Hey all! Some really great ideas the past couple of pages. Unfortunately, I'm still having a hard time making my mind wrap around much of anything substantial. My hypoxic brain just isn't quite keeping up. Hopefully, I might be able to think better soon to add some replies or thoughts of my own. I think that @serduncan is onto something with Sansa and the weaving of destiny. I have a strong urge to tie this into SlyWren's idea of Sansa the singer. My mind has tried to connect the ideas multiple times the past several months but I can't quite get there. Maybe they are not related, but both ideas seem so intrinsically linked with Sansa.
@morrigansraven, I think that I must have read the same idea that you did. I think that it was based on the boar. It wasn't a bad theory, but I have no idea where I read it.
Are you talking about her singing to the Hound? I think I'm right there with you in trying to bind them all together.
Her singing to the Hound definitely has power.
Am also thinking of Sansa as knowing all the songs. Then realizing they are all lies--and now hearing sounds on the wind. I've wondered if she might be mimicking some of the abilities of the Singers. It might tie into what we were talking about with some of her knowledge.
But with Jon re-enacting part of the Night's King, Bran's being the Last Hero, Rickon's a beastling, and Arya's playing the hopefully less horrible version of Danny Flint--maybe Sansa's tie to the old stories is Singer. Based on what she's done so far.
All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Oscar Wilde.
“You may not.”Her aunt’s breath smelled of wine. “If you were anyone else, I would banish you. Send you down to Lord Nestor at the Gates of the Moon, or back to the Fingers. How would you like to spend your life on that bleak shore, surrounded by slatterns and sheep pellets? That was what my father meant for Petyr. Everyone thought it was because of that stupid duel with Brandon Stark, but that wasn’t so. Father said I ought to thank the gods that so great a lord as Jon Arryn was willing to take me soiled, but I knew it was only for the swords. I had to marry Jon, or my father would have turned me out as he did his brother, but it was Petyr I was meant for. I am telling you all this so you will understand how much we love each other, how long we have suffered and dreamed of one another. We made a baby together, a precious little baby.”Lysa put her hands flat against her belly, as if the child was still there. “When they stole him from me, I made a promise to myself that I would never let it happen again. Jon wished to send my sweet Robert to Dragonstone, and that sot of a king would have given him to Cersei Lannister, but I never let them …no more than I’ll let you steal my Petyr Littlefinger. Do you hear me, Alayne or Sansa or whatever you call yourself? Do you hear what I am telling you?”
Okay--back to the echoes from Lady Barbrey. The enforced marriage vs. what she wants. The (arguably deluded) surety that the band she wants also wants her.
The difference is the baby--that echo is the tie to Ashara, not Barbrey. So, in this case, did Ned really want to be with Ashara, but chose to follow his duty (as Brandon did in agreeing to marry Cat) and stayed with Cat? Is the fact that Lysa's echo is so dark and twisted, and that Littlefinger is such an anti-Ned--do these facts suggest that Ned really did love Ashara, and she him?
“Yes. I swear, I won’t ever kiss him again, or …or entice him.”Sansa thought that was what her aunt wanted to hear. “So you admit it now? It was you, just as I thought. You are as wanton as your mother.”Lysa grabbed her by the wrist. “Come with me now. There is something I want to show you.”
Now Sansa's both Lyanna and Cat--the accused temptress who may not have tempted anyone. Am starting to think that Sansa should stop wearing blue.
But it again suggests that maybe Lyanna didn't "tempt" anyone either.
“You’re hurting me.” Sansa squirmed. “Please, Aunt Lysa, I haven’t done anything. I swear it.” Her aunt ignored her protests. “Marillion!” she shouted. “I need you, Marillion! I need you!” The singer had remained discreetly in the rear of the hall, but at Lady Arryn’s shout he came at once. “My lady?”“Play us a song. Play ‘The False and the Fair.’” Marillion’s fingers brushed the strings. “ The lord he came a-riding upon a rainy day, hey-nonny, hey-nonny, hey-nonny-hey …”
Not sure what to do with this--other than Lysa has a weird concept of revenge murder. Apparently it needs a soundtrack.
Marillion is cover here, right? His song covers the violence and real meaning of the scene? So, was Rhaegar "cover?"
False and fair. . . need to think about whether that's just Lysa or if Martin's doing something more with it.
All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Oscar Wilde.
SlyWren, so blondes... quickly Cersei and Jaime come to mind for obvious reasons. Then there is Dany and Rheagar. Is Martin hinting that the Rheagar story is a lie? Or is it the "sweet baby" who is fair and false?
Edited to admit that I luvs me some tinfoil headgear.
Had not thought of the Marg parallel and am now feeling stupid. Roses. I'm an idiot.
I swear that sometimes we all forget half of the conversations we've had. You realized about Margery, I swear SW, You were part of the conversation when we were talking about it in the tread for all miscellaneous GOT stuff. Take the hand away from your face before the indentions become permanent!
Brain dump? I thought you'd said you'd glanced through some of the thread. More than half my posts are just piles of "hmmmm"
Yes, but you have a good excuses for that. The majority of times you've needed to say hmmmm have been in response to trying to interpret some crazy idea of mine. Which you tend to be able to do better than I can explain myself most of the time.
But, unlike Lyanna, Sansa can lose her wolf-blood via Lady. The warg blood oddly gives Sansa an advantage in the face of freaks like Aerys and Cersei--like the rest of her siblings, she has two selves. voice and I kinda disagree on this, but things like this make me think Sansa might get out alive. Granted, she probably only gets out of this scene because of Littlefinger. But still, Sansa (and all of the Starklings) have multiple lives. . . might come in handy.
I've agreed with the interpretation of Sansa somehow surviving, at least to get back to Winterfell, but I'm not sure that I looked at it from exactly this angle. Just wanted to say that I like it!
This is what I like so much about the Forensic Files process--we all just dive in. And see where things go. It may get mushy, but that's the process. And some of the things we find as a result are often more fun and interesting than anything found in most straight-up OPs.
Plus I think that you start to develop a sort of trust with your partners in posting throughout the way. I'm definitely not ashamed to throw out the crazy anymore and sometimes I think you all understand what I'm trying to say better than I do!
While Sansa doesn't consciously perform any rituals, she does have ritualistic behaviours. The trace like state she goes into here with the snow castle, has some of the things listed above come out of them. She causes Petyr to show his true colours, finding out the hidden motivation and his secret. She is also very good with Sweet Robin, she calms him when no one else can, solely with her presence. And let's face it the out come of the snow castle moment is disastrous and causes both injury and death. Not to mention that this isn't the first time she's had someone die violently in her presence, Hugh died 'in battle' during the Hand's tourney. We also see her inducing illness with her refusal to be with Sweet Robin when he wants it and the fit he had over the doll.
That I would definitely agree with. But, just like with singing for the hound, much of her impact is based on her rituals of courtesy and compassion. She tends to have the most impact via her words and songs. She's the little bird singing her song. Is this maybe the power or tool that is available to her to impact others and therefore alter the weave of both her and their destiny? Will she learn the songs of those who sing the song of earth to be able to impart true historical information? Do I need to put the oxygen back on?
Didn't it melt with him? Like the magic all ran out and that included all his accoutrements turned to vapour with him?
That's the thing. One minute it was cutting down Small Paul, then no mention. I can't imagine Sam just forgetting about it. Did it melt with daylight? Or more likely did the weapon itself dissipate with the spell holding Ser Puddles together? In the Prologue Forensic File we discussed the possibility that was the reason behind the blue glow, a magical link between the sword and the ww. If that's the case, might it be possible to tie the sword to a human life force? Possibly through some form of self-sacrifice? We also played a bit with this in SlyWren's Dawn thread speculating that Jon actually was using Dawn in his dream, but it was glowing red for him.
Are you talking about her singing to the Hound? I think I'm right there with you in trying to bind them all together.
That and more. It seems that Sansa's singing and courtesies are the major tool that she uses to impact her environment and those around her. Yes she does do her sewing, but this seems even more integral to her.
Yup. Which might make it hard to take and keep and Other sword.
Not to derail, but we don't know what happened to Ser Puddles' sword. It simply isn't mentioned after he is disarmed. It might be buried there in the snow for all we know. What we do know, is that Ser Puddles was pierced by dragonglass, and that likely makes all the difference.
We also learned (passage below) that if an Other is disarmed, and not yet melted by dragonglass, that his sword remains.
ASOS Samwell I
But that was wrong. They weren't alone at all.
The lower branches of the great green sentinel shed their burden of snow with a soft wet plop. Grenn spun, thrusting out his torch. "Who goes there?" A horse's head emerged from the darkness. Sam felt a moment's relief, until he saw the horse. Hoarfrost covered it like a sheen of frozen sweat, and a nest of stiff black entrails dragged from its open belly. On its back was a rider pale as ice. Sam made a whimpery sound deep in his throat. He was so scared he might have pissed himself all over again, but the cold was in him, a cold so savage that his bladder felt frozen solid. The Other slid gracefully from the saddle to stand upon the snow. Sword-slim it was, and milky white. Its armor rippled and shifted as it moved, and its feet did not break the crust of the new-fallen snow.
Small Paul unslung the long-hafted axe strapped across his back. "Why'd you hurt that horse? That was Mawney's horse."
Sam groped for the hilt of his sword, but the scabbard was empty. He had lost it on the Fist, he remembered too late.
"Get away!" Grenn took a step, thrusting the torch out before him. "Away, or you burn." He poked at it with the flames.
The Other's sword gleamed with a faint blue glow. It moved toward Grenn, lightning quick, slashing. When the ice blue blade brushed the flames, a screech stabbed Sam's ears sharp as a needle. The head of the torch tumbled sideways to vanish beneath a deep drift of snow, the fire snuffed out at once. And all Grenn held was a short wooden stick. He flung it at the Other, cursing, as Small Paul charged in with his axe.
The fear that filled Sam then was worse than any fear he had ever felt before, and Samwell Tarly knew every kind of fear. "Mother have mercy," he wept, forgetting the old gods in his terror. "Father protect me, oh oh . . . " His fingers found his dagger and he filled his hand with that.
The wights had been slow clumsy things, but the Other was light as snow on the wind. It slid away from Paul's axe, armor rippling, and its crystal sword twisted and spun and slipped between the iron rings of Paul's mail, through leather and wool and bone and flesh. It came out his back with a hissssssssssss and Sam heard Paul say, "Oh," as he lost the axe. Impaled, his blood smoking around the sword, the big man tried to reach his killer with his hands and almost had before he fell. The weight of him tore the strange pale sword from the Other's grip.
Do it now. Stop crying and fight, you baby. Fight, craven. It was his father he heard, it was Alliser Thorne, it was his brother Dickon and the boy Rast. Craven, craven, craven. He giggled hysterically, wondering if they would make a wight of him, a huge fat white wight always tripping over its own dead feet. Do it, Sam. Was that Jon, now? Jon was dead. You can do it, you can, just do it. And then he was stumbling forward, falling more than running, really, closing his eyes and shoving the dagger blindly out before him with both hands. He heard a crack, like the sound ice makes when it breaks beneath a man's foot, and then a screech so shrill and sharp that he went staggering backward with his hands over his muffled ears, and fell hard on his arse.
When he opened his eyes the Other's armor was running down its legs in rivulets as pale blue blood hissed and steamed around the black dragonglass dagger in its throat. It reached down with two bone-white hands to pull out the knife, but where its fingers touched the obsidian they smoked.
Sam rolled onto his side, eyes wide as the Other shrank and puddled, dissolving away. In twenty heartbeats its flesh was gone, swirling away in a fine white mist. Beneath were bones like milkglass, pale and shiny, and they were melting too. Finally only the dragonglass dagger remained, wreathed in steam as if it were alive and sweating. Grenn bent to scoop it up and flung it down again at once. "Mother, that's cold."
"I can see it. You have more of the north in you than your brothers."
We also learned (passage below) that if an Other is disarmed, and not yet melted by dragonglass, that his sword remains.
So from that passage, for all we know that sword remained in Small Paul until someone (or once risen, SP himself) took it out. We don't actually see it melt, but then when Sam re-encounters him, he doesn't have the sword in him any more.
Indeed. Might be it evaporated like Pudd's armor, but we don't know for certain. What is clear, is that the sword behaved like any other sword while the Other was "alive". It had mass, else it wouldn't have been affected by Small Paul's. Thus, if Night's King was disarmed, but not killed, his sword would remain in the south.
"I can see it. You have more of the north in you than your brothers."
I see. Yeah that might pose a problem. Hmm am now wondering if it would have remained whole if the Other had been disarmed first, or if he dropped it before the melt got that far.
Indeed. Might be it evaporated like Pudd's armor, but we don't know for certain. What is clear, is that the sword behaved like any other sword while the Other was "alive". It had mass, else it wouldn't have been affected by Small Paul's. Thus, if Night's King was disarmed, but not killed, his sword would remain in the south.
Perhaps. . . for now, we don't have enough information to be sure--I don't think.
All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Oscar Wilde.
I swear that sometimes we all forget half of the conversations we've had. You realized about Margery, I swear SW, You were part of the conversation when we were talking about it in the tread for all miscellaneous GOT stuff. Take the hand away from your face before the indentions become permanent!
Good to know I'm getting a head start on senility. But yes, you're right--we all forget stuff we've come up with. Fortunately, we keep jotting it all down.
Plus I think that you start to develop a sort of trust with your partners in posting throughout the way. I'm definitely not ashamed to throw out the crazy anymore and sometimes I think you all understand what I'm trying to say better than I do!
The feeling is completely mutual. Much better to play in a sandbox than have to stand and make prepared speeches on a soapbox.
I've agreed with the interpretation of Sansa somehow surviving, at least to get back to Winterfell, but I'm not sure that I looked at it from exactly this angle. Just wanted to say that I like it!
I, of course, could be drop dead wrong. But the fact that Martin keeps symbolically tying Sansa and Lyanna together. . Lyanna was the Wolf Maid who died. But Sansa's the Wolf Maid whose wolf can die while she lives. Ned took Lyanna's bones back to Winterfell. He sent Lady's bones all the way back, too. Might mean something.
That I would definitely agree with. But, just like with singing for the hound, much of her impact is based on her rituals of courtesy and compassion. She tends to have the most impact via her words and songs. She's the little bird singing her song. Is this maybe the power or tool that is available to her to impact others and therefore alter the weave of both her and their destiny? Will she learn the songs of those who sing the song of earth to be able to impart true historical information? Do I need to put the oxygen back on?
Well then you may want to pass me some of that oxygen as well because that's where my head was going as well, as you can see from my above reply. I think that's it, her rituals of always being the proper 'lady' don't do her much good against abusers, but it does trigger a change in the weave of her story.
Yes please pass the oxygen, I think I'm flailing here...
So, oxygen all around then?
One other thing: the songs Sansa has learned that others sing to her, especially Florian and Jonquil, have failed her. But when she sings--especially to the Hound--she has power.
Had not thought about the rituals, but I think you are right. They don't help her with the savages (like Joff and Cersei). But they might help her with someone like Bronze Yohn--we already see her good manners being "liked" in the Winds chapter. And they really help her with Robin--who might be a factor if she could leverage him against Littlefinger.
After all, she only beheads the doll because she AND Robin pull it apart. . .
All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Oscar Wilde.
SlyWren , so blondes... quickly Cersei and Jaime come to mind for obvious reasons. Then there is Dany and Rheagar. Is Martin hinting that the Rheagar story is a lie? Or is it the "sweet baby" who is fair and false?
Edited to admit that I luvs me some tinfoil headgear.
Hmmm. . . the fact that Marillion is doing the bidding of the unbalanced leader and then is forced to take the fall for the actions of others--that does seem to be a symbolic push against Rhaegar's generally assumed involvement in the story.
Cerise and Jaime? Maybe. But am also wondering if it isn't ironic set up of Littlefinger. And how he's been playing Lysa false for a LONG time.
Hmmm--need to keep thinking on this.
And I, too, love tinfoil. ::crackpot::
All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Oscar Wilde.
“You may not.”Her aunt’s breath smelled of wine. “If you were anyone else, I would banish you. Send you down to Lord Nestor at the Gates of the Moon, or back to the Fingers. How would you like to spend your life on that bleak shore, surrounded by slatterns and sheep pellets? That was what my father meant for Petyr. Everyone thought it was because of that stupid duel with Brandon Stark, but that wasn’t so. Father said I ought to thank the gods that so great a lord as Jon Arryn was willing to take me soiled, but I knew it was only for the swords. I had to marry Jon, or my father would have turned me out as he did his brother, but it was Petyr I was meant for. I am telling you all this so you will understand how much we love each other, how long we have suffered and dreamed of one another. We made a baby together, a precious little baby.”Lysa put her hands flat against her belly, as if the child was still there. “When they stole him from me, I made a promise to myself that I would never let it happen again. Jon wished to send my sweet Robert to Dragonstone, and that sot of a king would have given him to Cersei Lannister, but I never let them …no more than I’ll let you steal my Petyr Littlefinger. Do you hear me, Alayne or Sansa or whatever you call yourself? Do you hear what I am telling you?”
Okay--back to the echoes from Lady Barbrey. The enforced marriage vs. what she wants. The (arguably deluded) surety that the band she wants also wants her.
The difference is the baby--that echo is the tie to Ashara, not Barbrey. So, in this case, did Ned really want to be with Ashara, but chose to follow his duty (as Brandon did in agreeing to marry Cat) and stayed with Cat? Is the fact that Lysa's echo is so dark and twisted, and that Littlefinger is such an anti-Ned--do these facts suggest that Ned really did love Ashara, and she him?
I really think that you might have just hit the nail on the head a little bit ago when you made the comment regarding each of the three ladies having their own love interest that was ideal in their own eyes, but each in some manner lost out to Cat. The more I think on it, the more sense it makes. But, then, who is Lyanna in all this mess and how exactly does she get involved? Is she just like Sansa and trapped in a situation that she can't get away from? How did she end up there?
“Yes. I swear, I won’t ever kiss him again, or …or entice him.”Sansa thought that was what her aunt wanted to hear. “So you admit it now? It was you, just as I thought. You are as wanton as your mother.”Lysa grabbed her by the wrist. “Come with me now. There is something I want to show you.”
Now Sansa's both Lyanna and Cat--the accused temptress who may not have tempted anyone. Am starting to think that Sansa should stop wearing blue.
But it again suggests that maybe Lyanna didn't "tempt" anyone either.
Blue has always been my favorite color. FYI. I have one rose bush. Guess what color the flowers are? At this point I'm starting to question my own taste! But, I do agree. Echoes like these really make me reconsider everyone's role in this tragedy.
“You’re hurting me.” Sansa squirmed. “Please, Aunt Lysa, I haven’t done anything. I swear it.” Her aunt ignored her protests. “Marillion!” she shouted. “I need you, Marillion! I need you!” The singer had remained discreetly in the rear of the hall, but at Lady Arryn’s shout he came at once. “My lady?”“Play us a song. Play ‘The False and the Fair.’” Marillion’s fingers brushed the strings. “ The lord he came a-riding upon a rainy day, hey-nonny, hey-nonny, hey-nonny-hey …”
Not sure what to do with this--other than Lysa has a weird concept of revenge murder. Apparently it needs a soundtrack.
Marillion is cover here, right? His song covers the violence and real meaning of the scene? So, was Rhaegar "cover?"
False and fair. . . need to think about whether that's just Lysa or if Martin's doing something more with it.
Yep. If the echoes hold true, Rhaegar was indeed just a poor schmuck of a distraction. Who was the true mastermind. Could be Aerys but my mind is screaming Tywin. He has the closest morality, or maybe I should say non-morality to LF.
Why must I always be the isle of crazy alone in an ocean of sensibility? The should to everybody else’s shouldn’t? The I-will to their better-nots?
Lady Lysa pulled at Sansa’s arm. It was either walk or be dragged, so she chose to walk, halfway down the hall and between a pair of pillars, to a white weirwood door set in the marble wall. The door was firmly closed, with three heavy bronze bars to hold it in place, but Sansa could hear the wind outside worrying at its edges. When she saw the crescent moon carved in the wood, she planted her feet. “The Moon Door.” She tried to yank free. “Why are you showing me the Moon Door?”
“You squeak like a mouse now, but you were bold enough in the garden, weren’t you? You were bold enough in the snow.” “ The lady sat a-sewing upon a rainy day ,” Marillion sang. “ Hey-nonny, hey-nonny, hey-nonny-hey .” “Open the door,” Lysa commanded. “ Open it, I say. You will do it, or I’ll send for my guards.” She shoved Sansa forward. “Your mother was brave, at least. Lift off the bars.”
Why must I always be the isle of crazy alone in an ocean of sensibility? The should to everybody else’s shouldn’t? The I-will to their better-nots?
I really think that you might have just hit the nail on the head a little bit ago when you made the comment regarding each of the three ladies having their own love interest that was ideal in their own eyes, but each in some manner lost out to Cat. The more I think on it, the more sense it makes. But, then, who is Lyanna in all this mess and how exactly does she get involved? Is she just like Sansa and trapped in a situation that she can't get away from? How did she end up there?
Was thinking on the Lyanna angle, too. In Barbrey's scene, Lyanna is dead. They are staring before the representation of her in the tomb.
In Lysa's, again--Sansa's is the representation of the dead.
In both situations--Barbrey's loosing Brandon and Lysa's losing Littlefinger--Lyanna was abducted and needed protection/saving.
So, for Ashara--was Arthur the savior in this case? Ned comes after her and she's already dead?
One other potential connection: Ned only brings back the horse to Barbrey, not the man. And her reaction is NOT happy despite her being northerner and wife and daughter of Stark banner men. Ned only brings back Arthur's sword to the Daynes, after killing Arthur--an enemy. But the Daynes not only let him leave, they nickname their heir after him???? No--Ned's tie to Starfall has to be a lot stronger than the sword.
Blue has always been my favorite color. FYI. I have one rose bush. Guess what color the flowers are? At this point I'm starting to question my own taste! But, I do agree. Echoes like these really make me reconsider everyone's role in this tragedy.
I think your probably okay with blue as long as you're not Sansa.
Yep. If the echoes hold true, Rhaegar was indeed just a poor schmuck of a distraction. Who was the true mastermind. Could be Aerys but my mind is screaming Tywin. He has the closest morality, or maybe I should say non-morality to LF.
I'm buying this more and more. . . especially sine Marillion is the schmuck twice--once with Cat, now with Lysa.
All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Oscar Wilde.
Lady Lysa pulled at Sansa’s arm. It was either walk or be dragged, so she chose to walk, halfway down the hall and between a pair of pillars, to a white weirwood door set in the marble wall. The door was firmly closed, with three heavy bronze bars to hold it in place, but Sansa could hear the wind outside worrying at its edges. When she saw the crescent moon carved in the wood, she planted her feet. “The Moon Door.” She tried to yank free. “Why are you showing me the Moon Door?”
A crescent moon--the sickle moon. Tied to the weir wood and the bronze fastenings--this really is a trace of a sacrificial space. Was recently saying to sweetsunray that Sansa's description of the Giant's Lance, covered in snow with the frozen, weeping tears of the waterfall, seem to have echoes of the Wall. Really seems like the Vale has one too many traces for the symbolism not to mean anything.
“You squeak like a mouse now, but you were bold enough in the garden, weren’t you? You were bold enough in the snow.” “ The lady sat a-sewing upon a rainy day ,” Marillion sang. “ Hey-nonny, hey-nonny, hey-nonny-hey .” “Open the door,” Lysa commanded. “ Open it, I say. You will do it, or I’ll send for my guards.” She shoved Sansa forward. “Your mother was brave, at least. Lift off the bars.”
Trying to figure out what's creepier: the singing or the fact that Lysa is fulfilling what seems to be a long-held fantasy of killing Cat.
All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Oscar Wilde.