ONCE UPON 24 TIMES... STORY V

Story the Fifth
Ten of Wands
Rumplestiltskin
(Tyrionsa: Copper Spun Into Gold)
There was once a decent fellow, so honest that he lost his head. But he had a lovely daughter, who had just left the provinces up north for the royal castle, and of whom it was said at court:
"All that copper thread on her head, with the ransom her brother will pay, will be spun into gold." Or so the Queen Mother believed. For the realm was broke, and full of corruption, and teetering upon the brink of war.
So the maiden was led into a bedchamber full of silks and jewels in cool colours, to fit the colour of her eyes, and string instruments she could play like a virtuosa. It looked like a wonderful parlour, but was actually a gilded dungeon.
And the King of all the land, a mere stripling as stubborn as he was cruel, packed her by the wrists and said, with piercing green eyes:
"Now set to work and polish your courtly graces, for we are awaiting your lord brother to pay the ransom; and, if he does not accept our conditions and spin your copper hair into gold, and nip a war in the bud, you must die. After all, there's traitor's blood in your veins..."
Then he shut the door in her face and left her locked inside.
So poor Sansa sat down on her bed, tears in her azure eyes, and she did not know what on Earth she was to do. At last she broke into sobs and tears.
Suddenly, there was a friendly knock at the door, it opened gently, and there stood a little imp with odd eyes (the right one black, the left one green), short crooked legs, and a shock of platinum hair with golden streaks.
"Good evening, traitor's daughter. Why are you crying so bitterly?" he kindly asked her.
"The copper on my head will be spun into gold, a ransom paid will bring me home to Winterfell, but I have not a clue on how it's done."
"I know how to play the game of thrones," the imp replied. "Every day around this time, I will sneak into your bedchamber and teach you how to treat them. The Queen Mother is my all-but-perfect older sister, after all..."
"I would give you anything; this lilac hairnet, for instance," the maiden replied.
And the imp spread out a cyvasseboard on the bed and challenged her to a game of cyvasse. It was so hard thinking that her head ached and she grew sleepy. Of course Sansa lost the game.
"It will take ages for you to master," the imp replied. And they played cyvasse that day until nightfall, when, exhausted, she wearily drew her royal blue bed-curtains and wished the odd-eyed imp goodnight.
And she slept the good sleep of the innocent, drifting away to her native hinterland and to snowy eaves among conifer woods, until the dawn crept up the waves in the next morn.
A few hours after the sun rose, the King and the Queen Mother came, and both golden-haired royals were astonished at her mastery of the courtly ways, but their icy hearts were lusting more than ever for the precious ransom. Thus, when she was left alone with His Grace, he pinned the traitor's daughter to the wall and, holding his shortsword to her throat, hissed into her face:
"If you value your life, 'Princess' of the North, and those of your friends and kinsfolk, I hope that every single fire-kissed hair on your head, and also on your limbs, should be spun into gold as soon as possible." In sooth, young Joffrey was pleased beyond measure at his little game, but his thirst for pain, and the realm's thirst for gold, were not yet quenched. "And, if you succeed, this time you shall become my queen."
Sansa's heart sank in her chest, like a lead weight.
"She's only a traitor's daughter, and a traitor she will become; it's as true as the Wall of her home is made of ice. But I couldn't find a better wife if my men went to search, from Dorne to Winterfell... for she has not even shuddered as I pack her by the wrists, tickle her throat with cold steel, toss her to the ground... Even though Lord Grandfather mentions the Tyrell girl over and over again. Like, what do I know about a complete stranger?" the young ruler thought to himself.
When the maiden was alone, her skin as bruised as her self-esteem, in her bedchamber, the imp appeared on his short stumpy legs once more, and asked in the usual friendly way: "What would you give me in exchange for another lesson?"
"I have nothing more to give," she sighed.
"Then, promise me your own hand in marriage."
"Doesn't he know that I'm his nephew's fiancée?" the traitor's daughter thought. And, besides that, there was no other way out of the predicament. The imp might not be a pretty sight, but he was friendly and clever, completely unlike her crowned betrothed. So she promised the odd-eyed imp what he demanded. And they set to work once more as usual.
When the King came in the morn, and found everything as he desired, he straightaway packed his fiancée by the wrists and, dragging her into the throne room, proclaimed her officially as his bride... but was interrupted by his own lady mother and lord grandfather, and by an old dowager dressed in the Reacher fashion: Olenna Tyrell, the grandmother of the bride.
And Sansa thought of the future queen whom she would soon get to know, hoping that she would give her spouse a taste of his own pain... and, all of a sudden, she remembered the imp. She had not made it to Winterfell yet, the war had reaped countless casualties... and the Tyrells were now officially allied with House Lannister thanks to this engagement... She really hoped that the odd-eyed, stumpy-legged little imp would keep his word.

Days, weeks, moon-turns rolled on... and at last the Tyrells came to the Red Keep. The whole clan, lock, stock, and barrel... not only the bride and her grandmother, but her parents and siblings as well. And Sansa the traitor's daughter made friends with Margaery Tyrell, Margaery of the nutbrown hair and the hazel eyes, for the latter was more outspoken and was the one who started the friendship between both maidens.

She also made friends with the matriarch, her granny Olenna Tyrell, who was wise beyond understanding, and had decades of experience... and, while she was away playing her instrument in her gilded dungeon, the imp and the Tyrells hatched a plan to set Sansa free.

Only that she knew nought of that scheme.

At last the springtime sky was clear and wedding bells pealed loud and clear in the Great Sept. For the Royal Wedding, guests from the Vale of Arryn to Dorne gathered around the young bridal pair, in the vast gardens of the Red Keep. 

And Sansa thought of her own marriage to the imp, which had been against her will, and how clever and charming he was in spite of his stature; nothing like the self-absorbed bridegroom in that wedding.

Before the ceremony and the wedding feast, the imp had given her back the hairnet with all its amethysts, telling her to wear it at the royal wedding "for good luck." So now Sansa wore the hairnet, as she watched the dishes being cleared away. The imp, as cupbearer, picked a special amethyst from Sansa's hairnet and put it in his nephew's drink.

He drained the chalice at one single deep draught, to wash down the dry wedding cake...

and all hell broke loose.

Shortly after swallowing his drink, Joffrey began to cough and to retch. His ribcage felt constricted as if by a serpent, then his jaws locked up - he couldn't speak, he couldn't breathe, his earlobes and the tip of his nose turned blue (well, bluish). The young ruler knew he had been poisoned, but he was unable to throw up what he had drunk.

"Joffrey dear... JOFFREY!!" The Queen Mother screamed as he collapsed in her arms, suffocated, heartbeat erratic, going still and finally cold and silent. Her makeup ran dry with the streams of tears that ran down her face; no sorrow equals that of a mother who has lost her child forever.

In the ensuing chaos, the imp led Sansa to the cellars of the Red Keep, to the part where crates full of goods like Reach fruit and grain were shipped across the Narrow Sea. Using a footstool, he got inside an oversized crate first, then helped her get inside.

It was quite cramped inside, and even dark as Sansa put the lid back into place. "Don't breathe a word! Don't even whisper!" the imp said, putting an index finger to her lips.

She sighed and obeyed, and even shuddered as the crate was lifted and put into a wagon headed for the harbour of King's Landing. They would get married somewhere in Slaver's Bay upon arrival; living among slavers in another climate would be preferrable to that nest of asps, the Red Keep, which she was now delighted to no longer call home.

COMMENTARY

This bunny I had for quite a while, I mean Sansa and Tyrion remind me so much of Rumplestiltskin and the heroine in his tale... You can see it is an AU, with an alternate ending with Sansa leaving for Slaver's Bay with Tyrion instead of for the Eyrie with Lord Baelish... I want my Sansa to be happy, and to get to know the imp (like Belle got to know the Beast, or Jane Eyre got to know Rochester), looking beyond appearances.

Maybe also Sansa will join Dany's entourage and give her intel about what is going on in King's Landing? That is the fun thing about AUs, you get to rewrite the story however you like!

FÄNRIK IVAN: JOFFREY I UNIFORM

Abstract: “To distinguish true from false love: Manly and unmanly bodies in Martha Sandwall-Bergström's Kulla-Gulla series.” The protagonist Gulla in Martha Sandwall-Bergström's (1913–2000) Kulla-Gulla series (1945–51) encounters ”false” love through Ivan Malma. The hypothesis of this article is that false love is placed in an unmanly body. Ivan's unmanliness is constructed through characteristics which are marked by different power categories, such as gender, age, class, “race” and functionality. Therefore an intersectional perspective is used. Ivan's body is characterized as unmanly, immobile, and cold. Ivan arouses lust as well as ambivalence.  This functions as a and guides the reader as well as Gulla in distinguishing Ivan's false love.

Det är inte förrän protagonisten Gulla i Martha Sandwall-Bergströms (1913–2000) Kulla-Gullaserie (1945–51) möter den ”äkta” kärleken som hon kan skilja den från den ”falska” för Ivan Malma. Det finns fler exempel på flickböcker där protagonisten gör ett val mellan de två män som hon möter kärleken genom (Söderberg 15; Westin 30–41).

I de flickböcker som Boel Westin undersöker förkroppsligas vanligen den tillåtna kärleken och det förbjudna erotiska begäret av olika män. Hon finner att tre manstyper med ursprung i en kvinnolitterär tradition gör sig påminda i flickböckerna: ”teacher-lover”, en intellektuell, moralisk, ofta äldre, man som vägleder protagonisten; ”the green-world lover” som knyts till naturen och en livgivande, sann kärlek; samt ”Don Juan”, en vacker, charmerande man som har stark erotisk dragningskraft men är hänsynslös och drivs av egna intressen (30–41).

Dessa manstyper diskuteras även i Kulla-Gullaforskningen där  Ivan förstås som ”Don Juan” (Heggestad, ”Ett rike” 173; Söderberg 241–3). Eva Heggestad tolkar männen som representanter för två olika mansideal, Ivan för ett förlegat och patriarkalt (”Fru Marianne och Kulla-Gulla” 103–4). 

En fråga som inte ställs i forskningen är dock hur Sandwall-Bergström låter skildringen av männens kroppar signalera vem av dem som Gulla bör välja. Den här artikeln har hypotesen att den äkta kärleken förläggs i en manlig och den falska i en omanlig kropp. Skildras Ivans kroppar som manliga eller omanliga, rörliga eller stillasittande, varma eller kalla? Hur positioneras de och vilka känslor väcker de hos Gulla?

MANLIGHET, OMANLIGHET OCH INTERSEKTIONALITET

Med manlighet avses, i enlighet med historikern Claes Ekenstams definition, ett skiftande kluster av tillskrivna egenskaper som kontrasteras mot lika skiftande föreställningar om omanlighet (44). Han menar att det omanliga kan utdömas i feminiserande ordalag som ”fjollighet, vekhet, känslosamhet, käringaktigt och så vidare” men också utifrån andra aspekter som ”exempelvis den åldersrelaterade skillnaden mellan pojke/yngling och vuxen man” (46). Artikelns utgångspunkt är Raewyn Connells teori att vissa grupper av män är överordnade andra (78). Med andra ord värderas det som i ett visst sammanhang betraktas som manligt högre än det som anses vara omanligt.

Det är alltså möjligt att betrakta manlighet och omanlighet som konstruerade i skärningspunkten av olika maktkategorier, i Ekenstams exempel ovan kön och ålder. För att få syn på hur kategorierna kön, ålder, klass, ”ras” och funktionalitet skär samman i skildringen av Tomas och Ivans kroppar, och sammantagna skapar ett uttryck som kan tolkas som manligt respektive omanligt, anläggs ett intersektionellt perspektiv. Begreppet intersektionalitet är en skandinavisering av engelskans ”intersectionality” som kommer av verbet ”to intersect” med betydelsen att genomskära eller korsa (Lykke 48). Det introducerades i den feministiska debatten av juristen Kimberle Crenshaw som använder det för att undersöka hur kvinnor som inte är vita marginaliseras ”[b]ecause of their intersectional identity as both women and of color within discourses that are shaped to respond to one or the other” (1244). Termen har alltså bland annat använts för att synliggöra hur flera kategorier samverkar i skapandet av olika subjektspositioner.

Eftersom inte endast kön är i spel i kroppsskildringen i Kulla-Gullaserien används här begreppen manlighet och omanlighet istället för till exempel maskulinitet och femininitet. Fokus ligger bland annat på det som sociologen Cynthia Levine-Rasky beskriver som ”the 'other side’ of power relations, that is […] the intersections of whiteness and middle-classness rather than […] the more traditional categories of racialization, gender and working-classness” (239). Levine-Rasky undersöker just vithet och medelklass som praktiker som är relationella och konstrueras genom exkludering (244–7).

KROPPSLIG OCH OKROPPSLIG

Sandwall-Bergström har skrivit in de två män som Gulla väljer mellan i en värld där personer med makt förespråkar ett val av Ivan (t.ex. Sandwall-Bergström 1949: 154). Ivan skildras som egenkär och härsklysten, och beter sig därför ofta falskt och våldsamt.

Detta speglas även i skildringen av deras kroppar som skiljer sig avsevärt från varandra. Ivan introduceras som en del av en grupp ”unga krigare i husarregementets uniformer, vilka praktfullt lyste i solen – blå var de med vita knäppsnören över bröstet” (Sandwall-Bergström 1948: 65). I Ivans förhållningssätt till kroppen gestaltas hans egenkärlek:

En av ryttarna såg påfallande ung ut – en nyss uppvuxen yngling bara tycktes han mitt i sin eleganta hållning. Han var vek över axlarna och hans ansikte var smalt, blekt och finhylt som en gosses. Men trots detta eller kanske just därför, för att han önskade överskyla detta, var hans sätt att sitta i sadeln mer oklanderligt än någonsin de andras och hans sätt att tygla sin häst var utmanande. (Sandwall-Bergström 1948: 65)

Ivan strävar efter att se bra ut inför andra men misslyckas med att dölja sin pojkaktiga kropp för berättarjaget, som ställer den i motsats till hans skicklighet på hästryggen. Hans manér framställs, enligt Söderberg, som kompensatoriskt vilket skapar revor i Don Juan-schablonen (214).

Både Ivans kropp och de kläder som den bär framhävs alltså.

På så sätt framställs Ivan som självfokuserad.

OLIKA KLASSTILLHÖRIGHET

Även de positioner som Ivans kropp tilldelas i Kulla-Gullaseriens värld förstärker deras skillnader trots att positionerna är likartade. Som framgått är han en ung, rörlig man som uppfyller normer för funktionalitet – även om Ivans sjuklighet i några avsnitt får honom att framstå som en löjlig figur (t.ex. Sandwall-Bergström 1948: 150).

Indirekt skildras Ivan som svensk och vit. Med vithet avses sociologen Bridget Byrnes definition: ”I take 'whiteness’ here to mean that which is constructed as the racialised norm (but is paradoxically often perceived to be non-racialised or unmarked). It is therefore a relational position, constructed through opposition to that which is 'other’, rather than a fixed set of physical attributes (26).” Ivan knyts till Sverige i generationer tillbaka: Ivan, som är föräldralös sedan barndomen, tillhör ”en mycket gammal släkt […] med stolta anor”, ”nästan alla män i deras släkt hade tjänat landets försvar” (Sandwall-Bergström 1948: 68). Ivans ögon är ”ljusa grå med grönt i”.  Ivan är mycket blek (förutom vid ett tillfälle när han är solbränd), i gengäld nämns inte Ivans hår över huvud taget.

Denna skillnad när det gäller klasstillhörighet lyfts fram av Eva Söderberg som bland annat benämner honom som en aristokrat.  (Söderberg 217, 240). Fänrik Ivan skildras som tillhörande samma överklass som den som Gulla gjort en klassresa till – även om han är fattig eftersom hans föräldrar inte efterlämnade någon förmögenhet (Sandwall-Bergström 1949: 51).

I den socialt medvetna klasskillnaden i böckerna laddas Ivan negativt.

MANLIGA OCH OMANLIGA KROPPAR

Såväl kategorierna kön, ålder, klass, ”ras” som funktionalitet kan sägas verka i konstruktionen av Ivans kropp. Deras klasskillnad, som förstärks av Sandwall-Bergström, tycks dock vara avgörande och de andra dragen klassmärks ofta. 

Ivans kropp gestaltas som bristfällig på ett sätt som, som framgått, främst benämns av berättarjaget som pojkaktigt. Hans röst är ”gäll som en hornstöt” och ”som en liten pojkes, gäll, besviken och sårad” (Sandwall-Bergström 1949: 62, 178). Det finns något blekt och förkrympt över honom som även för tanken till en föreställning om osundhet: ”[H]an [var] alltför vek över axlarna, för smal om halsen och för blek i ansiktet. Det skulle heller inte ha skadat om han varit litet längre till växten, ty som det var fick han gå omkring och sträcka på sig i ett för att inte verka tummeliten bredvid kamraterna” (Sandwall-Bergström 1948: 84).

Förutom att skildras som liten gestaltas Ivan återkommande som sjuk:

– Vem i herrans namn är inte förkyld… utbrast fänriken och nös i mörkret, och värre blir jag för jag har stått här och blivit alldeles genomvåt. […] Han drog upp slängkappan som skydd mot snögloppet och kisade ansträngt i det sparsamma ljuset. Hans ansikte såg blåblekt och fruset ut i lyktskenet och det ryckte spasmodiskt i halsmusklerna. (Sandwall-Bergström 1948: 150)

Det är möjligt att tolka det som att de brister som ständigt framhävs i skildringen av Ivans kropp konstruerar den som omanlig. Implicit i berättarjagets kritik ligger en föreställning om hur en ”riktig” mans kropp skulle te sig.

 Historikern David Tjeder menar att 1800-talets borgerliga män betraktade adelns manlighet som teatralisk:

Adelns män framställdes som ytliga; deras position sades bygga på konsten att buga och föra sig vid hovet med hjälp av sken av dygd snarare än dygden själv.
Hans beteende var en påklistrad yta.

Ivans kroppsspråk beskrivs som stramt, rakt, elegant och djärvt. Han ler vackert och insmickrande, skrattar smickrat och höjer högt på ögonbrynen (Sandwall-Bergström 1948: 67, 82, 92, 146, 170–1, 180). Därmed tycks Ivan kontrollera sin kropp för att den inte ska spegla hans inre. Det innebär att Ivans kropp gestaltas som falsk, något som även kännetecknar drn kärlek som han representerar.

Ivans sista livstecken, som utgörs av ett brev till Gulla, understryker ytterligare det teatraliska i hans gestalt: ”Dåligt och haltande spel är verkligen en styggelse, jag föredrar att avlägsna mig från scenen och låter nu ridån falla för mitt misslyckade gästspel” (Sandwall-Bergström 1951: 129).

ISANDE KYLA

Ivan är endast kompetent på hästryggen och med sin piska i handen. När han till exempel upplever sig hotad av ”den väldige grovväxte arbetaren” Teodor springer han genast och hämtar sin ridpiska, utan vilken han skildras som chanslös (Sandwall-Bergström 1949: 101–2, 113–4). Hans sätt att röra kroppen går dessutom, som framgått, ut på att överskyla sin kroppsform och dölja sina verkliga känslor. Därför skildras den inte som aktiv.

Ivans stelhet kan kopplas till hans klasstillhörighet. En föreställning om överklassen inkluderar stillhet – även om det inte helt och fullt överensstämmer med Ivans tillvaro som fänrik. Kylan som kommer sig av Ivans stillasittande är så intensiv...

Även Ivans vita hy kan betraktas som ett uttryck för hans kyla – då han är med i en ridtävling blir ansiktet ”kritvitt” och när han blir illa till mods ”bleknade” han (Sandwall-Bergström 1948: 92, 1949: 156). Då ett barn dör under hans hästs hovar är han ”vit ända ut på läpparna” (Sandwall-Bergström 1949: 164). 

ATT FÅNGA OCH MÖTA EN BLICK

Medievetaren Anja Hirdman menar att ögonen är signifikativa för mannens jag i de Harlequinböcker som hon undersöker (35). Det kan även sägas om Kulla-Gullaserien där Ivans kyla avspeglas i hans ögon trots att färgerna, som nämnts, är likartade: ”[D]et var som om något isvitt och kallt gick i dagen” i Ivans ljust grågröna ögon och de ”blev isvita” (Sandwall-Bergström 1949: 63, 117, 1950: 59–60, 156).

Hirdman betraktar blickar som centrala markörer för kommunikation mellan paret i Harlequinböcker såväl som mellan text och läsare: ”Texten beskriver detaljerat hur män och kvinnor betraktar varandra, vad olika typer av blickar betyder samt framförallt vilka kroppsliga reaktioner blicken på den andra framkallar” (31). Hon skriver att auktoritet och makt under historien manifesterats genom olika sätt att se (31). På så sätt tycks Ivans blickar på Gulla gestalta relationernas maktfördelning. Ivan fångar Gullas blick och hon låter det motvilligt ske:

Hennes ögonfransar skälvde till och lyfte sig av sig själva och när hon mötte hans blick, blev det som ett jordskred inom henne. Allting gungade över ända, trappans röda matta gick plötsligt upp i taket, väggarna slog samman, hon miste andan och trodde själv hon for omkull. Men det gjorde hon inte, för när hon kom till sig igen, stod hon som förut på sina ben och med handen på trappräcket och såg in i Ivans ögon. (Sandwall-Bergström 1949: 110–1)

Som Eva Söderberg påpekar är Gullas reaktion ett tecken på att ”den våldsamma, uppenbart erotiska, kraften finns inom henne själv” (214). Den reflekterar även Gullas ambivalens över att hennes och Ivans relation inte är ömsesidig. Ivan betraktar Gulla som ett barn som måste styras, vilket både avskräcker och lockar henne eftersom hon tycker att ansvaret för herrgården Höje väger tungt (t.ex. Sandwall-Bergström 1949: 117, 135).

Den känsla som väckts av Ivans blick;

Ivans falska kärlek placeras, å andra sidan, i en omanlig kropp som därmed inte i sig reflekterar det patriarkala mansideal som han sammankopplas med i forskningen. Även om romankaraktärer med makt eftersträvar ett äktenskap mellan Ivan och Gulla, värderar berättarjaget som nämnts ... högre än Ivans omanliga.

Ivans omanliga, stillasittande och kalla kropp antyder att han är fel man för henne. Det speglar såväl som reproducerar tillkomsttidens föreställningar om vilka slags kroppar som är manliga och attraktiva. 

THE WESTERIOUS CHRONICLES

These are the Vocaloid/Westeros fusion filks I had as bunnies for a while. Mostly Evillious Chronicles mashups, as you will read. It all is becoming the Westerious AU (Westeros+Evillious), which includes A Sacrifice of Ice and Fire, in spite of Hitobashira not being an Evillious song. I have already done the Chrono Story and answered the question of "will I be able to pull such a bunny out of my hat?" This has been like laying out a puzzle and seeing that all the pieces fit... is gratifying indeed.

THE WESTERIOUS CHRONICLES

DISCLAIMER/WARNING: DUE TO THE NATURE OF BOTH CROSSED-OVER UNIVERSES (THE EVILLIOUS CHRONICLES AND THE WORLD OF ICE AND FIRE), THIS SAGA IS DARK AND FULL OF GRAPHIC CONTENT.
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, IF YOUR COURAGE, YOUR COMMON SENSE, AND/OR YOUR PASSION FOR VOCALOID AND/OR ASOIAF ARE ENOUGH TO DARE. NEVERTHELESS, DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

THE LANNISTERS' CHILD IS AN ONLY CHILD: Backstory set centuries ago on another planet, but in two different dimensions. In one dimension, Jaime Lannister is the only child of the  widow Joanna, and he is a tomgirl who likes to crossdress and put on make-up. In another dimension, Cersei Lannister is the only child of the divorcé Tywin, and she is a teen prodigy of science, especially genetics and dimensional research. As young adults, their paths cross quite unexpectedly, leading them both to a planet on a third dimension, on the continent they and their peers, settlers after a great pandemic, will call Westeros... These Lannisters will become the ancestors and the past lives of the Lannister twins born in Westeros centuries later. The maid who became Jaime's fiancée and gave him her uniform is the Lyanna Stark of his universe, while the scientist Cersei's boss (and the villain here) is the Rhaegar Targaryen of her universe.

THE STORY OF WESTEROS: Chrono Story in Westeros, acting as a prelude to both A Sacrifice of Ice and Fire and the Deadly Sins Cycle. The Seven Gods unleash Seven Sins from the late Aegon V and the newborn Rhaegar, and Aerys and Rhaella (wards of the former and parents of the latter), still young and about to become the Mad King and Queen, are caught in the eye of the storm. The role of Elluka is played by a young Rhaegar, ostensibly the narrator of the whole saga from a vantage point in the afterlife.

PROJECT [LYA]: The whole Rhaegar and Lyanna affair had to be woven as well into the Westerious Chronicles, et voilà! A Lyaegar story, yet another one that fits the plot of both 'verses perfectly, that fills yet another hole in the puzzle that is The Westerious Chronicles

A SACRIFICE OF ICE AND FIRE (this one is a whole cycle, aside from not by Akuno-P): Hitobashira Alice / of Sacrifice in Westeros, previous generation: 1) Lyanna 2) Rhaegar 3) Elia 4) Cersei & Jaime... Lyaegar and Lannincest, aside from the Elia backstory...

THE INSANITY OF CROWN PRINCE JOFFREY: eighteenth-century AU, with occult elements. Pretty much complying with Joff's own character arc, but also with traits of Koschei and Bluebeard. And a good dash of gratuitous French ('cuz, eighteenth-century AU). This was the first Deadly Sins mashup out of all of them I made. And it's paved the way for a whole surprising universe...

EVIL EPICUREAN WYMAN MANDERLY: A lurid Westerosi tale no TV series watcher has ever known... The best pork pies north of the Neck... and Freys that keep on disappearing... Oh, and I made Wyman left-handed on Liza's advice (after all, there are very few born lefties in Westeros: Arya in canon [+Lyanna, Stannis, Oberyn in my headcanon] confirmed).

GIFT FROM THE LAVENDER PRINCE: Liza advised me to do it as Oberyn vs. Tywin (we both second the theory)... so this is an Oberyn character study, which makes it truly redoubtable. Valerian is a tranquilizing herb, also known as "busy Lizzie," which I referenced in the original title, before switching to lavender, fitting for a drier and sunnier Mediterranean climate, like that of Dorne, and with the same soothing properties. I use "gift" with a lower-case g first and then "Gift" with an upper-case G (German noun convention) to keep the bilingual pun going on.

THE TAILOR OF GULLTOWN: Petyr, Petyr, pumpkin-eatyr, had a Cat and could not keep her... Basically a Petelyn story, PetyrxSansa at the end, with elements of Sweeney Todd. The inspiration came from "The Tailor Shop of Envizaka" and Middlefinger's own character arc, aside from the musical set in Victorian London.

THE DAUGHTER OF EVIL/THE GUARD OF EVIL: Lannincest version of the Deadly Sins songs most suitable for Lannincest, mashed up. Inspiration from Catherine the Great (whom I say reminds me of Cersei). And a surprising valonqar ending.

JUDGEMENT OF BIGOTRY: Basically, Stannisxhis family (wife and child). I replaced greed with fanatism/bigotry, the besetting sin of the King of Dragonstone, and added an afterlife POV in which Stannis, like in my Three Brothers AU, comes face to face with the Stranger...

THE BROADSWORD OF REVENGE: 'Cuz Brienne deserves her own Deadly Sins mashup about her comeuppance with Stannis. Headcanon in my own mind's eye, starring the Maid of Tarth, and also a switching POV (the other side of the story) for Judgement of Bigotry. Renlienne mentioned in backstory, as well as Stoneheart.

CAPRICCIO MUMMERY: Capriccio Farce, turned Westerosi style... a nice way to wrap things up in my Westerious Chronicles. Oh, and some Jaimienne to make up for the Lannincest and Renlienne in past filks of this saga. Aside from a lot of loose ends being tied up in the afterlife... PS. Shireen's status wound up being a thing I have to shed some light on:
The Director of the Theatre is a very minor side character, in fact an unseen character (never seen or heard, only mentioned by name-title as the one who commissions a certain play script or opera libretto) in Oscar Wilde's tales; they commissions play scripts and opera libretti for the stage (regardless of if the young bohemian students who pen these works freeze to death on cold winter nights, without being able to afford kindling or matches). Even though the character's title in English is epicene, ie gender-neutral, Victorian patriarchy has made translators render the character as always male in target texts (el Director del Teatro, le Directeur du Théâtre, etc.). Still, in English the word "director" is epicene -- so feel free to imagine a female Director of the Theatre (also, in the Hungarian version, the epicenity is retained in the character's name being lifted straight out of the Magyar translation of the Wilde tale: a Színházigazgató). 
Shireen apparently uses this ghost character --wealthy, artistically inclined, and above all an epicene (in the source text) unseen character-- as an escapist power fantasy for a doll girl who is a terminally ill only child of a powerful official. She sees all her dolls as the performers (actors, ballerini, musicians) and the playwrights at her command. (Interestingly, the Hungarian character name -a Színházigazgató- also echoes the name of the escapist who incarnates the role in Western name order: "színház", theatre, sounding like "Shireen"; "igazgató", director, sounding like "Baratheon") When she died in the fire along with her parents, she became the Director of the Theatre in her dreams, and treats all the other souls in this stage-themed afterlife she has created as her living doll troupe. Only Stannis and Selyse are barred from entering.
When I say that "she inherited the title of Director of the Theatre" from Stannis, I mean that her illness was the catalyst for her parents doing everything they could, forbidden or not, in order to save her, while she felt powerless and guilty and in need to assert some control herself over others, no matter if these others were people -- and also that this relates to Stannis being absent and "too busy" with his official duties during her childhood, which further catalysed her into a theatre-loving doll girl, who looked up to both of her parents while feeling all those feels. But that is all in the past, especially after death -- and besides, did those two ever know anything in detail about her little shows while locked in her rooms?

SEVEN SINS AND SEVEN PUNISHMENTS: Seven sinners, seven smitings. The Seven Gods channeled by the Seven Sinners discuss the story. This could close the circle... or not?

Promo for "A Sacrifice of Ice and Fire." Interested?

THE LANNISTERS' CHILD IS AN ONLY CHILD:

Mrs. Lannister's son is an only child,

the heir to a great bourgeois family.

A cute, pretty boy admired and envied by all,

however, there is a certain "issue" with him...

He only plays with dolls and plushies all day,

and only likes to wear dresses or skirts.

He often puts on his mother's makeup in secret,

and all the children his age shun him for being a tomgirl.

Thus, he was

always all on his own...

Mr. Lannister's daughter is an only child,

a teen prodigy of those born once in a blue moon.

She entered her local university at thirteen,

and began to investigate the hearts and minds of humans.

War, crime, and genocide never seemed to end,

why did people so often hate and abuse each other?

She carried on with her research for years,
to try to understand evil and pain at least a little.

Finally, she realised

that the cause of evil and pain´

was not from her world...

Mrs. Lannister's son is an only child,

and finally his mother found him a fiancée.

Though she was a maid who worked in the Lannister's household.

And she was as cute and fair as a porcelain doll.

"May you allow me to wear your uniform?"

That question from her fiancé came as a surprise.

Totally revolted, she only replied:

"Ewww, so disgusting!"

Mr. Lannister's daughter is an only child.

She, too, was posessed by "malice."

For some reason, she has destructive intrusive thoughts.

So she asks her colleagues: "What do you think?"

The leader of the Dimensional Research Team,

her boss, told her what to do:

"If you get rid of your counterpart,

you shall get rid of your 'malice' too."

Across the portal, screams are heard from the nursery,

he finds himself in shock, huddled in a corner.

The gutted "doll" (his fiancée), with her entrails taken out,

feels warm and cozy, with all her limbs broken.

Through his eyes, he could see

the other world, across the looking-glass portal.

The girl who looked like him in a labcoat,

stretched out her hand to him...

When both worlds were consumed by "malice,"

the ARK left that galaxy.

There were 72 people on board.

They say that included a set of fraternal twins.

As she was about to kill her counterpart,

she realised the truth about everything.

She found out that this quest was

a trap her boss set for her and her counterpart.

The moment she would have killed her counterpart,

she would surrender unconditionally to malice.

"Maybe he (the boss) wanted to take her place,

usurp her place on the ark because she had been infected."

The Lannisters' children are only children, 

yet still, there are two of them.

An older sister who knows a lot about the human spirit,

and a younger brother who knows a lot about the human body.

The ARK courses through the dark ocean of space,

seeking a new paradise to live in.

Surely, the research of both siblings

will one day resurrect the human race...

THE STORY OF WESTEROS

AERYS:
Is it the song of nightingales I hear? Can you hear it?
RHAELLA:
No, 'tis the despaired cry of the court.
AERYS:
Is it the light of the full moon I see? Can you see it?
RHAELLA:
No, 'tis the lurid glow of the flames.
The person we once called our guardian...
AERYS:
...is burning to a crisp within the keep we have left.
Leaving behind the original sin
that the gods broke into seven parts...

RHAELLA:
Lust is a flower...
AERYS:
...gluttony is a seed...
RHAELLA:
...pride is a jewel...
AERYS:
...jealousy is a waterfall...
RHAELLA:
...weariness is a breeze...
AERYS:
...bigotry is the ground...
RHAELLA+AERYS:
And lastly, wrath is a keep on fire...

Arise, arise, O Seven Sins,
filthy offshoots of our bloodline's inbreeding...
Turn around, on and on, on and on,
Prithee purify these Seven Sins...
please, if that could be...

RHAEGAR:
Countless brother-husbands taking sister-wives
scattered the Seven Sins abroad across this world...
The Seven Gods, watching over Summerhall,
blessed the newborn prince entrusted to seek them...

"No matter how much I may sacrifice,
I will always be there to fulfil it, even in the afterlife..."

After falling recklessly in love
and losing everything that he prized, even his own life...
The afterlife he led in the Stranger's Heaven brought
unto him nought but unsubstantial emptiness...

The one who had it all and who lost it all...
Which destiny awaits? What does he wish for?
Until the end of times...

Wrought by and brought upon 
a single bloodline,
broken into seven pieces:
this is the story of sin...

The wistful romance 
of the poet prince born in the flames,
where it all began, at Summerhall...
this is the Story of Westeros...

Lulila, lulila, lulila, lulila...
Lulila, lulila, lulila, lulila...
Lulila, lulila, lulila, lulila...
Lulila, lulila, lulila, lulila...

...................................................................................................

PROJECT [LYA]

-Lyanna's Project-

This is the story of how it all began...
From when shall I begin to tell my tale?
Shall I tell you anything I know?
My name is Lyanna Stark,
a maiden unlike any other.

My beloved's name is Rhaegar,
the learned future king of all the lands...
He kissed me and he softly, lovingly told me:
"You will become the mother of the Prince that was Promised...
Queen of Love and Beauty..."

RHAEGAR TARGARYEN HAD RECENTLY BECOME OBSESSED
WITH A CERTAIN CHAOTIC PROPHECY:
THE RETURN OF THE DARK FORCES
THAT ONCE HAUNTED THE WORLD DURING THE LONG NIGHT.

TO AVOID THE CATACLYSM, 
CONVINCED THAT THE FATE OF EVERYONE RESTED ON HIS SHOULDERS,
HE ARRANGED A TOURNEY AT HARRENHAL...

Winter is Coming, a new Long Night approaches:
thus say our house words and the prophecy.
Only one will deliver us from the darkness,
and his will be the Song of Ice and Fire... 
The Prince that was Promised must see the light of day...

A tourney was held at Harrenhal:
the potential mother was being searched for...
Seek the most unlikely maiden of them all...
The chosen one will be crowned Queen of Love and Beauty,
and she will bring a deliverer to light...

I don't understand the reason why I was the one chosen...
He said that he loved me, and clasped me in his slender arms...
After everything is done, let's elope, like star-crossed lovers,
to the Tower of Joy in Dorne; just the two of us.

The dragon seed has been sown within me at last...
I await the birth of the Prince that was Promised...

THE PROJECT REQUIRED AN UNUSUAL MAIDEN
TO BRING THE PRINCE THAT WAS PROMISED TO THE LIGHT.
ELIA NYMEROS MARTELL OF DORNE, RHAEGAR'S CONSORT,
WAS, HOWEVER, NOT STRONG OF HEALTH ENOUGH.

FORTUNATELY, LYANNA, THE BRIDE OF LORD ROBERT BARATHEON,
WAS THE ONE WHO FIT ALL THE REQUIREMENTS. 

-Rhaegar's Project-

This is the story of how it all began...
From when shall I begin to tell my tale?
Shall I tell you everything I know?
My name is Rhaegar Targaryen,
the learned future king of all the lands.

Unfortunately, I bring the worst of news:
the project was an utter failure.
My wife Elia is too weak to bear more children...
All of my ambitions and dreams have disappeared...

AFTER HAVING BROUGHT TWO CHILDREN, 
RHAENYS AND AEGON, TO THE WORLD,
ELIA HAD WEAKENED NOT TO BEAR ANY MORE CHILDREN.

The Tourney of Harrenhal is a Seven-sent chance for me:
thanks to its consequences, I will rule this vast realm.
The Starks and the Baratheons say I wrested the bride from them...
Now it's the time to defend my rights...

The tourney began,
the crowned one was the daughter of Winterfell...
Temptation approached; we became lovers.

"This crown of winter roses will make things easier..."
Without thinking twice, I placed it on her dark locks.
My dear Lyanna, forgive me for having ruined your life...
Because of our love for each other, a war broke out...

But, as I had intended to, we lived together...
And then, I realized that I really love you.
After everything is done, let's elope, like star-crossed lovers,
to the Tower of Joy in Dorne; just the two of us.

RHAEGAR:
I love you...
LYANNA:
And I love you...

The evening stars were corrupted...
The moon and the stars in the southern sky
disappeared...

FOLLOWING THE TOURNEY OF HARRENHAL,
LYANNA AND RHAEGAR ELOPED TO THE TOWER OF JOY,
IN THE DORNISH MARCHES, WHERE THEY LIVED TOGETHER.

MARCHING TOWARDS KING'S LANDING,
A REBEL ARMY AGAINST THE CROWN
WAS SPEARHEADED BY STORMLORD ROBERT BARATHEON,
THE FIANCÉ OF LYANNA STARK.

-Robert's Project-

This is the story of how it all began...
From when shall I begin to tell my tale?
Shall I tell you all I know?
My name is Robert Baratheon,
eldest of three orphan brothers, Lord of the Stormlands.

Rhaegar and Lyanna were those I pursued,
Lyanna and Rhaegar were both of them gone.
I seek the Queen of Love and Beauty, my bride, wherever she is,
and the Crown Prince, for having taken her away...

ROBERT AND RHAEGAR FACED ONE ANOTHER
AT THE DECISIVE BATTLE OF THE TRIDENT:
THE CONFRONTATION THAT SHAPED THE HISTORY OF WESTEROS...

..................................................................................................


Once upon a time, in a certain place, there was a little dream.
No one knew who had dreamt that dream, and no one cared at all.
This made the little dream think:
I do not want to disappear. How can I make people dream of me?
And thus, the dream thought and thought, and at last had an idea:
"I will make people come to me, leading them astray,
and let them create worlds of their own..."


A SACRIFICE OF ICE AND FIRE

Story the First: The Lost Swordswoman

The first Alice was a maiden righteous, bold, and free,
clasping in her left hand the hilt of a trusty sword.
She cut down the unfair and set right everything gone wrong,
wayward was her scarlet path, far from wedding a lord.

This Alice got lost somewhere far away,
disappeared, a fallen woman, into sin thus lead astray...
They found her bereft of life, within the Tower of Joy...
She lay in blood and wilted roses, with her newborn boy.

Story the Second: The Star-Crossed Prince

The second Alice was a clever prince, so frail and shy,
strumming the strings of his heart and harp to many a song...
Singing and imagining that prophecies were true,
he created an insane world where nothing was wrong.

This Alice loved and picked a winter rose so blue...
he was slain by the stormlord for having made his bride untrue...
Crushed his breastplate and his chest, the lungs and heart within...
Once beloved, now he's hated, due to his last sin.


Story the Third: The Broken Princess

The third Alice was sweet, with skin warm and dark as gold,
the friendliest, loveliest one born on the coast of Dorne...
She wedded the poet prince and dwelled within his court,
giving him two children; when he left, she felt no scorn.

This Alice was the princess of all the land...
She suffered a gruesome fate at a traitor's harsh command...
As she struggles for her life, she sees her children die...
then, her maidenhead once lost, she yields with one last sigh.

Story the Fourth: The Wilful Twins

Following the woodland paths no one's trod before...
Crossing at the ford that still runs scarlet with gore...
Though you have been invited to the Royal Keep...
In my heart you will always dwell...

The fourth Alice were twins with green eyes and golden hair,
so wilful and curious, like any other child...
crossing many thresholds as their lives go on and on...
yet now they're no children and life is no longer mild.

The older sister's headstrong... and...
the younger brother's insecure...
They think they are the closest to their wonderland, for sure...
From their wildest dreaming they will never, e'er awake,
trapped forever in the lives they lead for their hearts' sake...


Who will be the next Alice?

...................................................................................................

THE INSANITY OF CROWN PRINCE JOFFREY

Thus... Allons donc danser!

JOFFREY:
Once more, a beautiful girl
throws herself at my feet before me...
What a sincere smile is hers...
she will doubtless become my next mistress...
Consecrated as an infant to the Maiden,
the Goddess of Love blessed me with the power that
every girl or lady who looks into these cold, green eyes
will fall as if transfixed right before me...

SHAE:
With the power to conquer every reluctant heart...
(Le pouvoir de prendre tous les coeurs qu'il veut...)
ROS:
The lonely young man, into his boudoir at the royal palace...
(L'héritier aux cheveux d'or, seul dans son magnifique boudoir...)
SHAE:
...takes up, one by one, every female that he is pleased with...
(...il emporte, l'une après l'autre, toutes les dames qu'il trouve remarquables...)
ROS:
...gathering them all for his collection...
(...il a la passion de les collectionner...)

JOFFREY:
Like the taste of poison concealed in the most intense liqueur,
like the pleasure of cold steel plunged into the silk of their skin,
blood, sweat, tears, and strychnine that combine into
that alluring purple liquid, so cool yet so warm...
Une fois déshabillée, on ne peut pas retourner dans la réalité!

CATALOGUE OF MISSING PERSONS IN THE KINGDOMS OF WESTEROS
Shae of Lorath, 20-21, of King's Landing, sutler whore
Ros, 18-19, of Winterfell, whore
Ellaria Sand, 30-31, of Sunspear, paramour
Obara Sand, 20, of the Water Gardens, spearwoman
Nymeria Sand, 18, of the Water Gardens, kunoichi
Tyene Sand, 16, of the Reach, septa
Sansa Stark, 16, of Winterfell, noblewoman/dressmaker

JOFFREY:
My portraits of yore burned to a crisp,
the busts of me shattered,
I killed my past self...
I want to forget my lovely face,
for which my stepfather made me feel such pain...
(Maudits mes parents, mes yeux, mes cheveux...)
I clasp the lovely maiden and steal a kiss from her lips...
(Elle résiste, mais je l'embrasse encore...)
Once she was my first fiancée, of our childhood days,
the frightened one who shied away from me....
(Oh, Sansa! Ne me quittez pas encore! 
Je veux être aimé de toi!)

SANSA:
Since a certain day, ladies across the vast realm...
(les plus belles dames de tout le vaste royaume...)
ELLARIA:
...vanished, one by one, into thin air without forewarning...
(...disparues sans aucune trace...)
SANSA:
They were mothers, daughters, aunts, sisters, friends, brides, wives...
(Il avait beaucoup de familles plongées dans le désespoir...)
ELLARIA:
Their loved ones knew not what to do...
(Étaient-elles condamnées par toujours?)

JOFFREY:
The intense hue of ecstasy in the darkness of midnight,
passion beyond limits, utterly unrestrained...
illusions so true to life that they are taken for reality...
I am no longer a person at all...
(Qu'est-ce que je suis?)
Indulging in depravity, to defy the Seven Gods,
this is the soirée of insanity for which I desire...
(c'est la nuit de la décadence et de la démence...)

CATALOGUE OF MISSING PERSONS IN THE KINGDOMS OF WESTEROS (continued)
Taena Merryweather, 30, of the Reach, noblewoman
Léonnette Fossoway, 24-25, of the Reach, noblewoman
Elinor Tyrell, 17, of Highgarden, noblewoman
Megga Tyrell, 17, of Highgarden, noblewoman
Alla Tyrell, 16, of Highgarden, noblewoman
Mya Stone, 24-25, of the Vale of Arryn, sherpa
Brienne of Tarth, 19, of Tarth, knight
Meera Reed, 18, of the Neck, crannogmaiden

In the meantime... a beautiful girl has a conversation with a wistful Dornishman...
OBERYN (giving her a necklace with purple crystal pendants): The pay you give me is not bad for a Tyrell of Highgarden... well, a common enemy is a rightful reason for our lands to ally. After all, my paramour and daughters are held captive there as well...
The maiden, twinkles in her clever eyes, puts on the necklace as the Dornishman takes the silk sachet from her...

Later on, that self-same maiden enters the ballroom at the royal court, confidently, curtsying and smiling warmly...

JOFFREY:
Once more, a new beautiful lady,
(...celle-ci est intelligente aussi... quelle découverte!)
She answers to my every beck and call,
and she is as pleased with me as I am with her...
Viens, Margaery, ma chêre, danser dans le boudoir...
She played so wistfully with the triggers of my firearms...!
After we embrace and kiss so intensely,
voulez-vous être mon échansonne?
She pours our best liquor into the sparkling glass cups,
wish to each other's health, a twinkle and a clink,
a draught of crystal fire searing my throat...
Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my chest,
my lips are locked, I cannot breathe...

SANSA:
A maiden of unusual cleverness, whose best friend had disappeared...
(Elles étaient presque soeurs, très prochaines l'une de l'autre...)
MARGAERY:
...traced her steps towards the ostentatious halls of the evil one...
(...bien sûr, l'amie égarée sarait prisonnière là...)
SANSA:
She put on her best and shone with wit, thus the evil one was soon cajoled...
(...déçu d'une flatteuse qu'il croyait sincère...)
MARGAERY:
...and she put a purple crystal, which quickly dissolved, into his cup...
(...et, à la santé d'elle, il avala sa mort avec la liqueur...)

JOFFREY:
Cold sweat coursing through my veins, with the poison I had drunk unaware,
I stagger, half-conscious, and fall backwards on the cold, hard pavement.
Tainted blood depriving me of air, racking me with searing pain,
as my lips and fingertips are slowly dyed purple...
As I lie tossing and writhing feverishly on the cold pavement,
all the ladies I have collected awaken and flee the boudoir,
The last one to leave looks over her shoulder into my blood-shot veiled eyes...
for an instant... as I struggle to recognize her features...
It was my childhood friend... Sansa! Wait!
Sansa! Wait!
Je ne t'ai pas dit que je t'aime...
(and I cannot, it is too late...)

..............................................................................................

EVIL EPICUREAN WYMAN MANDERLY

Thus, make sure you leave nothing left on your platter.

In the grand banquet hall of a North-born Reacher,
the feast that begins anew is yet another last supper.
The dishes served would make any other person wince,
yet the hefty master devours them with a smile...

The name of this lord is Wyman Manderly,
and he used to be served the finest rarities north of the Neck...
Yet, at the end, what he ended up desiring was
the most gruesome ingredient upon this world...

Bend the knee and pay your respects
to our liege, Lord Wyman Manderly!
All the ingredients that exist
rightfully belong to His Lordship!

Devour everything on the golden platters!
There is always room for more!
Even the maybe lethally poisonous blue glaze
is nothing but the crowning spice on the main course!!

Suck the hollow bones empty, and then, devour them!!
If you're not satisfied, why not taste the platters?
This evening's supper, this orgy quaffed thus heartily,
is still rather far from being over...

Freshly-Gathered Weirwood Syrup
Cold Fruit Soup with Candied Winter Rose and Reach Rose Petals
Assorted Mushrooms of the Northern Woods
Reach-Style Mince Pies Made with our Greenhouse Fruits
Spicy Honeycakes with Arbour Raisins and Sugarspun Lace
Fresh Greenhouse Fruits Out of their Season and Climate
Arbour Rosé Laced with Shade of the Evening

Sunflower and Pumpkin Flower Salad
Rosehip Soup, Highgarden Style
Frey-Style Riverlands Carpaccio
Our Famous Reach-Style Pork Pie
Our Famous Reach-Style Black Pudding
Reach-Style Lemoncakes and Berrycakes with Sugarspun Roses
Arbour Gold Laced with Lysene Brandy

The newly-arrived Riverlands kitchen-maid, a born Frey,
said in a low voice, in a whisper rather soft and shy...
"I desire to be discharged from your service, Your Lordship..."
Hmph! Such backstabbing upstart traitors!

Bend the knee and pay your respects
to our liege, Lord Wyman Manderly!
Anyone who betrays his trust
will have to pay the heaviest of prices!

Devour everything on the golden platters!
Today's feast will be unlike any other!!
With auburn hair shining with a reddish tinge,
this one sure goes down smoothly indeed...

Let Arbour gold flow to wash down our rarities!
If you are not satisfied, feel free to ask for seconds!!
Hey, you, little cupbearer over there...!
I wonder what you taste like...

Today's Supper 
Sunflower and Riverlands Clover Salad
Rosehip Soup, The Crossing Style 
(***Due to certain circumstances, this course has been censored***)
Our Famous Reach-Style Pork Pie
Our Famous Reach-Style Black Pudding (Is that human blood?)
Spicy Honeycakes with Arbour Raisins and Sugarspun Lace
Reach-Style Lemoncakes and Berrycakes with Sugarspun Roses
Arbour Gold Laced with Lysene Brandy

After Supper
(***Due to certain circumstances, this course has been censored***)
(***Due to certain circumstances, this course has been censored***)
(***Due to certain circumstances, this course has been censored***)
(***Due to certain circumstances, this course has been censored***)
(***Due to certain circumstances, this course has been censored***)
(***Due to certain circumstances, this course has been censored***)
(***Due to certain circumstances, this course has been censored***)

As the days went by, the keep gradually became empty...
There is nothing and no one left but His Lordship within...
Even then, he keeps on seeking more of his drug,
the most gruesome ingredient upon this world...

"If I leave any leftovers, they will smite me..."

Devour everything that you may be pleased with!
Suddenly, he caught sight of his own right hand...
And, quietly, affably, he smiled and he said to himself:
"There is something I have never tasted before..."

The lurid last supper of Lord Wyman
consisted of no other ingredient but himself...
Now he knows every flavour in the Known World,
but no one will ever know what he tasted like...


The cupbearer and the kitchen maid are both Frey prisoners of war and my own OC:s. I felt that I had to make that explanation for you, dear readers. The story of the Frey pies is one of the most lurid subplots kept out of the TV series, and there is still speculation around it...

..............................................................................................

GIFT FROM THE LAVENDER PRINCE

gift (English)
noun
1. a present
2. a talent
3. something cheap, an easy task

Thus, 'tis time for you to get some rest...

Please, calm down with this gift of mine...
You can rest assured and soothed with this gift of mine...
Yes, I am the Lavender Prince who brings repose...
only so that you can be happy at last...

King's Landing, anno 300 after the Conquest

Even though hers was a marriage of state,
even though he left her, Elia still loved Rhaegar...
You're a straitlaced statesman, only caring for your position...
while I have still thought of my loved ones for decades...

You were after the lives of the princess and her children,
fearing that their descendants might take your place...
You've forgotten the price that you and I had to pay...
And that is fine as well, until the past resurfaces...

I can bear no longer to see you weary every day,
worn out by old age and by the pressure of statescraft...
so let me give you this good remedy...
It will soothe you and heal your weariness from within...
Take it as a present from me...

Please, calm down with this gift of mine...
You can rest assured and soothed with this gift of mine...
Yes, I am the Lavender Prince who brings repose...
only so that you can be happy at last...

UPON LEARNING THAT LORD TYWIN LANNISTER 

HAD HAD HIS SISTER AND NEPHEWS KILLED,

HE FINALLY FELT THE WEIGHT OF HARSH REALITY.

AND THUS, DURING HIS WAYWARD LOST YEARS,

OBERYN LEARNED (AMONG MANY OTHER RECIPES)

HOW TO DISTILL A SOOTHING "GIFT" OF REPOSE.

THIS "GIFT" HE WOULD LATER GIVE TO TYWIN LANNISTER,

CLAIMING THAT IT WAS A POWERFUL TRANQUILIZING DRUG.

Everyone has got one or another kind of concerns.

Including my brother, my paramour, and all of my daughters.

For the sake of everyone I love who cannot sleep at night,

I shall make more tranquilizer as a gift for you...

As soon as you plunge into your dreamland,

you will forget harsh reality and all intrusive thoughts...

Lying in bed, as innocently as a child,

close your eyes, and let go of everything...

LORD TYWIN LANNISTER, IN CRITICAL CONDITION.

DORNISH VISITORS TAKE KING'S LANDING BY STORM.

THE RED KEEP PLUNGED INTO PANIC BY LORD LANNISTER'S CONDITION.

IS DORAN NYMEROS MARTELL BEHIND THE SCENES?

THE CAPITAL IS CUT OFF FROM THE REST OF WESTEROS.

HOUSE LANNISTER ALREADY IN A STATE OF DECADENCE.

gift (English)
noun
1. a present
2. a talent
3. something cheap, an easy task

Gift (German)
noun (neuter)
1. poison, venom, toxic substance

After you have drunk my gift for so many days,
Your Lordship, you will live without a worry or a care...
I myself, "by no means weary", will, in exchange,

have finally obtained freedom from this pain that weighs me down...

Please, calm down with this Gift of mine...
You can rest assured and soothed with this Gift of mine...
Yes, I am the Lavender Prince who brings repose...
lonely and empty, seeking the hope I once lost...

In those days when I was trying to forget

my sister and her children, shattered like porcelain dolls...

I, for decades, was already broken as well...

thus, I seek to punish those who took their lives...

This is a very powerful drug:

the effect will stay within you forever and ever...

Now it is finally my time to take some rest...

I will change into the lover of the Dornishman's Wife at last...

OBERYN WAS SLAIN IN A TRIAL BY COMBAT

AGAINST LANNISTER CHAMPION SER GREGOR CLEGANE.

DAYS AFTERWARDS, LORD LANNISTER WAS FOUND DEAD IN THE PRIVY.

HIS LIFELESS FORM HAD ALREADY BEGUN TO DECAY.

WAS IT BECAUSE OF HIS STATE OF HEALTH,

OR BECAUSE HE HAD TRUSTED THAT PERSON?

AFTER OBERYN FOUGHT THAT LAST COMBAT,

HE TOOK THE TRUTH WITH HIM INTO ETERNAL DARKNESS...


Oh, and Liza advised me to do the Gift song with Oberyn and Tywin (to get even more Dornishness in here and introduce the Elia issue).  I use "gift" with a lower-case g first and then "Gift" with an upper-case G (German noun convention) to keep the bilingual pun going on.

..............................................................................................

THE TAILOR OF GULLTOWN

Thus, let's pin those sleeves...

On a quaint street in Gulltown, in the Vale of Arryn,
there lives a young man who runs a tailor's shop.
Having made himself, risen from obscurity,
now he makes clothes for wealthy townsfolk and for nobles...
However, there is a thought constantly on his mind:
the person he once admired as a child and whom he still loves...
"Even though I have made myself, though I am within your reach...
you never stay for long time under my scissors sign..."

But I have commissions, I've got to concentrate...
clutching my scissors in my right hand...
the scissors Mother once used for her needlework...
The sharper they are, the better they cut...

Catelyn... I am honoured to make your dresses and your accessories...
but can there be something more between us?

Today, like every day, there's nothing new under the sun...
when I went shopping, our eyes met on the marketplace...
There she was, Cat, with that bright auburn hair and those warm blue eyes...
But who was the gentleman who held her hand by her side?
That grey overcoat fits his serious frame like a glove,
and she appears to be very close to the stern gentleman...
I could not stand the sight any longer,
so off I dashed back into the shop...

But I've got work to do, I've got to concentrate...
clutching my scissors in my right hand...
Teardrops trickle down my cheeks and into my goatee
as I tweak the overcoat pinned down on the table, right before me...

There's an eerie athmosphere out on the streets,
as if a murder had taken place.
I saw Cat today once more, half-way crossing the bridge,
but who was the young man walking by her side?
She has a mournful countenance, there is sorrow in her eyes...
the dashing young gentleman dries up her tears by her side...
That cravat, embroidered with silver thread, fits him like a glove...
Ah... So this is the type of lover you prefer?

But I've got work to do, I've got to concentrate...
clutching my scissors in my right hand...
With blood-shot eyes, swollen and ablaze,
I tweak the cravat pinned down on the table, right before me...

There's a rumour spreading throughout the streets lately:

it seems that two murders have taken place in a row.

I saw her peering through the window-panes of my shop,

but who was the young boy who had come with her?

For such a stripling, who has not yet reached his sixteenth year,

she bought from me a smart grey checkered newsy cap.

What the seven hells do you think you are doing?

Seriously, Catelyn Tully, you know no limits!

But I've got work to do, I've got to concentrate...
clutching my scissors in my right hand...
How strange... have the scissors' blades always been scarlet?
Today, I will do my best with this cap as well...

At last, I am ready, I have finished.
If you are not the one who is going to come to me...
I will be the one who will come to you.

"The two blades of a pair of scissors work together by crossing each other.
Just like any decent husband and wife couple should do.
At least, that's what Mother used to say..."

In this smart grey overcoat,
this cravat embroidered with silver thread,
and this checkered newsy cap,
which I put on my head...
I have become
your kind of lover...
Now, Cat, what do you say?
Am I not dashing?

Today, nothing is the same at all.
The victim this time, the fourth one, was female:
The wife and mother of the Stark family...
like her spouse and sons, she appears to have been murdered.

On the other hand, she had been quite cruel.
"Good morning, pleased to meet you", she said.
As if I had perchance been a stranger to her,
as if I had perchance been a stranger to her...

But I've got work to do, I've got to concentrate...
clutching my scissors in my right hand...
the scissors for needlework which have been dyed crimson...
The sharper they are, the better they cut...

But we've got work to do, we've got to concentrate...
clutching my scissors in my right hand...
with the orphan girl I call my niece for an apprentice,
since I lost the mother, but the daughter is at least mine...

Sansa... we will have to leave this place for safety's sake,
and set shop elsewhere.
Like in King's Landing, the capital.
You've always wanted to live there, right, darling?
Well, we're setting sail tomorrow, lock, stock, and barrel.
I know you cannot say no...


Explanation: The three male murder victims are, in this order: Ned (coat), Robb (cravat), and Bran (cap). This was the second Westerious bunny I had, just to see Petyr as the killer in this song fit perfectly, like Joff in Venomania.

...............................................................................................

THE DAUGHTER OF EVIL/THE GUARD OF EVIL


CERSEI:
Thus, everyone bend the knee!

Once upon a time, somewhere in this world
there was a great kingdom with a decadent court,
and, high above them all, upon a throne of swords,
sat the young queen, aged just twenty-four.

She lived in a huge red castle outside the capital,
the commander of her guards looked quite similar to her,
her loutish husband had been "killed in an accident..."
her eldest son and heir was called Joffrey...
What more could she wish for?

If the realm treasury chanced to be out of funds,
there would always be the riffraff to oppress for more...
as for anyone who contradicted her commands...
they would only forfeit with their lives!
(Eddard Stark led to the scaffold, Arya watching)

CERSEI:
Thus, everyone bend the knee!

Scarlet and golden flower of evil, blooming feverishly, vividly,
all the puny weeds around will be absorbed into it...

JAIME:
You are my liege lady, I'm your faithful knight,
we are lovely twin siblings torn apart by chance...
If it is to protect you, I will break any oath,
I will betray myself, sacrifice the one I am...

We were born to much rejoicing, with great expectations,
blessed by pealing sept bells we were given our names...
However, selfish adults, to further their own ends,
split our future in twain and rent the tie that binds us...

Even if the whole world became your enemy,
I will stay true to you and protect you from harm...
so please rest assured, what are brothers and kingsguards for?

You are my liege lady, I'm your faithful knight,
we are pitiful twin siblings torn apart by chance...
If it is to protect you, I will break any oath,
I will betray myself, sacrifice the one I am...

The selfish queen fell madly in love with a young man
from the ruling household of the land of flowers,
but, however, his heart belonged to another:
the dashing lord of the stormy lands...

JAIME:
During a tourney, I first met the Lord of Storm's End,
then but a raven-haired stripling, but still a charming one...
so cheerful and kindly, with such a smile on his face...
I must say the truth: that I took a shine to him...

Intoxicated with jealousy, Her Grace
called for her lord father and her other advisors,
and, during the council, she coldly told them:
"War shall be declared on the Stormlands..."

JAIME:
But Her Grace's command, issued straight by herself,
is that Lord Renly shall be put to death...
I must lead her armies upon the battlefield,
since her wish is my command,
but why are my cheeks always wet with tears?

Countless villages were overrun,
and countless lives were lost in the fray...
So many common people suffering due to the war...
Their sorrow could not reach the detached queen...

CERSEI:
Ah, it's time for a drink and cake!

Scarlet and golden flower of evil, blooming beautifully,
though in a deranged manner, 
and intrenched in so many thorns that it cannot be touched.

JAIME:
You are my liege lady, I'm your faithful knight,
we are deranged twin siblings torn apart by chance...
Today, there are lemoncakes washed down with Dornish red...
In response, you smile as innocently as always...

Agreeing that the wicked queen should be brought down,
finally the common people had to take to arms.
And spearheading the realmwide uprising was
a Faceless Swordswoman, an assassin deadly and swift...

All of the grudges that the smallfolk had pent up
finally led to riots, from Dorne to the Night's Watch...
Worn out by the Stormlands campaign, and by this conflict,
the queen's men soon turned cloak to the insurgents' side.

JAIME:
Before long, our regime will surely be destroyed
by the wrath of our angered subjects...
If they say that we rightly deserve this...
though it would be fitting retaliation for the Targaryens...
I will still oppose it.

In the end, the Red Keep itself wound up under siege,
its weary garrison had to hoist the white flag,
and the lovely young queen, whose star had begun to fade,
feared she'd share the fate of her kin's foes...

CERSEI:
I still remember Elia and her children... No! We shall never share their fate!

Scarlet and golden flower of evil, blooming sorrowfully...
as the paradise that had been made for her sake
is quickly becoming an inferno...

JAIME:
Let me put my left hand around your silky white throat...
I will set sail with the children, trust me, they will be safe.
It's all right, we're twins, and you are the eldest one...
Didn't the foretelling say your little brother would strangle you?

(click of a closing trachea)

You are a dying sinner, I am a fugitive,
we are saddened twin siblings torn apart by chance...
If you go down in history as a villainess,
then, I have the same blood flowing through my veins...

Once upon a time, somewhere in this world
there was a great kingdom with a decadent court,
and, high above them all, upon a throne of swords,
sat Her Grace, my adorable older sister.

Even if the whole world became your enemy,
(CERSEI: At last my time has come...)
I will stay true to you and protect you from harm...
(CERSEI: As the sept bells signal the end of my life...)
so please rest assured, what are brothers and kingsguards for?
(CERSEI: I do not dare to look at the crowd storming in)
There you are, sitting on the throne, with a dark collar, smiling...

JAIME:
You are my liege lady, I'm your faithful knight,
we are pitiful twin siblings torn apart by chance...
If it is to protect you, I will break any oath,
I will betray myself, sacrifice the one I am...

JAIME+CERSEI:
If I ever were to be reborn...
I would like to be with you once again...


Annotations: The swordswoman leading the uprising is Arya. But she is still leading the vanguard of the upcoming Targ invasion... and the poem references the "valonqar prophecy" that Cersei would be strangled by her little brother... 
This was the third bunny I had in the Westerious saga, with Lannincest since Rin's and Len's characters in the Tale of Evil are so reminiscent of Cersei and Jaime (respectively) that there was another story that could be given a Westeros shot...

........................................................................................................

JUDGEMENT OF BIGOTRY

IN THE KINGDOMS OF WESTEROS, THERE ONCE WAS A MAN OF RANK WHO USED HIS RELIGIOUS CONVICTION AS FOUNDATION FOR HIS OWN PERSONAL GOALS.

HIS NAME WAS STANNIS BARATHEON, BUT HE WOULD BE KNOWN AS "AZOR AHAI" TO THOSE WHO FOLLOWED HIS CREED AND BANNER...

Thus, now it's time for the judgement.

CHAPTER I
THE BIGOT AND THE RELIGIOUS EXCUSE FOR WARFARE
Everyone is either good through and through
or utterly evil...

[Law] [Justice]

[Litigation] [Judgement]

[Plaintiff] [Defendant]

[Innocent] [Guilty]
I am the Saviour,
I love righteousness more than anything else...
[Hearing] [Witness]
[Indictment] [Dismissal]
[Cross-Examination] [Defense]
[Prosecution] [Summons]
Even the most sinful can be redeemed
if they pay the price...
and that price is not paid in gold,
but in flesh and blood.
Rank, age, gender, descent...
all of that is irrelevant.
[Sinners] [Heretics]
[Deception] [Repression]
[Deceit]  [Power]
[Decadence] [Usurpers]
What matters is if you have done right or wrong:
that is everything...
[Right] [Right]
[Right] [Right]
[Right] [Right]
[Right] [Right]
Your lives depend on me...
If you wish for salvation, let me see what you have done!

And thus, sin is my only consideration,
in the judgement of bigotry...
If you wish to leave the cold mire of damnation,
give me the reasons why to be redeemed or not...

CHAPTER II
THE DAUGHTER IN THE DREARY FORTRESS
AND
THE SAVIOUR REBORN
Even for my daughter, with her face covered in gray scales,
I need to be stainless (sinless)...
[TERMINAL ILLNESS] [FAMILY]
[CONCERN] [DAMNATION]
[MIRACLES] [HOPE]
[RED LADY] [FRIENDSHIP]
If I purge this world of sinners, of depravity,
my wishes will come true...
[CONVERT] [LORD OF LIGHT]
[RIGHTFUL] [CATHARSIS]
[RESURRECTION] [REGENERATION]
[NEED] [COST]
Today, the courtroom of doubt opens anew...
The wicked laugh, and the righteous are in tears...

And thus, sin is my only consideration,
in the judgement of bigotry...
If I want to fulfill my innermost desires,
I will keep on swinging this unrighteous flaming sword...

CHAPTER III
THE OUTBREAK OF WAR

AND

THE END OF THE DEATH SENTENCE

My conceited younger brother, turned the leader of an army,
a usurper, a traitor...
I was asked to parley with him, I gave him conditions,
and he could have accepted them...
Thus, his arrogance and stubbornness led to the outbreak of war,
and my brother was assassinated...
he lies in state, bereft of life, 
in his pavilion.

ANNO 299 AFTER THE CONQUEST.
THE STORMLANDS PLUNGED INTO POLITICAL AND MILITARY DEBACLE:
THE LIFELESS BODY OF KING RENLY BARATHEON,
THE FIRST OF HIS NAME, WAS FOUND DRENCHED IN BLOOD,
MORTALLY WOUNDED, IN HIS PAVILION.

I was asked to confront the weight of my actions...
my whole fleet was burned to ashes...
Yet my beloved daughter Shireen will comfort me
as long as she is with me...
In the ruins of Castle Black, anyone will find
the lonely charred corpses of the parents and their child...

CHAPTER IV:
THE GOD OF THE DECEASED
AND 
THE FINAL JUDGEMENT
When I awoke, I was all alone in a dreary place...
the Seventh of Heavens...
whether redemption or damnation, the one who decides is
the Stranger itself... (the God of the Deceased)
Even the most depraved sinners will be saved
if they pay the price...
and that price is not paid in gold,
but in flesh and blood.

I smile, for the first time in decades, to the Stranger,
and then, softly whisper:
"I will never hand over such a price...
never in my afterlife..."
Thus, I suddenly reeled, and lost my footing,
and plunged into the depths of the Seventh of Hells...

And thus, sin is my only consideration,
in the judgement of bigotry...
for I will not let anyone ever...
write the sentence of those sins...
Thus, someday, I will reunite, in my next life, with these hands,
the fragments of depravity...
And thus, the Seventh of Hells will finally turn to
the best of all worlds for my wife, our daughter, and me...

.........................................................................................................

THE BROADSWORD OF REVENGE

O wayward sinner...
Thus, prithee regret all you have done...

NOM DE GUERRE: MAID OF TARTH
AZOR AHAI: THE RIGHTEOUS SAVIOUR
BLUE IS THE COLOUR OF SORROW AND COLDNESS...

KEEP OF CASTLE BLACK
Hear, Lady Stoneheart, know that I am right now
pointing with a sword at a certain person,
who deceived many others...
An ambitious person who thinks only of what's right...

For the sake of this person's ambition,
the one I loved died violently in my arms...
Though I am innocent, I am still accused of it...
yet those who pursue me have not ended my life...

At last the moment of truth and revenge is here...
Regret, regret all you have done!
THE REVENGE OF THE BLUE MAIDEN
NOM DE GUERRE: MAID OF TARTH

Hallo und auf Wiedersehen, Herr Azor Ahai...
I will set fire to your keep... Tell me now what you prefer...
Do I run my cold steel blade across and through your throat,
or let you burn to a crisp within this inferno?

THE REDEMPTION
Hear, Lady Stoneheart, I don't care who's the villain...
I should give him a second chance for atonement, right?
And thus did I say to him:
"Strip yourself of everything you value and prize..."

THAT PRICE IS NOT PAID IN GOLD,
BUT IN FLESH AND BLOOD.

If you confess out loud everything you did "for religion,"
only on that condition will I spare your life...
And thus said he in response:
"Of what I did for the LORD'S sake...
[AZOR AHAI: THE RIGHTEOUS SAVIOUR]
... I will never let go of anything!"
RIGHTFUL KING OF THE LANDS OF WESTEROS
STANNIS BARATHEON

Right, there's nothing left to do, you twat...
In truth, in sooth, regret and repent!

AZOR AHAI: THE RIGHTEOUS SAVIOUR
CHOSEN BY R'HLLOR
JUDGEMENT OF BIGOTRY
JUDGEMENT OF BIGOTRY

Hallo und auf Wiedersehen, Herr Azor Ahai...
The righteous swordsman stifled by his own bigotry...
his body drenched in my wrath and that of other innocents...
Prithee, fall asleep forever...

SHE WAS ACCUSED OF KILLING HER BELOVED
HIS BROTHER HAD GIVEN THE ORDER
SHE DECIDED TO GET REVENGE

MEMORY
Hear, Lady Stoneheart, you are still on your own...
you are still all alone on your own...

SEVEN YEARS AGO
You were separated from both of your daughters,
and you feared that they would forget your face one day...
Do you hear, Lady Stoneheart, it seems that the Lannisters
are no longer here and no longer a threat...

CATELYN'S DAUGHTERS

I am sure that they are somewhere in this wide world...

FIVE YEARS AGO
Those two girls have already vanished, as if into thin air...
Now your daughter am I, only me and me alone...

THEN, THE MAIDEN WENT INSANE

Hear, Your Grace...
[I LEFT IT ALL BEHIND
YOU KNOW, I LEFT IT ALL BEHIND]
...Look at me...

THE LAST BROADSWORD
JUDGEMENT OF BIGOTRY

Simply...
[AZOR AHAI]
...Look at me

STONEHEART
CATELYN

Hallo und auf Wiedersehen, Eure Hoheit...
Leader of fanatics, righteous bigot...
Hear, Lady Stoneheart, why did your husband
trust that person that much?

Now, in sooth, everything has come to an end...
We will put an end to everything...
To this sinful story of evil...

Fare thee well...
(My beloved...)
(The one I hated the most...)

...........................................................................................

CAPRICCIO MUMMERY

The defendant's seat is empty...
The barrister's seat is full of trash...
Thus, let us now begin
this mummery known as 
a "trial"...

[Grayscaled Princess]
Following the decrees of the Lord of Light,
one only vessel is now solely missing.
If you happen by chance to know its whereabouts,
please contact the Lady with the Heart of Stone...

[Lady Stoneheart]
Turning back time, changing ever shape and master,
finally, at last, it has appeared upon the stage,
yet, however, I do not know its real whereabouts...
Perchance it may be in the hands of that person...

[Servants]
Seek her, seek her, seek her everywhere,
to the left, to the right, looking up and looking down...
For the one who holds all the Keys,
the Stranger, the Many-Faced God of the Deceased...

[Lightbringer]
For how long will this mummery be carried on?
There is no longer any life beyond it...
[Fallen Queen]
The souls of mortals once fell into the trap...
There is nothing now that can be done or that has not been done...

[Servants]
Swaying scales
in a shattered scenario,
vessels tainted by the sins of yore...
Each one singing a song of one's own,
in a discordant capriccio...

The story has slipped from the hands of the Gods,
and now it unfurls free, with a life of its own...
If those people were still upon this Earth,
they would have been most likely to sigh...

[Lightbringer]
What is really to be dreaded is...
[Grayscaled Princess]
...the desires of mortalkind...

[Grayscaled Princess]:
THE DIRECTOR OF THE THEATRE. 
SHE HAS INHERITED HER FATHER'S PLACE.

[Lady Stoneheart]:
SHE LIVES IN THE THEATRE, AND SHE CREATED IT.
REAL NAME: CATELYN STARK, NÉE TULLY.

[Lightbringer]:
AFTER LOSING HIS POWER, 
HE BECAME THE SHADOW OF A FLAMING SWORD.
THUS, HE CANNOT ENTER THE THEATRE.

[Fallen Queen]:
ONCE SHE WAS A WISTFUL, NAIVE RED-HAIRED DRESSMAKER.
SHE OFFICIALLY OBEYS LADY STONEHEART,
YET SHE IS WILFUL AND DEVIOUS.

[Grayscaled Princess]
Let us put some order and arrange this information...
Tempted to follow your heart, you thus turned evil...
Now I grant you permission to speak.
Please, give your account of when you entered this theatre...

[Oathbreaker]
The burden of what I have done is a curse upon me,
and, to be freed from said curse, I needed something...
I entered this place because I wanted to find
the missing ancestral sword of my forefathers...

[Servants]
Slaughter him, butcher him, and then devour him!
Smite the intruder with the worst of punishments!
Sentence him, sentence him, sentence him come what may...
Sentence him to torture, to scourge, to death!

[Oathbreaker]
Once I expected the worst, having lost my every hope...
The tall, blue-eyed maiden drew her sword and she fought for me...
[Oathkeeper]
I would not forgive myself if I left you to die...
[Oathbreaker]
And thus, she became the Oathkeeper...

Right-handed Oathkeeper...
Left-handed Oathbreaker...
The replacement vessels have not awakened yet...
Concealing their true intentions within their hearts,
the two unassuming intruders.

Grayscaled Princess, Lady with a Heart of Stone,
Lightbringer, Faithful Servant, God of the Deceased...
When everything comes to a bitter end,
¿who will be the ones to laugh at the end of the day?

[Green Dreamer]:
Lulila, lulila, lulila-lila...
Erratic heartbeats in dreams of things to come...

[Oathbreaker]:
SEEKING THE ANCESTRAL SWORD BRIGHTROAR, 
HE ENTERED THE THEATRE.
REAL NAME: JAIME LANNISTER.

[Oathkeeper]:
SHE IS A MAID AT THE THEATRE,
BUT SHE DOES NOT WANT TO CHANGE HER PLACE.
SHE IS THE INCARNATION OF A LOYAL, BRAVE KNIGHT.

[Faithful Servant]:
SHE IS A MAID AT THE THEATRE,
BUT SHE DOES NOT WANT TO CHANGE HER PLACE.
SHE IS A SPIRIT RELEASED FROM HER MIRROR PRISON.

[The God of Many Faces]:
ONE OF THEIR FACES IS THE STRANGER.
STANNIS BARATHEON MET THIS DEITY IN THE AFTERLIFE.

[Green Dreamer]:
HE RESIDES IN THE DREAMLAND OF THE GRAYSCALED PRINCESS.
STILL UNIDENTIFIED.

Friendship, trauma, justice, illusion, 
hope, destruction, dreams, lust, love, death...
It all keeps on dissolving, mixing, returning
in an ominous lullaby...
Right before he died, lonely as he was,
he created a theatre...
That "best of all worlds" he desired that much,
will it be fulfilled someday?

Come on, let us play our parts
in this mummery known as
"life..."



Oh, the Green Dreamer is Jojen and the Fallen Queen is Sansa. The Faithful Servant is Cersei. And some more Jaimienne here to contrarrest the Lannincest and Renlienne in previous installments...
Hope you like my Westeros take on the Evillious Chronicles... The Westerious Chronicles!!!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

SEVEN SINS AND SEVEN PUNISHMENTS

JAIME:
Thus, let us begin!


JOFFREY:
Seven flowers are dancing a quadrille,
sins that have been finally set free...
Covering, concealing their lurid reality...
sinking into pleasure found in others' pain...

WYMAN:
Seven seeds are descending one by one,
they will surely sprout and then grow strong...
Even the whole Known World will be dissolved
in the powerful acids within me...

CERSEI:
Our Reign of Iniquity, founded on golden rocks,
will never crumble, falter, or fall...

The vessels of evil, once released
by cursed siblings who were the children of siblings,
what kind of tale will they make unfurl?
Seven Sins and Seven Punishments...

OBERYN:
Drifting away on seven breezes,
a lethal poison pervades the Known World...
All of the guilty ones are unable to sleep well tonight,
regretting a sin of yore that was not...

PETYR:
On the waters of seven waterfalls,
the reflection is the face of a loved one...
Yet the reflections always differ, and yours is not the only one...
If only they did not exist...

STANNIS:
Within the Lightbringer's throne room under ground,
thus, let us now begin this mummery known as a "trial..."

Everyone seeks to attain
what he or she calls "the best of all possible worlds..."
To which outcome will their desires lead?
Seven Sins and Seven Punishments...

BRIENNE:
Is it the song of the flames I hear? Can I hear it?
No, 'tis the cold steel of vengeance...

The vessels of evil, once released
by cursed siblings who were the children of siblings,
what kind of tale will they make unfurl?
Seven Sins and Seven Punishments...

OMINOUS LULLABY #7

Lulilala, lulila-lara...
Lulilala, lulila-lara...

Lulilala, lulila-lara...