born. 

mrsjadecurtiss  asked:

one thing i find peculiar is that ghosts are mentioned in asoiaf (ghost of harrenhal, theon as the ghost of winterfell, etc); but are there ever any "actual" ghosts? like do ghosts or other guidance from the past canonically exist, or are they just something people believe in like in reallife? I'm leaning towards the latter, but I'm curious what I might've missed when reading.

Just stories about ghosts – as we’ve never actually seen any on page live (so to speak) in a POV, we can’t be sure they’re real. Though there’s a kind of might-have-been, where GRRM wrote a Tyrion chapter where he met the Shrouded Lord when pulled underwater at the Sorrows, but then tossed it out (probably because of his preference of keeping the presence of gods and other supernatural beings subtle and indirect) and replaced it with a nightmare instead.

As for guidance from the past, there are the Old Gods, who are canonically a group mind of greenseers bound to weirwood trees – and we know from Bran’s experience that he can reach out to the past and the present – so perhaps a greenseer reaching out to the future is also possible. They have visions of the future, so why not be able to talk to the people in the future too? (Who would experience it as a visit from the past.) Time is an illusion, to a tree all times are one.

Also, there are odd dreams of the dead that may have a level of reality to them:

That night he dreamt that he was back in the Great Sept of Baelor, still standing vigil over his father’s corpse. The sept was still and dark, until a woman emerged from the shadows and walked slowly to the bier. “Sister?” he said.
But it was not Cersei. She was all in grey, a silent sister. A hood and veil concealed her features, but he could see the candles burning in the green pools of her eyes. “Sister,” he said, “what would you have of me?” His last word echoed up and down the sept, mememememememememememe.
“I am not your sister, Jaime.” She raised a pale soft hand and pushed her hood back. “Have you forgotten me?”
Can I forget someone I never knew? The words caught in his throat. He did know her, but it had been so long…
“Will you forget your own lord father too? I wonder if you ever knew him, truly.” Her eyes were green, her hair spun gold. He could not tell how old she was. Fifteen, he thought, or fifty. She climbed the steps to stand above the bier. “He could never abide being laughed at. That was the thing he hated most.”
“Who are you?” He had to hear her say it.
“The question is, who are you?”
“This is a dream.”
“Is it?” She smiled sadly. “Count your hands, child.”
One. One hand, clasped tight around the sword hilt. Only one. “In my dreams I always have two hands.” He raised his right arm and stared uncomprehending at the ugliness of his stump.
“We all dream of things we cannot have. Tywin dreamed that his son would be a great knight, that his daughter would be a queen. He dreamed they would be so strong and brave and beautiful that no one would ever laugh at them.”
“I am a knight,” he told her, “and Cersei is a queen.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. The woman raised her hood again and turned her back on him. Jaime called after her, but already she was moving away, her skirt whispering lullabies as it brushed across the floor. Don’t leave me, he wanted to call, but of course she’d left them long ago.

–AFFC, Jaime VII

Was Jaime given a true dream, a visit from his mother’s spirit? Or is his subconscious merely accepting the truth of his lost hand, and projecting his confusion about his identity into his mother’s words? We don’t know. I’m not sure if it’s important that we know. The mystery and ambiguity may be what’s the most important thing here. (See also the question of how real Jaime’s cave dream of Rhaegar and the Kingsguard was, and the question of why Jaime has these true dreams to begin with.)

But since GRRM is deliberately increasing the level of magic throughout the series – and we do know for a fact that the dead can be resurrected – we may eventually get indisputable proof of the existence of ghosts, too. We’ll just have to see…


House Lannister Free

The State of House Lannister

Jaime, having previously been forced to retire as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard by King Tommen, and now commander of the Lannister army, returns to King’s Landing to discover that Cersei is now Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. During his absence, Cersei plotted with Qyburn to blow up the Great Sept of Baelor, killing the High Sparrow, the Faith Militant, Queen Margaery, Ser Loras Tyrell, Lord Mace Tyrell, and Kevan Lannister, the Hand of the King. King Tommen committed suicide in the wake of the destruction. Cersei’s coronation means that House Lannister is now the royal house of the Seven Kingdoms. Across the Narrow Sea, Tyrion Lannister is appointed Hand of the Queen by Daenerys Targaryen, and will follow Queen Daenerys in her attempt to take back the Seven Kingdoms. 

Powerful - Jaime Lannister (Part Two)

After losing his children, his family, he couldn’t lose you. However, leaving with you also meant angering an already testy Queen. Cersei had turned vile with her new found power; her heart tormented by the same loss that plagued Jaime himself. Whatever path he chose lead to danger; but whatever path he chose also shone with the hope of possible love.

Part One

Originally posted by diver5ion

The halls of the Red Keep had become all too familiar to Jaime’s eyes. He longed to ride West, with you beside him, and pay a visit to Casterly Rock. After all that had happened, Jaime thought he deserved a rest from the horrid politics of King’s Landing. Let Qyburn aid his sister in the trying times to come while he returned home.

Jaime’s desire to go home was soon replaced by a different want. He looked up at The Mountain, who stood outside Cersei’s door. From the open spots for his field of vision, the pale purple skin surrounding the late Gregor’s blood shot eyes was visible. Under the creature’s gaze, Jaime tried his best to seem unintimidated.

“I wish to see my sister,” Jaime said strongly. Silently, The Mountain moved away from the door and let Jaime push through. As he glanced around the room, Jaime saw no sign of his beloved sister anywhere. Papers were scattered on her desk; letters and pleads alike. Jaime looked over his shoulder briefly, his eyes landing on The Mountain, who loomed in the doorway.

Turning away from the desk, Jaime walked out towards the balcony. He stood in the entrance when he saw his sister looking out to where the Great Sept of Baelor once stood. A chill ran down his spine at Cersei’s reflective silence. Burn them all, the Mad King had said. His long lasting order had finally come to fruition.

“All of our enemies,” she whispered, “gone in one spark.” Jaime shook his head and Cersei turned to face him. Her green eyes were serious, yet joyful all at once. “The Targaryen girl will fall. She is young and foolish. As mad as her father if she thinks she can walked into a lion’s den unscathed.” Jaime smiled at his sister’s ferocity, but knew that The Last Dragon still posed a threat to Cersei’s new found power.

“She has the backing of House Tyrell and the whole of Dorne. Does that not frighten you in the least?” Cersei stiffened at his words, holding her chin high. Jaime looked her dead in the eye, waiting for her answer. A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ would tell him more than a lengthy conversation. His sister’s eyes narrowed at him, as if challenging him.

“They are no threat to us,” she said coldly. Jaime’s blood ran cold. Cersei without fear was perhaps more dangerous than when she was cornered. It was the Mad King, the man Jaime killed, that feared nothing. That fought and killed without thought of the price.

“No threat to you,” Jaime corrected. “What of the North, the Stark bastard doesn’t frighten you?” Cersei stepped towards him, her face a mere inches from his own. Jaime clenched his jaw, fighting against the closeness.

“All the Knights in the Vale don’t scare me,” Cersei hissed. “For I am the Queen of The Seven Kingdoms. I have nothing to fear.” She leaned closer, reaching a hand up to trace his jaw. Before she could place her lips on his, Jaime backed away.

“A ruler that acts without fear is no leader at all. Aerys feared only the voices in his head.” Cersei’s gaze enflamed at his words. Jaime had only seen such angry in her eyes when Tyrion was on trial for Joffrey’s murder and when he aided in his little brother’s escape. Her hate had turned her inside out and dressed her in darkness.

“How dare you speak to your Queen, your sister, like that.” Jaime frowned but didn’t move any further. Silence fell over them, neither of them wavering.

“How dare you speak to Y/N as you did,” Jaime countered. “She has been loyal to our family for ages. She mourned our children at our your sides, mourned our father. Despite it all, you treat her like she’s nothing to us.”

“She’s nothing to me,” Cersei seethed, “it is you she cared for, not I.” Jaime let out a breath, knowing Cersei’s words were true. Y/N tolerated his sister, cared for her only to make things easier for herself; not a true friend. Cersei hardly ever had any friends, even as a child.

“She is a trusted ally, nonetheless,” Jaime responded. “To make sure it stays that way, I will be accompanying her to the Westerlands.” Cersei’s nostrils flared with rage at his words; and for the first time, Jaime took pride in her fury.

“Go then,” Cersei spat, ‘go and wed her at Casterly Rock. Bed her and make heirs with a vassal house girl.” Jaime felt his blood boil at her words towards you. He turned away, taking long a long stride towards the door before Cersei called out.

“If you have any love for me, any love for our lost children, you will stay in King’s Landing at my side.” Jaime stopped and turned to glance over his shoulder. His eyes locked with his sister, but he didn’t see the woman he loved. She would be nearing the gates of King’s Landing by now; he had to go if he were to make it in time.

“I loved my children,” Jaime said sadly, “my greatest wish was to be a father to them. But you, and your thirst for power, doomed them before I had the chance.” Cersei swallowed hard, but Jaime continued. “My love for you faded when you murdered the people I was sworn to protect. You killed our son’s wife and he died due to grief. Your hands are just as bloody as my own.” With that, Jaime stormed out of Cersei’s room and down the hall. His gold, Lannister armor clinking as he left Cersei in her dark gown; the desire to be hers fading from his heart.

You gently patted your horse’s neck, it’s soft fur hiding the strong muscle underneath. A few smallfolk filled your cart with armor and swords, for the ranks of men in the West. While this trip was a supply run, it doubled as a diplomatic mission to deal with House Lefford. The Golden Tooth castle was home to the unruly house; they often quarreled with House Lannister despite being under the lion’s boot. The Riverlords still held a fighting spirit.

“She’s a fine beast,” you turned your head and your heart skipped a beat. Jaime stood before you, his head cocked to the side with a soft smile on his features. Your thoughts of the ordeal at hand passed when you met his eyes. You walked up to him, looking up at him earnestly. “I hope that there is some way you can forgive all the times I looked over you. I wanted to tell you that I-”

You silenced him by wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms found a resting place around your waist, holding you close to his larger frame. Jaime buried his face in the crook of your neck, closing his eyes. After a long minute, your arms fell and your hands held the back of his neck. Jaime moved, leaning back to stare into your face.

“I have loved you for years, Jaime,” you whispered. “There is nothing to forgive, nothing at all.” The corner of Jaime’s mouth quirked upwards at your words. “I shouldn’t have made you choose, that was wrong of me.” you had more to say, things you wanted to make clear, but now it was your turn to be silenced. Jaime’s arms tightened around your waist, pulling your body flush against his own. His left hand moved up to your face, his palm brushing against your cheek. The tenderness in his warm touch made you melt.

“A woman should never apologize for being strong, for being powerful.” You smiled up at him and Jaime’s eyes said it all. He brought your face to his, capturing your lips in his. You hummed into kiss, your eyes shutting instinctively. The kiss was all you had dreamed of, the years of imagining what it would be like did not do it justice.

When he parted from your lips, you longed to return back to that moment; but Jaime seemed to have other ideas. He moved his hand back from your face to your middle and lifted you onto your horse. You smiled down at him as rested his hand against your hip.

“We have a long ride ahead us, my lady. We should be going.” You frowned, wishing to kiss him once more but you were high up to reach him. Jaime seemed to note this and grabbed your hand. “Once we reach Casterly Rock, there will be more time for that.”

“Yes there shall.” Jaime grinned at you, bringing your hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the back of it, a lingering kiss. When he pulled away, there was a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“And as the Lord of Casterly Rock, I will need a true Lady. Perhaps there will be time for a wedding as well.” You felt heat climb to your cheeks, blushing a  deep red. “Would that please you, prove it to you?”

“It would, ser Jaime,” you teased. “Yet, don’t think for a moment I’ll surrender to being simply your wife.” Jaime shook his head with a grin on his lips.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my darling.” Jaime walked over to his dark stallion, hopping on it’s back. He knead it gently and the horse rode up next to yours. “You join the ranks of the mighty Lannister women and they will hear your roar.”

You smiled and kicked at your horse, sending it forward. You started after the cart of supplies. Soon, Jaime followed suit, happy to be rid of the Red Keep and the dark memories that still cling to the crimson bricks. He glanced over at you, smiling at you; and if he had ever been happy, it would be in that moment he was happiest.

anonymous asked:

Do you think Sansa will ever return home or see WF again? Also do you think Sansa will live in WF after the story in the books finishes? Do you have any thoughts on her endgame?

Oh, absolutely. I’m very confident that Sansa will return to Winterfell at one point. Her story trajectory has always been about her finding her way back to her home and reclaiming her Stark identity and connection. Sansa’s arc, from the point of Ned’s death, has had Winterfell at its heart, that yearning for home that Sansa keeps dreaming of; the comfort and safety of Winterfell that she prays for continuously.

I pray for Robb’s victory and Joffrey’s death … and for home. For Winterfell.  

That was such a sweet dream, Sansa thought drowsily. She had been back in Winterfell, running through the godswood with her Lady. Her father had been there, and her brothers, all of them warm and safe. If only dreaming could make it so …  

From the high battlements of the gatehouse, the whole world spread out below them. Sansa could see the Great Sept of Baelor on Visenya’s hill, where her father had died. At the other end of the Street of the Sisters stood the fire-blackened ruins of the Dragonpit. To the west, the swollen red sun was half-hidden behind the Gate of the Gods. The salt sea was at her back, and to the south was the fish market and the docks and the swirling torrent of the Blackwater Rush. And to the north …She turned that way, and saw only the city, streets and alleys and hills and bottoms and more streets and more alleys and the stone of distant walls. Yet she knew that beyond them was open country, farms and fields and forests, and beyond that, north and north and north again, stood Winterfell.

She awoke all at once, every nerve atingle. For a moment she did not remember where she was. She had dreamt that she was little, still sharing a bedchamber with her sister Arya. But it was her maid she heard tossing in sleep, not her sister, and this was not Winterfell, but the Eyrie. And I am Alayne Stone, a bastard girl. The room was cold and black, though she was warm beneath the blankets. Dawn had not yet come. Sometimes she dreamed of Ser Ilyn Payne and woke with her heart thumping, but this dream had not been like that. Home. It was a dream of home.  

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Words of Steam

Words: 1175

Originally posted by lannistersdaily

Tyrion was looking absorbedly at the steamed up mirror in front of him. He raised a dripping finger, tracing damp letters with a disenchanted expression.
It was a game from his childhood. When the vapours of the piping hot water of the tub revealed the cruel insults of his sister. He then quickly stood up and with frenetic moves ran his fingers on those words of hate, the eyes burning.

Many moons had passed since those mean jokes by that time, but he still remembered each word. He was a different person now, he was a man, and he had learned to despise the features the steam was hiding.
With flabby, almost weak gestures, he traced the last letters, then left the small moist room.

“I love you, my wife”.

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Women in Ice Cells: The Lioness

In the last installment of Women in Ice Cells, we talked about Elia Martell. Today, we’re going to be skipping to the other side of the mountains to Joanna Lannister: wife of Tywin Lannister, mother to Cersei, Jaime and Tyrion, Lady of Casterly Rock. Like many of the Dead Ladies Club, Joanna died in childbirth, while giving birth to Tyrion. There’s something to be said about the fact that so many of these women die in childbirth–an implicitly gendered death–but that is a discussion that deserves its own essay. For now, I’m going to be exploring Joanna as a person, and what we can glean about her character from the scant information GRRM gives us.

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House Targaryen is a former Great House of Westeros and was the ruling royal House of the Seven Kingdoms for three centuries, before it was deposed during Robert’s Rebellion and House Baratheon replaced it as the new royal House. The few surviving Targaryens fled into exile. Currently based in Essos, House Targaryen seeks to retake the Seven Kingdoms from House Lannister, who formally replaced House Baratheon as the royal House following the destruction of the Great Sept of Baelor.

The Doctor and His Doll

Authors’ Note: Better late than never!!! Here is my contribution to @yourtropegirl‘s Alternative Coffee Shop AU challenge!!! Originally I planned to have the good doctor meet someone at a thrift shop, and I went through several drafts. It just wasn’t clicking. But then this came to me!!! Hope that you enjoy (and this story might keep going)!!!

Tagging @yourtropegirl, @vintagemichelle91, @mrschiltoncat

At least it was only a seasonal job.

In two months’ time, the space would be transformed into Decked Halls, a store bursting with fiber optic trees, wreaths of every size, and stockings seemingly discarded by a series of giants. Once all the gifts were unwrapped and this year became the next, it would change into The Spirit of Spring. Which was always kind of a cruel joke given the grayest days of winter. Fun in the Sun would rear its head after that with so many sunglasses and towels and displays of sand that tended to stick in shoes and turn one off to the very idea of spending a day at the beach.

But for the moment, it was The Devil’s Den, a business bursting with costumes for men and women, boys and girls, dogs and cats of every size. Add to that decorations for front yards suggesting doors to other dimensions, kettles that brewed dried ice seeming like the misty home of Macbeth’s three witches. When filling out the application, it seemed like such a smart idea. Because autumn was and always had been your favorite time of year, and the hours fit like a glove around your current course load.

It only took one shift of rowdy high school boys who seemed twenty and not three years your junior making rude noises behind the many masks to lift the spell. Add to that the animatronic fortune teller speaking in a loop that only made you want to ask when the world would end, hoping that the answer was tomorrow. Just a few more weeks. You could hack it; you’d been through worse. At least this day was somewhat quiet save for the young mother wanting her daughter to be a butterfly. The lovely little lady kept gravitating to psycho clown. One more reason you were never having children. The two older girls in the back seemed harmless enough while debating which kind of princess they would portray. You could tell them some stories about the pink dress and the violet…

Trying to get lost in your homework, you heard the door open and close without looking up. Footsteps drew nearer… along with a tap that started to grate on your nerves. Lifting the eyes that began to roll in your head, you stopped short of scoffing when you saw him.

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By then the crowd was howling with laughter… all but the king. Joffrey had a look in his eyes that Sansa remembered well, the same look he’d had at the Great Sept of Baelor the day he pronounced death on Lord Eddard Stark

The king stood. “A cask from the cellars! I’ll see him drowned in it.”
Sansa heard herself gasp. “No, you can’t.”

Sansa’s intervention on Ser Dontos’ behalf is fairly significant for her. She has gotten pretty good at suppressing her gut reactions to protest against her treatment, and by the beginning of A Clash of Kings is learning how to avoid abuse by giving Joffrey what he wants. This, along with reminding Joffrey that she saw him cry, are breaks in that pattern. Both put her in danger of being abused, and both served to protect others. Being protective is one of the core traits of the Starks, and each Stark child, as well as Catelyn and Robb are fiercely protective, not only of their friends and family, but also of people they barely know. In this instance, Sansa also draws a direct connection between her father’s execution, and Ser Dontos’ danger. In protesting his death, she is also protesting her father’s death, and the trauma she suffers because of it.

But of course simply protesting is not enough to save Ser Dontos, telling Joffrey not to do something only makes him want to do it more. Sansa has no power Joffrey over Joffrey, and her only option is to manipulate him using her knowledge of him, and using his conception of her–i.e., a stupid, superstitious Northern girl. By claiming it would be bad luck, Sansa is able to backtrack and tur her protest against Joffrey into an appeal for his safety. The initial outburst comes without thinking–she hears herself say it, not thinking first–but she has to think quickly immediately after in order to save both Dontos and herself.