Post by voice on Nov 23, 2015 19:01:31 GMT
Fair enough, but his homelife fantasy seems more about holding his own son in his arms and living in Winterfell. He'd prefer to marry Ygritte, but makes it sound like, in a pinch, Val would be fine. Yes, yes--she's "fine." Fun with puns.
So I think he'll want Val if he doesn't wake up as cold as Coldhands, which seems unlikely.
Yes--my best guess at present is that Rhaegar took her on Aerys' orders. The Targ throne interfering in Stark affairs. But. . .it's a puzzlement.
There is one other striking echo/parallel that just came to me - Ned's anger at Robert... Seven hells! I can't believe I never noticed this one before!
“They’ve found her, my lord.”
Ned rose quickly. “Our men or Lannister’s?”
“It was Jory,” his steward Vayon Poole replied. “She’s not been harmed.”
“Thank the gods,” Ned said. His men had been searching for Arya for four days now, but the queen’s men had been out hunting as well. “Where is she? Tell Jory to bring her here at once.”
“I am sorry, my lord,” Poole told him. “The guards on the gate were Lannister men, and they
informed the queen when Jory brought her in. She’s being taken directly before the king...”
“Damn that woman!” Ned said, striding to the door. “Find Sansa and bring her to the audience
chamber. Her voice may be needed.” He descended the tower steps in a red rage. He had led searches himself for the first three days, and had scarcely slept an hour since Arya had disappeared. This morning he had been so heartsick and weary he could scarcely stand, but now his fury was on him, filling him with strength.
Men called out to him as he crossed the castle yard, but Ned ignored them in his haste. He would have run, but he was still the King’s Hand, and a Hand must keep his dignity. He was aware of the eyes that followed him, of the muttered voices wondering what he would do.
The castle was a modest holding a half day’s ride south of the Trident. The royal party had made themselves the uninvited guests of its lord, Ser Raymun Darry, while the hunt for Arya and the butcher’s boy was conducted on both sides of the river. They were not welcome visitors. Ser Raymun lived under the king’s peace, but his family had fought beneath Rhaegar’s dragon banners at the Trident, and his three older brothers had died there, a truth neither Robert nor Ser Raymun had forgotten. With king’s men, Darry men, Lannister men, and Stark men all crammed into a castle far too small for them, tensions burned hot and heavy.
The king had appropriated Ser Raymun’s audience chamber, and that was where Ned found them. The room was crowded when he burst in. Too crowded, he thought; left alone, he and Robert might have been able to settle the matter amicably.
Robert was slumped in Darry’s high seat at the far end of the room, his face closed and sullen. Cersei Lannister and her son stood beside him. The queen had her hand on Joffrey’s shoulder. Thick silken bandages still covered the boy’s arm.
Arya stood in the center of the room, alone but for Jory Cassel, every eye upon her. “Arya,” Ned called loudly. He went to her, his boots ringing on the stone floor. When she saw him, she cried out and began to sob.
Ned went to one knee and took her in his arms. She was shaking. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“I know,” he said. She felt so tiny in his arms, nothing but a scrawny little girl. It was hard to see how she had caused so much trouble. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” Her face was dirty, and her tears left pink tracks down her cheeks. “Hungry some. I ate some berries, but there was nothing else.”
“We’ll feed you soon enough,” Ned promised. He rose to face the king. “What is the meaning of this?” His eyes swept the room, searching for friendly faces. But for his own men, they were few enough. Ser Raymun Darry guarded his look well. Lord Renly wore a half smile that might mean anything, and old Ser Barristan was grave; the rest were Lannister men, and hostile. Their only good fortune was that both Jaime Lannister and Sandor Clegane were missing, leading searches north of the Trident. “Why was I not told that my daughter had been found?” Ned demanded, his voice ringing. “Why was she not brought to me at once?”
He spoke to Robert, but it was Cersei Lannister who answered. “How dare you speak to your king in that manner!”
At that, the king stirred. “Quiet, woman,” he snapped. He straightened in his seat. “I am sorry, Ned. I never meant to frighten the girl. It seemed best to bring her here and get the business done with quickly.”
“And what business is that?” Ned put ice in his voice.
Ned is not Viserys. I think we'd all agree we rarely find him angry, let alone in a red rage that strengthens his muscles. "It was hard to see how she had caused so much trouble" ...like Lyanna? If Rhaegar had in any way been involved in keeping Ned's sister from the wolfpack, Ned would surely have been angry at him even if she herself had caused the trouble.
/debate
Right, kingmonkey? LOL
Ghost-Jon sees Bran as tree in a dream. . . or vision.
* *
___
And people then apply their own baggage to the tree, and create familiar faces, grimaces, laughter, or brooding. Some are more detailed, yes, with open mouths or particularly fearsome expressions, but I think the faces themselves are general enough so as to apply to any person. Be they human or cotf.
In the case of Tree-Bran, Jon witnessed Bran growing in dream-vision-spacetime in the actual form of a tree that was Bran himself. On the flipside, Bran witnessed Jon as Ghost, who is already colored by the weirwood-spacetime continuum - whether awake, asleep, alive, or dead.
Agree on all of this. But--with Lyanna, Ned and family failed to get her home in time. She died and Ned brought her home.
But when Ned repeated his father's basic mistake--getting involved with the bloody southron fools--Ned reversed the death. He died to save Sansa. Actively chose to give up his life (at the Wall) for his child. Ended up murdered. A garbled echo of Lyanna's death related to childbirth.
So, I think, like Ned, Sansa is tied to the dead. Ned is haunted by Lya. Sansa's haunted by a ghost wolf. Now--if she can find a way to find Ned's bones and get them home, she'll take his place in the pattern.
As for Littlefinger--Cat never saw him kill anyone. Lisa was in love with him. Sansa's very young--but she has two things up on her mother and aunt.
#SaveSophie!
And Ned did not give up his life to save Sansa. In fact, quite oppositely, he was entirely ready to die for his honor, his men, and the truth of Joffrey's bastardy. Instead, Ned accepted life, and a coward's life at that, in order to save his daughter's.
“I want you to serve the realm,” Varys said. “Tell the queen that you will confess your vile
treason, command your son to lay down his sword, and proclaim Joffrey as the true heir. Offer to denounce Stannis and Renly as faithless usurpers. Our green-eyed lioness knows you are a man of honor. If you will give her the peace she needs and the time to deal with Stannis, and pledge to carry her secret to your grave, I believe she will allow you to take the black and live out the rest of your days on the Wall, with your brother and that baseborn son of yours.”
The thought of Jon filled Ned with a sense of shame, and a sorrow too deep for words. If only he could see the boy again, sit and talk with him... pain shot through his broken leg, beneath the filthy grey plaster of his cast. He winced, his fingers opening and closing helplessly. “Is this your own scheme,” he gasped out at Varys, “or are you in league with Littlefinger?”
That seemed to amuse the eunuch. “I would sooner wed the Black Goat of Qohor. Littlefinger is the second most devious man in the Seven Kingdoms. Oh, I feed him choice whispers, sufficient so that he thinks I am his... just as I allow Cersei to believe I am hers.”
“And just as you let me believe that you were mine. Tell me, Lord Varys, who do you truly serve?”
Varys smiled thinly. “Why, the realm, my good lord, how ever could you doubt that? I swear it by my lost manhood. I serve the realm, and the realm needs peace.” He finished the last swallow of wine, and tossed the empty skin aside. “So what is your answer, Lord Eddard? Give me your word that you’ll tell the queen what she wants to hear when she comes calling.”
“If I did, my word would be as hollow as an empty suit of armor. My life is not so precious to me as that.”
“Pity.” The eunuch stood. “And your daughter’s life, my lord? How precious is that?”
A chill pierced Ned’s heart. “My daughter...”
As for LF, Cat never saw him kill anyone, but he nonetheless killed her with the catspaw dagger. Curiosity killed the Cat, and LF implanted the curiosity. Unfortunately, the Cat did not die alone...and unfortunately, her husband and children do not have nine lives.
All very cool associations. Need to let them swirl a bit in my head.
I agree that Sansa's beauty seems to ideal the North. But, just as Ned's honor thrived in the North, so would Sansa's--if she can get back there (which I think she will--snow-castle calling).
As for mourning Lyanna--we do that with Ned. Ned is the idealized soul readers and good characters love and mourn. His death and it's consequences reverberate through the books. Like Lya's death does for Ned.
As for a death at Winterfell--I still think Sansa's killing Littlefinger. The moment when the beautiful rose fights back. Finally. Ned already died for her. Like Lyanna died for Jon. They both need to take the sacrifice, pick up their weapons, and start swinging. NO MORE WARG BLOCKING!
Or, and gods do I hope I'm wrong... she might even sacrifice herself for that little shit Robyn. It seems the pretty she-wolves find themselves defending the weak and innocent from beds of blood.
Workable. I'm still crossing my fingers for no real need for a "resurrection" for Jon. But it may be a pipe dream.
Yup! Makes me sad re: Dany. But I've been worried about her since she poured oil on Mirri's head.
about that...
His lord father smiled. “Old Nan has been telling you stories again. In truth, the man was an oathbreaker, a deserter from the Night’s Watch. No man is more dangerous. The deserter knows his life is forfeit if he is taken, so he will not flinch from any crime, no matter how vile. But you mistake me. The question was not why the man had to die, but why I must do it.”
Bran had no answer for that. “King Robert has a headsman,” he said, uncertainly.
“He does,” his father admitted. “As did the Targaryen kings before him. Yet our way is the older way. The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.
“One day, Bran, you will be Robb’s bannerman, holding a keep of your own for your brother and your king, and justice will fall to you. When that day comes, you must take no pleasure in the task, but neither must you look away. A ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is.”
So we already know Robert Baratheon did not have the balls to do such deeds himself, hid behind a paid executioner, and forgot what death was. Not good. Kinda cowardly. Ill-fated.
What about the inverse situation here? Looking into a woman's eyes...hearing her last words...not looking away...not hiding behind an executioner...pouring the oil herself...and not only taking pleasure in the task, but feeling ecstasy and elation while turning fire into flesh...
She did not hatch three monsters, she hatched one. Herself.
Perhaps--but his dreams: getting the sword that gives him a family name seems to be on its way to fruition. So, the dream of his own family at Winterfell--making his own pack. . . his wolf wasn't with the others. But it came back. It looked for them. And both Sansa and Bran feel the warmth of snow's kisses. Family love and restoration.
Fair enough--but I think that pack's getting ready to run. Or at least run through each other's wolf dreams. Warging free.