asoiaf book moments that give me heart disease 9
Sunday, 22 March 2020 19:08![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
braintransplant Melisandre's red lips curled into a smile. "I have seen you in my fires, Jon Snow."
"Is that a threat, my lady? Do you mean to burn me too?"
"You mistake my meaning." She gave him a searching look. "I fear that I make you uneasy, Lord Snow."
Jon did not deny it.
"I have seen you in the storm, hard-pressed with enemies on every side. You have so many enemies. Shall I tell you their names?"
"I know their names."
"Do not be so certain." The ruby at Melisandre's throat gleamed red. "It is not the foes who curse you to your face that you must fear, but those who smile when you are looking and sharpen their knives when you turn your back. Ice, I see, and daggers in the dark. Blood frozen red and hard, and naked steel. It was very cold."
"It is always cold on the Wall."
"You think so?"
"I know so, my lady."
"Then you know nothing, Jon Snow," she whispered.
For a moment, Davos was too stunned to move. "Your Grace, you cannot...I am no fit man to be a King's Hand."
"There is no man fitter." Stannis sheathed Lightbringer, gave Davos his hand, and pulled him to his feet.
"I am lowborn," Davos reminded him. "An unjumped smuggler. Your lords will never obey me."
"Then we will make new lords."
"Ser Jaime? I am grateful, but...you were well away. Why come back?"
A dozen quips came to mind, each crueler than the one before, but Jaime only shrugged. "I dreamed of you," he said.
"By law Sansa is next in line of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her." Robb's 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 gather'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."
Donal Noye was working his bellows at the fire. He looked up at the noise. "Jon Snow?"
"None else." Despite fever, exhaustion, his leg, the Magnar, the old man, Ygritte, Mance, despite it all, Jon smiled. It was good to be back, good to see Noye with his big belly and pinned-up sleeve, his jaw bristling with black stubble.
The smith released his grip on the bellows. "Your face..."
He had almost forgotten. "A skinchanger tried to rip out my eye."
Noye frowned. "Scarred or smooth, it's a face I thought I'd seen the last of. We heard you'd gone over to Mance Rayder."
Jon grasped the door to say upright. "Who told you that?"
"Jarman Buckwell. He returned a fortnight past. His scouts claim they saw you with their own eyes, riding along beside the wildling column and wearing a sheepskin cloak." Noye eyed him. "I see the last part's true."
"Your Grace," said Davos, "the cost..."
"I know the cost!" The king moved, so his shadow fell upon King's Landing. "If Joffrey should die...what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?"
"Everything," said Davos softly.
Stannis looked at him, jaw clenched. "Go," the king said at last, "before you talk yourself back into the dungeon."
The archer looked at him a long while before he said, "You're Joffrey's dog."
"My own dog now. Do you want the water?"
"Aye." The man swallowed. "And the mercy. Please." When the water was gone he clutched the helm and licked the steel. "I wish it was wine, though. I wanted wine."
"Me too." The Hound eased his dagger into the man's chest almost tenderly, the weight of his body driving the point through his surcoat, ringmail, and the quilting beeath. As he slid the blade back out and wiped it on the dead man, he looked at Arya. "That's where the heart is, girl. That's how you kill a man."
She dreamt of Joffrey dying, but as he clawed at his throat and the blood ran down across his fingers she saw with horror that it was her brother Robb. And she dreamed of her wedding night, too, of Tyrion's eyes devouring her as she undressed. Only then he was bigger than Tyrion had any right to be, and when he climbed into the bed his face was scarred only on one side. "I'll have a song from you," he rasped, and Sansa woke and found the old blind dog beside her once again.
Jon yanked away and grabbed the knight by the throat with such ferocity that he lifted him off the floor. He would have throttled him if the Eastwatch men had not pulled him off. Thorne staggered back, rubbing the marks Jon's fingers had left on his neck. "You see for yourselves, brothers. The boy is a wildling."
Robert was the true steel. Stannis is a pure iron, black and hard and strong, but brittle, the way iron gets. He'll break before he bends.
He was almost ready to lower his blade and call a halt when Emmett feinted low and came in over his shield with a savage forehand slash that caught Jon on the temple. He staggered, his helm and head both ringing from the force of the blow. For half a heartbeat, the world beyond his eyeslit was a blur.
And then the years were gone, and he was back at Winterfell once more, wearing a quilted leather coat in place of mail and plate. His sword was made of wood, and it was Robb who stood facing him, not Iron Emmett.
Every morning they had trained together, since they were big enough to walk: Snow and Stark, spinning and slashing about the wards of Winterfell, shouting and laughing, sometimes crying when there was no one else to see. They were not little boys when they fought, but knights and might heroes. "I'm Prince Aemon the Dragon-knight," Jon would call out, and Robb would shout back, "Well, "I'm Florian the Fool." Or Robb would say, "I'm the Young Dragon," and Jon would reply, "I'm Ser Ryam Redwym."
That morning he called it first. "I'm Lord of Winterfell," Jon cried, as he had a hundred times before. Only this time, Robb had answered, "You can't be Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born. My lady mother says you can't ever be Lord of Winterfell."
Jon could taste blood in his mouth from the blow he'd taken.
In the end, Halder and Horse had to pull him away from Iron Emmett, one man on either arm. The ranger sat on the ground dazed, his shield half in splinters, the visor of his helm knocked askew, his sword six yards away. "Jon, enough!" Halder was shouting, "he's down, you disarmed him. Enough!"
No. Not enough. Never enough. Jon let his sword drop. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "Emmett, are you hurt?"
Iron Emmett pulled his battered helm off. "Was there some part of 'yield' you could not comprehend, Lord Snow?" It was said amiably, though Emmett was an amiable man, and he loved the song of swords. "Warrior defend me," he groaned, "now I know how Qhorin Halfhand must have felt."
That was too much. Jon wrenched free of his friend and retreated to the armory, alone. His ears were still ringing from the blow Emmett had dealt him. He sat on the bench and buried his head in his hands. Why am I so angry? he asked himself, but it was a stupid question.
"Is that a threat, my lady? Do you mean to burn me too?"
"You mistake my meaning." She gave him a searching look. "I fear that I make you uneasy, Lord Snow."
Jon did not deny it.
(adwd, jon 65)
jon/stannis/melisandre being stuck at the wall for all of adwd is soooooo perfect TO ME! the dynamix of it all...not even romantically just like: three psychos sitting around a map on a table...however melisandre/jon interax are a special, different genre of weirdhorny altogether. when the wind blows jon's cloak open and melisandre's like ok so im getting in there and he's like wtf get off me lmfaoooo"I have seen you in the storm, hard-pressed with enemies on every side. You have so many enemies. Shall I tell you their names?"
"I know their names."
"Do not be so certain." The ruby at Melisandre's throat gleamed red. "It is not the foes who curse you to your face that you must fear, but those who smile when you are looking and sharpen their knives when you turn your back. Ice, I see, and daggers in the dark. Blood frozen red and hard, and naked steel. It was very cold."
"It is always cold on the Wall."
"You think so?"
"I know so, my lady."
"Then you know nothing, Jon Snow," she whispered.
(adwd, jon 65)
kind of insane how grrm blatantly foreshadows the mutiny of the watch that kills jon in the first chapter of ADWD and when it happens at the very end im still like GIRL WHAT THE F every. single. time. also melisandre being weird to jon and then throwing ygritte's words at him when she has never seen, met, or heard of ygritte before...oh the omens...jon snow we're really in it nowFor a moment, Davos was too stunned to move. "Your Grace, you cannot...I am no fit man to be a King's Hand."
"There is no man fitter." Stannis sheathed Lightbringer, gave Davos his hand, and pulled him to his feet.
"I am lowborn," Davos reminded him. "An unjumped smuggler. Your lords will never obey me."
"Then we will make new lords."
(asos, davos 499)
stannis your gay"Ser Jaime? I am grateful, but...you were well away. Why come back?"
A dozen quips came to mind, each crueler than the one before, but Jaime only shrugged. "I dreamed of you," he said.
(asos, jaime 619)
grrm im going to fucking get you!!!!!!! 'i dreamed of you' as the last line in this chapter...and its not even a lie/joke...OK"By law Sansa is next in line of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her." Robb's 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 gather'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."
(asos, catelyn 628)
robb #1 jon snow defender...go crazy put him in your will !!!!Donal Noye was working his bellows at the fire. He looked up at the noise. "Jon Snow?"
"None else." Despite fever, exhaustion, his leg, the Magnar, the old man, Ygritte, Mance, despite it all, Jon smiled. It was good to be back, good to see Noye with his big belly and pinned-up sleeve, his jaw bristling with black stubble.
The smith released his grip on the bellows. "Your face..."
He had almost forgotten. "A skinchanger tried to rip out my eye."
Noye frowned. "Scarred or smooth, it's a face I thought I'd seen the last of. We heard you'd gone over to Mance Rayder."
Jon grasped the door to say upright. "Who told you that?"
"Jarman Buckwell. He returned a fortnight past. His scouts claim they saw you with their own eyes, riding along beside the wildling column and wearing a sheepskin cloak." Noye eyed him. "I see the last part's true."
(asos, jon 661)
truly a jon snow perfect boy moment...his return to the wall in this chapter feels so fuxxking epic...plus the way he is basically 80% dead at this point and is still like :D"Your Grace," said Davos, "the cost..."
"I know the cost!" The king moved, so his shadow fell upon King's Landing. "If Joffrey should die...what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?"
"Everything," said Davos softly.
Stannis looked at him, jaw clenched. "Go," the king said at last, "before you talk yourself back into the dungeon."
(asos, davos 728)
stannis/davos fights on par with stannis/jon ones...stannis just likes to argue what can i say. also What Is The Life Of One Bastard Boy (Joffrey) Against A Kingdom...extremely epic line especially when jon snow is about to be stannis' cosmically assigned bastard boyThe archer looked at him a long while before he said, "You're Joffrey's dog."
"My own dog now. Do you want the water?"
"Aye." The man swallowed. "And the mercy. Please." When the water was gone he clutched the helm and licked the steel. "I wish it was wine, though. I wanted wine."
"Me too." The Hound eased his dagger into the man's chest almost tenderly, the weight of his body driving the point through his surcoat, ringmail, and the quilting beeath. As he slid the blade back out and wiped it on the dead man, he looked at Arya. "That's where the heart is, girl. That's how you kill a man."
(asos, arya 887)
im not me when im not tenderhounding...also arya + hound interax extremely father daughter She dreamt of Joffrey dying, but as he clawed at his throat and the blood ran down across his fingers she saw with horror that it was her brother Robb. And she dreamed of her wedding night, too, of Tyrion's eyes devouring her as she undressed. Only then he was bigger than Tyrion had any right to be, and when he climbed into the bed his face was scarred only on one side. "I'll have a song from you," he rasped, and Sansa woke and found the old blind dog beside her once again.
(asos, sansa 941)
sansa :( she is literally so fuxked up by the time she makes it the vale my poor daughter...however her having vague weird horny nightmares about sandor does give me a little chuckle nglJon yanked away and grabbed the knight by the throat with such ferocity that he lifted him off the floor. He would have throttled him if the Eastwatch men had not pulled him off. Thorne staggered back, rubbing the marks Jon's fingers had left on his neck. "You see for yourselves, brothers. The boy is a wildling."
(asos, jon 959)
JON GO CRAZYYYYYRobert was the true steel. Stannis is a pure iron, black and hard and strong, but brittle, the way iron gets. He'll break before he bends.
(asos, jon 1055)
oh jon...you poetic bitchHe was almost ready to lower his blade and call a halt when Emmett feinted low and came in over his shield with a savage forehand slash that caught Jon on the temple. He staggered, his helm and head both ringing from the force of the blow. For half a heartbeat, the world beyond his eyeslit was a blur.
And then the years were gone, and he was back at Winterfell once more, wearing a quilted leather coat in place of mail and plate. His sword was made of wood, and it was Robb who stood facing him, not Iron Emmett.
Every morning they had trained together, since they were big enough to walk: Snow and Stark, spinning and slashing about the wards of Winterfell, shouting and laughing, sometimes crying when there was no one else to see. They were not little boys when they fought, but knights and might heroes. "I'm Prince Aemon the Dragon-knight," Jon would call out, and Robb would shout back, "Well, "I'm Florian the Fool." Or Robb would say, "I'm the Young Dragon," and Jon would reply, "I'm Ser Ryam Redwym."
That morning he called it first. "I'm Lord of Winterfell," Jon cried, as he had a hundred times before. Only this time, Robb had answered, "You can't be Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born. My lady mother says you can't ever be Lord of Winterfell."
Jon could taste blood in his mouth from the blow he'd taken.
In the end, Halder and Horse had to pull him away from Iron Emmett, one man on either arm. The ranger sat on the ground dazed, his shield half in splinters, the visor of his helm knocked askew, his sword six yards away. "Jon, enough!" Halder was shouting, "he's down, you disarmed him. Enough!"
No. Not enough. Never enough. Jon let his sword drop. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "Emmett, are you hurt?"
Iron Emmett pulled his battered helm off. "Was there some part of 'yield' you could not comprehend, Lord Snow?" It was said amiably, though Emmett was an amiable man, and he loved the song of swords. "Warrior defend me," he groaned, "now I know how Qhorin Halfhand must have felt."
That was too much. Jon wrenched free of his friend and retreated to the armory, alone. His ears were still ringing from the blow Emmett had dealt him. He sat on the bench and buried his head in his hands. Why am I so angry? he asked himself, but it was a stupid question.
(asos, jon 1088)
JESUS CHRIIIIIIIIIST....this all coming after stannis offers to legitimize jon's stark claim at the same time he finds out jeor mormont has died, leaving the lord commandership open, and that robb was murdered in the red wedding...the guilt of taking what would rightfully have been his brother's versus the guilt of throwing it away UGGGHHHHH I HATE IT HEEERRREEE
