FIRST WE TAKE KING'S LANDING (THEN WE SMITE TYWIN)

The idea for this filk came after listening to the Cohen song closely and thinking of my favourite Dornishman. It's a bunny as old as three quarters of a year, but I was trying to make the words and the rhyme fit Oberyn's character arc, like solving a puzzle of which I only had got a few pieces, and was trying to find the others everywhere to fit them and get the big picture. At last, the puzzle is now complete.
This song is set around the Purple Wedding, and shipping Oberyn/Cersei (as my first Othello Westeros retelling proves) is involved. But mostly it's about Oberyn's thirst for revenge...
(PS. This filk was also written to illustrate my support of the Oberyn-poisoned-Tywin theory, in which I firmly believe.)

FIRST WE TAKE KING'S LANDING (THEN WE SMITE TYWIN)

A Westeros filk by Sandra Dermark

24th of September 2015

OBERYN:

They sentenced me to twenty years of boredom,

seized with the pain that rent me from within...

I'm coming now... I'm coming to reward them...

First we take King's Landing...

Then we smite Tywin!

I'm guided, not by signals in the heavens...

ELLARIA:

Guided...

OBERYN:

I'm guided by the colour of our skin...

ELLARIA:

I am guided by...

OBERYN:

I'm guided by the beauty of our weapons...

ELLARIA:

Ooooh...

OBERYN:

First we take King's Landing...

Then we smite Tywin!

CERSEI:

I'd really like to live beside you, by your side...

I love your body, and your spirit, and your clothes!

But you see the fair ones sitting by the bridegroom?

I told you... I told you...

I told you I was one of those!

OBERYN:

You loved me as a loser,

but now you're worried that I just might win!

You know the way to stop me...

but you lack the discipline!

How many nights I've prayed for this,

to let my show begin? 

First we take King's Landing...

Then we smite Tywin!

OBERYN & ELLARIA:

I don't like your war repression, mister...

and I don't like that rank that keeps you thin...

OBERYN:

I don't like what happened to my sister...

First we take King's Landing...

Then we smite Tywin!

CERSEI:

I'd really like to live beside you, by your side...

I love your body, and your spirit, and your clothes!

But you see the fair ones sitting by the bridegroom?

I told you... I told you...

I told you I was one of those!

OBERYN:

And I thank you for that pardon that you sent me... (Ironic laugh)

The Red Keep seems now pleased to let me in...

I've practiced every night... and now I'm ready...

First we take King's Landing...

Then we smite Tywin!

ELLARIA:

I am... guided...

OBERYN:

Remember me? I used to live for passions.

Remember me? I never reined them in...

Well, it's wedding day, and everybody's wounded...

First we take King's Landing...

Then we smite Tywin!

POST SCRIPTUM:

The first pieces of the puzzle I had were the following:

---FIRST WE TAKE KING'S LANDING (THEN WE SMITE TYWIN) (the title/refrain)

---They sentenced me to twenty years of boredom,

seized with the pain that rent me from within...

I'm coming now... I'm coming to reward them...

First we take King's Landing...

Then we smite Tywin!

---I'm guided by the colour of our skin...

---I'm guided by the beauty of our weapons...

---You loved me as a loser,

but now you're worried that I just might win!

You know the way to stop me...

but you lack the discipline!

How many nights I've prayed for this,

to let my show begin? 

First we take King's Landing...

Then we smite Tywin!

---and I don't like that rank that keeps you thin...

---I don't like what happened to my sister...

---I've practiced every night... and now I'm ready...

---Remember me? I used to live for passions.

Remember me? I never reined them in...

Well, it's wedding day, and everybody's wounded...

First we take King's Landing...

Then we smite Tywin!

Then I had to put the pieces together. The few pieces I had on my mind, plus thinking of the missing pieces and how to piece them together. The whole Oberyn part of the song being the Dornishman's secret rant for Tywin Lannister. The thoughts on his mind as he secretly laces his opponent's every drink. The whole plan meant to succeed even if Oberyn gets killed in that Clegane showdown.

A CLASSIC VORE COMIC

THE ARRIVAL OF SPRINGTIME

THE ARRIVAL OF SPRINGTIME
A Game of Thrones fic by Sandra Dermark (main ideas)

Yara Greyjoy marries Loras Tyrell of convenience, as agreed by Loras's older brother Willas, killed in action against Stannis Baratheon. Yara feels like a stranger in the Reach, wonders at everything...  They can't have any children (she's too cold and he's queer). Suggestions to adopt children. A young orphan Robin Arryn (last living Arryn) is found and adopted.
They understand the meaning of their engagement. Ironborn navigation + Reach power on land = great alliance. Both decide to take part in the war. Truce breaks. Loras as "Renly" stabs Stannis in right side during battle for Storm's End, won by the Tyrell-Greyjoy alliance. Wounded Stannis and few survivors, Meli included, flee to Dragonstone.
War council amidst the heroes. Loras stays at Storm's End while Yara aims for Dragonstone, where the last stand is going to take place.
At Dragonstone, the Fury has landed already. Stannis dying (pneumothorax, described in detail, he's also weakened by enchantments Mel has cast) on Painted Table. Mel can heal his wounds... with blood from Shireen. Relevant dilemma: his daughter's life or his own?
Storm's End: Loras thinking of Renly and of what to do after the war.
Dragonstone: Stannis still dying, confronted by deaths of Renly and countless "heretics", faith crisis. No longer the promised saviour. Selyse left him (for parts unknown) due to his relationship with Mel. Shireen has not received any love or care. Arrival of a military surgeon, with distilled liquor. Fighting with Mel, the flagon falls: part of the liquor falls through Stannis's lips, part on Mel's skirt, the flagon shatters and shards hit both of them. For the first time in his life, he is intoxicated, and he smiles. Incensed, he demands that Shireen be spared. Throws candlestick at Mel: skirt catches fire, whole priestess catches fire, Stannis takes her for Shireen and dies suffocated before charred Mel.
Shireen in bedroom listens: "Should we warn the child?" "We have no time to drape the halls in black. The foes are coming".
Ironborn land, garrison surrenders, return to birthplaces (Essos, Stormlands, Reach). Prisoners in dungeons (Stormlanders and people of the Reach) freed. Ironborn warrior discovers Shireen "maybe the daughter of some officer". Pictures drawn by child confirm she's Stannis's daughter.  Uprising: prisoners want to kill Shireen, prevented by Yara ("what would Loras do?"). Shireen arrives at Storm's End on the Fury, now captained by Yara. Encounter with Loras, who recognizes her Baratheon features. Shireen adopted and betrothed to Robin, both enjoy a happy childhood at last. Springtime has finally arrived in Westeros!

ALICE OF WESTEROS SACRIFICE - I

ALICE OF WESTEROS SACRIFICE - I

The first Alice was a gallant one.
Sword in hand, she entered Wonderland...

She was taller and more stalwart than any other maiden in all of Westeros. And, being the only child of a veteran warrior, she had been raised like a boy: taught to ride horses, swing swords, fight hand to hand. Brienne kept her flaxen hair short, and her freckled cheeks were rosy with sunshine.
She never married, for could there be somewhere a gentleman who would wed such an amazon?
She was born and raised on one of the Stormlands' vassal islands, coming over to the mainland to seek her fortune. Lord Renly Baratheon, her dark-eyed liege,  impressed by Brienne's prowess, made her one of his foremost warriors and the ensign of his company: the only lady knight so far in the Stormlands' history. Though the flaxen-haired lady knight felt her heart beat for Renly: the young lord was as pleased with Loras Tyrell as Loras was with him. Yet the lady ensign didn't feel the slightest twinge of jealousy. 
She stayed behind as Renly left for his sweetheart's birthplace, and stayed always faithful to her duty, until Storm's End fell to the hosts of the cold-hearted Stannis Baratheon in the absence of his younger brother. As she set off for the Reach and Highgarden, to call her lord to arms, Brienne saw villages razed, the godswood ablaze, the faith of the Lord of Light imposed with fire and sword.
The dark-bearded Lord Renly didn't hesitate, neither golden-haired and hazel-eyed Loras. Hailing their liege lord as their king, the warriors returned to their homeland, their hearts ablaze with confidence.
They encamped before the fortress as soon as they arrived, then lit a campfire for the leaders to gather around. Every warrior, even the lady ensign, hasted to quench his thirst and have a rest after the exhausting march from the Reach to the Stormlands.
That night, a tall and lean figure stabbed Renly Baratheon in the back and ran a sharp longsword through his chest. All evidence pointed at Brienne, even though her blade was free from blood stains. His mind clouded by sorrow and anger, Loras Tyrell at first accused the fair-haired lady knight of a heinous crime.
During the chaos that was the storming of the Baratheons' native seat, a tall and blond warrior in a blood-stained breastplate fled up north, into the darkest woods. Her blue eyes sparkled with confidence: she was sure that young Tyrell would recognize her innocence.
Ever since, tales have been told of a lady knight scouring the woods of that region, taking special delight in slaughtering troops led by Stannis Baratheon. She leaves a trail of crimson blood and slain soldiers in her path. Aside from her wake of blood and slain Baratheonian soldiers, there is no other sign of her existence.
She exists. She is still alive, still thirsty for revenge.

DIE UPON A KISS - ACT IV

Act Four: Doubt, Despair, and Dorothy’s Suspicions

I dreamt of blood last night.

I dreamt of death last night.

I dreamt that I fell by your side,

fatally wounded, last night.

You didn't notice that I fell.

Your face did serious stay.

Your steady hand then held my shield, 
and you kept onward, on your way.

They were standing upon a bastion side by side, the cloudy next day. Zechs looked weary, in stark contrast to Treize, who coldly made the next move with these words:

“Just a shot in the dark, but have you seen her lately with a lace-lined handkerchief?”

The commanding officer hadn’t seen her showing that first gift of his for a day, and he sincerely declared that so it had been. However, he was shocked, as if struck by lightning, by his second-in-command’s further statement:

“I saw Quatre Winner wipe his forehead with that kerchief”.

“Really?” Zechs burst out and grabbed Treize by the collar for a second time, but the appearance of Quatre himself (speak of the devil!) interrupted their argument.

“Now let’s ask that Quatre Loser about his fiancée”, Treize thought to himself. Zechs listened eagerly to their conversation, but he misinterpreted what he could hear.

“So you’re going to marry her?”

The younger officer laughed heartily. “Why should I?”, asked he taking out the kerchief from his breast pocket and waving it in the air.

“So that’s how things are”, thought Zechs, consternated, as he turned pale with Quatre’s statements of his feelings towards Dorothy, thinking that it was his own beloved Noin the stripling was referring to. Then, a few tears trickled down his cheeks and everything faded to black before his sparkling eyes: he collapsed on the floor, letting forth white froth onto the cobblestone pavement.

Then, surprised, Quatre approached his commanding officer, only to be reproached by Treize:

“It seems that His Lordship is suffering from a seizure. Now don’t move until he comes to”.

And Zechs came to half an hour later, only to behold his wife’s presumed lover and laugh coldly into his face, which made Quatre turn his back, worried about the commanding officer’s health and that crazy stare that he had given him as soon as he had come round.

Quatre encountered Dorothy in the courtyard, but his fair-haired fiancée was not in the mood for conversation: she had also seen Quatre with that lace-trimmed handkerchief of Noin’s. Therefore, restraining her true feelings, she turned her back on the young blond and replying to his “Why are you so cold today?” with a piercing stare. This made him think that it was a day out of the ordinary, when not many usual and expected things happen at once.

That evening, Zechs couldn’t sleep either. Neither could his wife find her lost handkerchief. She also wondered at his state of health, evident in the way he acted: no longer cool and calm, but stirred and restless, betraying intense internal agitation. So she gently and sincerely asked him about his feelings. This was, for Zechs, the spark that burst the powder keg:

“Shouldn’t you know it better yourself, you poisonous wildflower?”, he scolded her at the top of his lungs, holding back his tears and punching her in the middle of the chest. Then on he went with his false accusation, that surprised Noin and made her wonder about why it should be so.

Soon, a consternated Zechs spent all night long wide awake, disturbed by her steady pulse and equally steady breathing; as she had equally thrust her head upon his throbbing heart, that lulled her into innocently spending the night in her own dreams.

Next day, the clouds had flocked even more, as if to eclipse the sun. The weary commander had called for his right hand, and he was impatiently waiting for Treize to arrive. Finally, so it happened.

“And prithee, why did you send for me?”

“It is concerning the execution of those who keep my thoughts in check. I thought myself that I would rather be in charge of that lovable succubus”. Zechs seemed cooler than the previous day, but it was merely because he hadn’t slept for two nights.

“As for Quatre, let me be his undertaker”, replied Treize, in an equally cool tone that didn’t betray any sinister intentions.

The hours passed on, and that evening Quatre was charged again with guard duty. Looking up the brown-haired waiter and reminding him of Catherine’s injury wasn’t that complicated, and soon Trowa was persuaded that such an affront should be paid with the blood of the officer whose steel had pierced her flesh. Thus, he followed Treize, gun in hand, to the corner of a bastion, where Quatre was going to pass at any moment.

The brown-haired lad aimed for the blond officer’s left breast, squeezed the trigger and saw his victim collapse, unconscious, before his very eyes, only to feel the older officer place his gun’s muzzle in his very quiff.

“Anyway, you’re fully expendable”, Treize coldly said as he pulled the trigger and Trowa pleaded for mercy in a desperate, sincere tone:

“I didn’t know you wanted him killed! I did it for Cath...” then, a gunshot interrupted his last words.

From his office, Zechs heard the gunshots. “Treize has kept his word, and now I shall keep mine”, he thought upon leaving for his own bedchamber. But there was something within that made his resolution falter, and his steps turn less steady.

Noin also heard a firearm being discharged in the distance, and Lady Une reassured her she shouldn’t worry. The dark-haired young woman had stepped into her nightgown and was soon given a good-night kiss by her handmaid, who observed her hug her pillow and shut her eyes as she quietly shut the door.

Then, she encountered the commanding officer, who violently shoved her aside.