MUCHO RUIDO POR LAS NUECES

 MUCHO RUIDO POR LAS NUECES

Una anécdota de la niñez de los hermanos Baratheon 

inspirada en el poema "Les nous del berenar"

para el proyecto #CuantoPudoHaberSido

En un claro del frondoso bosque de dioses de Bastión de Tormentas, hay un nogal que ha estado allí durante décadas, tal vez siglos. Tal vez desde la época de los Durrandon, predecesores de los Baratheon. Un árbol caducifolio que ahora, en otoño, está comenzando a amarillear las hojas y cuyos duros frutos van cayendo uno tras otro por su propio peso, por delante y a los lados de la inscripción que desde hace un lustro se puede leer en medio del tronco:

STEFFON BARATHEON

y

CASSANA BARATHEON, NACIDA ESTERMONT

Después de que las olas vomitaran los cuerpos de la desgraciada pareja sobre las costas, fueron enterrados debajo del tronco del nogal, y sus nombres grabados en una placa en la corteza. A los pies del nogal discurre una fuentecita, no envenenada por la presencia de los difuntos y sí que también ha estado allí desde los tiempos de los Durrandon; se dice que la diosa Elenei, fundadora de aquel linaje de antaño, la hizo brotar para regar el bosquecillo sagrado del hogar de su marido, dejando a la flora y a la fauna del lugar libres de sed.

Tres varoncitos huérfanos de negros cabellos y azules ojos, el mayor frisando la adolescencia y el más joven de cuatro o cinco primaveras, van cada tarde a merendar juntos en este claro: tienen qué comer, qué beber y la sombra a su alcance inmediato. La copa del nogal, frondosa y esponjosa, les cubre mientras recogen nueces y rellenan sus tazas de agua, como las enaguas de una niñera o el plumaje de una gallina clueca.

El pequeñín se ha llenado el regazo de una docena de nueces, que ha cogido ansiosamente. Se vuelve a sus hermanos mayores, que están llenando sendas tazas, y se dirige a ellos con los labios haciendo morritos:

--¡Quiero cascar mis nueces, las mías, aquí y ahora!

El hermano mayor de los tres, que por cuestiones de mayorazgo se ha hecho con el liderazgo, responde intentando controlar su ira:

--Si quieres, Renly, ya te las casco yo... Tú no, porque ya sabes lo que nos ha dicho la Nana antes de salir: "Renly es demasiado pequeño para la piedra de cascar nueces. Cuando intenta cascarlas, se golpea la punta de un dedo..."

--No te lo creas, Robb --el pequeño Renly responde haciendo morritos--. Ahora cojo la piedra sin ningún dedito debajo.

Los otros dos le miran: Robert echándose a reír a todo pulmón hasta que se atraganta y se pone a toser el agua que se le fue por la tráquea; y Stannis, el hermano mediano, dando un sorbo de su taza todo serio pero con una mirada escéptica.

--¡Robb es un tirano! ¡Sólo por ser el mayor tiene siempre que tener razón y hemos de hacer lo que él quiere! --Renly, con lágrimas en los ojos, chilla esto mientras salta una y otra vez y golpea el suelo del bosque sagrado con sus piececitos de cuatroañero calzados con botines. En medio de su rabieta, todas las nueces se caen de su regazo y se desperdigan por el suelo cubierto de hojas de otros árboles caducifolios.

Robert, en respuesta al berrinche de su hermanito, le vuelve enérgicamente la espalda: --¡Tú siempre con tus saltitos y tus rabietas!-- Luego exhala con todas sus fuerzas, sin mirar por encima del hombro e intentando mantener la serenidad, algo que siempre le ha presentado dificultades.

Mientras tanto, Stannis ha estado mirando a sus hermanos de reojo. Viendo cómo Robert abraza el tronco del nogal con todas sus fuerzas y da tres o cuatro profundas respiraciones para calmarse. Viendo cómo Renly, pataleando en el suelo en su danza de ira, casca sin saberlo las nueces que le han caído al suelo. Los dos están demasiado ensimismados mientras el hermano mediano, sigiloso como un gato, se acerca a Renly sin temer nada, coge cada nuez cascada que ve en el suelo y que el pequeñín ya tiene a cierta distancia... Stannis coge cada nuez cascada, se la lleva a los labios, nota el agradable crujir y se la traga. Una tras otra tras otra tras otra... y nadie le ha prestado la más mínima atención. No se jacta de ello; es discreto y prudente y nunca ha encontrado seguro vanagloriarse de nada. Puede que sea el hermano mediano, pero es el único con sentido común. Y ese buen sentido es lo que le hace evitar las meteduras de pata.

NIHIL NOVVM SVB SOLE

NIHIL NOVVM SVB SOLE

La idea de este song me vino de un tal Víctor Manuel. Las vidas cotidianas de los Baratheon de Rocadragón... nada fantástico, nada sobrenatural, sólo Shireen haciendo de las suyas.
El monstruo del armario, Moby Dick, el champú en los ojos, la vacuna del tétanos y la difteria, las dificultades para encajar en clase... hasta el primer amor (Rickon, notch) y la sangre en la ropa de cama; en el momento que Stannis y Selyse finalmente aceptan que la vida ha de seguir su curso.
(Este relato sigue inacabado, pero sólo faltan la mitad del penúltimo y el último capítulo)

https://www.reddit.com/r/asoiaf/comments/35v3qa/spoilers_all_suitors_for_shireen/

TRES VECES S. BARATHEON
Ya antes de que viera la luz del día, ya antes de que mi esposa empezara a tener las primeras arcadas, ya habíamos soñado con ella (aunque no sabíamos si sería él o ella). Un flequillo negro como la medianoche con reflejos azulados, del típico color ala de cuervo Baratheon, con los ojos celestes a juego, pero con los rasgos angulosos, marcados, de una Florent; así la habíamos visto en sueños, durante un año antes de tenerla en brazos. Lo que sí decidimos fue que compartiera nuestra inicial: S. BARATHEON - S. BARATHEON bajo la ranura de las cartas no podía ser mera casualidad, y dicen que todas las cosas buenas van de tres en tres. Si fuera varón, se habría llamado Steffon, como el abuelo paterno al que nunca conocería y, de haber coincidido en la misma realidad, le habría enseñado más de una valiosa lección. "Y si es niña, Shireen: significa 'dulce'", añadió mi Selyse decidida. Al fin y al cabo, las probabilidades de un caso o de otro son iguales a la de que salga cara o cruz. En un principio, pensábamos que nos había salido cruz, con la fiebre y los sarpullidos de la varicela que prendían fuego a su cuerpecillo de tres o cuatro meses; pero era una Baratheon entrevesada de Florent: resistió a pesar del calor y del dolor, consiguiendo así la primera victoria de su corta vida. Y, desde entonces, encima de la ranura se puede leer tres veces S. BARATHEON.
He aquí los momentos que siempre recordaremos; algunos los contará Selyse y otros los contará un servidor, y habrá los que contemos entre los dos, dependiendo de qué experiencias se trate.

CHAMPÚ EN LOS OJOS
En la botella pone "no llores más," pero a Shireen le siguen picando los ojos. "No se tocan ni con los codos", le hemos dicho, y, en respuesta, ella volvió sus coditos hacia dentro e intentó rascarse con ellos. A Shireen le divertía; a mi marido y a mí nos pillaba por sorpresa, sin estar muy seguros de cómo reaccionar. De repente, ella estudia la botella de champú y, al otro lado, escudriña los ingredientes hasta soltar un A-JÁ que hace eco por todo el cuarto de baño. Ella señala un punto de la etiqueta, pegando saltitos para llamar nuestra atención, y exclama: "¡Ácido cítrico! ¿Por qué hay ácido en el champú?" Qué sorpresa...
Por un rato, Stannis se queda pensativo, hasta que se golpea la frente y dice: "Para ajustar el pH. ¿Sabes qué es el pH?"
"¿Qué es el 'peache'?" ella se hace eco de la misma pregunta.
"El 'peache' es lo ácido que es el champú".
"¿Y por qué tiene que ser ácido?"
"Escucha: papá es fiscal, no sabe tanto de ciencias como de derecho. Pregúntaselo a la seño mañana en clase".
La tarde siguiente, al volver a casa, la niña nos sorprendió diciéndonos que la Srta. Mordane no tenía ni idea al respecto. Pero sólo era la punta del iceberg... Aquella noche, Shireen se duchó, como lo haría todos los demás días hasta llegar a la pubertad, con gafas de nadar muy ajustadas; lo que le da, en mangas de bata, unos simpáticos ojos de mapache. Decía que eso impide que se le meta el aclarado en los ojos.

MONSTRUOS A OSCURAS
Muchas criaturas, a la hora de irse a la cama, tienen problemas con supuestos monstruos en lugares oscuros e inquietantes, como debajo del somier y/o en el armario. Shireen estaba convencida, hasta las ocho primaveras, de la existencia de dichos seres. En su cuarto, había dos monstruos del armario y un monstruo de la cama, según los relatos de nuestra hija en persona. Los del armario eran los más temibles; uno tenía forma de fantasmón semiesférico o de pera oscura y tendencias de montar encima de Shireen mientras ella dormía; la otra (era hembra), una especie de cruce entre serpiente alada y cefalópodo tamaño kraken, no se dejaba ver mucho pero dejaba entrever su presencia, que contagiaba a toda la habitación.
Y Shireen tenía una forma muy peculiar de pedir auxilio; despertándonos en la cama con un chillido que siempre por poco echaba por tierra el jarrón de Bohemia, recordando a una banshee o a... el caso es que era una frecuencia muy aguda.
Con el paso de los años, ut supra diximus, ella dejó de creer que había monstruos en su cuarto. De nuevo podíamos pasar las noches en paz; salvo que entonces la pasión entre nosotros se había enfriado, lo cual conllevó la consecuencia de que nuestra Shireen sea, por fortuna, hija única (de haber tenido hermanos, otro gallo cantaría).

CUENTOS DE IRSE A LA CAMA
Aún me acuerdo del día en que una Shireen seisañera me explicó que sabía decir "ballena" en varios idiomas, incluyendo en fiyiano y erromangoano (en ambos idiomas, es algo parecido a "peke nué nué"), además de preguntarme dónde se hablaban estas dos últimas lenguas. Tras responder a su pregunta e indicarle las islas correspondientes en el atlas, le pregunté de dónde había sacado esa información; ella señaló al Moby Dick de Austral de la estantería del salón, que había pasado "por estraperlo" a su cuarto y tenía escondido bajo las sábanas. "Estaba cansada de los cuentos de siempre", dijo, con la sinceridad que emplean los niños pequeños para expresarse. Ya había leído la etimología inicial ("hval", danés; "val", sueco; "hvalur", islandés; "Wal", alemán... hasta llegar al fiyiano y al erromangoano), así como los extractos literarios sobre cetáceos que abren el libro antes de la narrativa en sí ("La ballena es un mamífero sin patas traseras", según el barón Georges Cuvier), pero se perdió a la hora de meterse en la narrativa; "Capítulo Primero, Espejismos: Llamadme Ismael. Hace unos años, no importa cuántos exactamente, teniendo poco dinero o nada en los bolsillos y nada en particular que me interesara en tierra, pensé que me iría a navegar un rato por esos mares y ver la parte líquida del mundo..." Y ya se había enredado con tan pequeña letra y tan complicada sintaxis. De modo que un servidor le propuso contarle Moby Dick a su hija de modo que ella lo entendiera:
"Érase una vez un grumete llamado Ismael, un chico que navegaba en un barco llamado el Pequod. El Pequod surcaba los siete mares, arpones en ristre, disparando a las ballenas a diestro y siniestro..."
--¿Y por qué las cazaban, papi? Las ballenas no hacen mal a nadie. Comen gambitas muy pequeñitas...
"Era el siglo diecinueve. Entonces la gente no tenía reparos a la hora de matar a toda clase de animales, ya por diversión, ya para sacar algún dinero de vender sus restos. Las barbas, las costillas, la grasa: toda la ballena se aprovechaba en aquellos días. Los tripulantes del Pequod, en general, cazaban cetáceos para ganar dinero. Pero el capitán tenía en el punto de mira a un cetáceo en particular..."
--¿Moby Dick?
"Sí, Moby Dick, el temible cachalote blanco".
--¿No es el capitán el que se llama Moby Dick?
"El capitán, hija, se llamaba Ahab".
--Ajá. Ajá me parece un nombre raro para una persona. ¿Y por qué quería Ajá cazar a Moby Dick?
"Porque Moby Dick, al defenderse del arpón del capitán, le había arrancado una pierna".
--¿La izquierda o la derecha?
Sabía ya que la niña iba a preguntármelo. "La izquierda. Y por eso quería Ahab matar al cachalote blanco".
--¿Dime, papi... eso no es una venganza?
"Sí, es una venganza. Los marineros cazaban por dinero, pero el capitán buscaba solo a esa presa para vengarse".
--¿Y vengarse no está mal?
De nuevo, su inocencia de niña volvía a dar en el clavo. Hay cosas que los adultos no podemos ver pero que los niños captan en fracciones de segundo.
--Sí, vengarse está mal... por eso, cuando Ahab acabó con Moby Dick, el último coletazo del cachalote hizo naufragar al barco. Y sólo Ismael vivió para contarlo. Todos los demás se hundieron y se ahogaron.
Afloran recuerdos reprimidos durante décadas. De que mis padres nunca volverían de aquel viaje al extranjero con las velas desplegadas. Steffon Baratheon era el capitán Ahab, o Ajá, o como se llame. Ergo, llamadme Ismael. No Stannis, o papá, o el fiscal... llamadme Ismael.
Tragándome los sentimientos como siempre, le doy un beso de buenas noches en cada mejilla y apago la luz. Seguro que mi niña dormirá tan dulce e inocente como siempre. No le importará que el capitán se haya hundido con el barco, como siempre ha sido.

PATITA FEA (¡CUAC!)
Shireen tenía, y aún tiene, la mitad izquierda de la cara más pálida que la derecha, como si estuviera quemada, a consecuencia de la enfermedad que casi se la llevó en la cuna.
"No he hecho amigos", dice apática, tanto en el kínder como en primaria. "Los chicos de clase son como los patitos guapos que se burlan del patito feo", viéndose identificada con el cuento de Andersen.
"¿Y qué era el patito feo en realidad? Cuando volvió la primavera al año siguiente..."
Shireen suspira. "Un cisne, sí. Pero cuesta aguantar que los demás te den la espalda y se metan con una cuando somos pequeños".
Los niños pueden ser crueles y prepotentes, sí. Y que ella ansiara tanto crecer era de esperar. ¿Pero qué ha de hacer una madre con su hija acosada en clase?
Abrazarla, auparla, levantarle los ánimos, proponerle un juego simbólico, como el juego de las compras. Y decirle, tras comprar unas cuantas de sus frutas de madera, que yo también fui una patita fea, con orejotas de soplillo y el talle como un palillo. Pero eso me hizo aplicarme en mis estudios y ser fuerte, así que espero que también Shireen siga esos pasos míos. Y no tenía amigos hasta que conocí a un chico igual que yo, inteligente, serio, retraído, que se hacía el duro... Sí, era el mediano de tres hermanos huérfanos, y también un estudiante muy aplicado. Se sentía igual de solo que yo, nos conocimos a fondo, nos ayudamos el uno al otro en los estudios y contra los abusones...
A Shireen le brillan los ojos. Esa historia no tarda en levantarle el ánimo. Al fin y al cabo, la vida real ofrece retazos a los que los cuentos no tienen nada que envidiar.

LUNES AL SOL
¿Quién no se ha despertado un lunes por la mañana de un humor insoportable? También mi Selyse ha tenido sus momentos, por no hablar de nuestra niña. Al fin y al cabo, para un servidor todas las mañanas son mañanas de lunes.
Pero ahora toca hablaros de Shireen y de cómo pasaba los lunes por la mañana.
Íbamos un lunes de clase a casa, de la mano. La verdad es que echaba de menos el tacto de una mano infantil aferrando la mía de adulto responsable. No pude evitar pensar en Renly y en lo que costaba llevarle una década antes. Siendo huérfanos y estando yo demasiado ocupado con los estudios, consideraba una cruz llevar a mi hermanito a clase hasta que el mocoso se hizo mayorcito. Pero la peor cruz era que quería que conversara con él, y terminaba monopolizando toda la conversación, hablando con esa vocecilla aguda que sólo podía enervarme.
Por fortuna, Shireen es mucho más callada que Renly. Sin embargo, esto es sólo una regla general. Me acuerdo que un lunes... bueno, un lunes se repitió la historia, una década más tarde. Íbamos despacio, porque a pesar de ser lunes yo tenía el día libre... y normalmente era competencia de Selyse acompañarla. Tuve que cargar con todo el peso de la cruz mientras Shireen explicaba entusiasmada que le habían contado el cuento de Blancanieves en clase y lo habían escenificado con marionetas. Con una vocecilla aguda que me sonaba muy familiar...
La verdad es que muy rara vez le toca a mi esposo, para variar. Suele ser una servidora quien acompaña a Shireen a clase, y acostumbrarse a su forma de hablar no es nada difícil si nos conocemos como madre e hija. Es encantadora todo el rato.


EL PINCHAZO
Dos veces se vacunó Shireen, como todas las criaturas, contra el tétanos: a las seis y a las catorce primaveras. Fue poco después de que le contaran Moby Dick en la cama, cuando estaba en primero de Primaria, que oyó decir en clase que aquella semana vendría una enfermera para darles el pinchazo.
Y fue entonces cuando, a base de poner esa carita adorable y llorar y estirar de mangas, nos convenció para que le hiciéramos de carabinas. No soy muy amigo de los niños pequeños en general (Shireen es harina de otro costal; ídem Renly antes de que le despuntaran las hormonas), pero las damas de casa eran dos contra uno y, por ende, tuve que ceder; además, se había aplazado el proceso legal que coincidía casualmente con la vacunación de aquella clase de 1º. Además, sería una buena oportunidad para ver como eran esos compañeros que daban a la niña de lado y no podían hacerse amigos de ella... qué venía a cuento y qué era verdad en las historias que nos contaba cada tarde.
En fin, que llegó el gran día y estaban todos los niños de seis haciendo cola ante la sala donde estaba la enfermera. Shireen nos había pedido que la acompañáramos hasta dentro de la consulta de la enfermera. Un par de gallitos varones que hacían cola detrás de nosotros ahuecaron los brazos a modo de alas y cacarearon como gallinas. En respuesta, Shireen me tiró de la manga derecha y no supe cómo reaccionar. ¡La cara que puse, según mi Selyse! Bueno, será mejor pasarle el testigo a ella y que complete el relato.
Como Stannis os decía, puso una cara tan graciosa... la verdad es que no tiene mano izquierda para tratar con niños y esta situación le pilló desprevenido. Fue una servidora la que encaró a los abusones lanzándoles una mirada glacial, penetrante, sin palabras. Lo que sea por mi hijita. Ellos volvieron a ponerse a la cola, sin atreverse a volver a mirarnos.
Y al final nos tocó el turno, o más bien le tocó a ella. La enfermera se sorprendió al ver que acompañábamos a la niña... pero pronto lo entendió en cuanto le cogió el antebrazo izquierdo para introducir la aguja. En efecto, ver a Shireen debatirse para que no le pincharan...
"¡¡ANESTESIA!! ¡¡ANESTESIA, POR FAVOR!!"
No sabemos si era por la forma en que suena su aguda vocecilla cuando la alza o por el hecho de que ella, siempre tan serena, estaba teniendo una rabieta. Me acordé que de niña tenía la misma reacción a las inyecciones y la misma vena teatrera que me llevó a actuar en las obras del cole (aunque siempre eran papeles secundarios de cierta importancia: la muchacha bandolera en La Reina de las Nieves, una pastora en el belén viviente, el ama de cría de Julieta ya en sexto o Emilia en Otelo con el último fin de curso de mi paso por el instituto).
"Le ha salido a alguien que conocemos muy bien", comentó Stannis con la misma expresión de siempre.
"Sí, a una exagerada de las que lloran como magdalenas empapadas en café por un rasguño cualquiera..." Le guiñé un ojo mientras veíamos a nuestra hija corretear chillando y pegando saltitos. Se asía el antebrazo izquierdo y lloraba y se desesperaba por una única gota de sangre, pero todo se le pasó en cuanto la enfermera le secó las lágrimas y le puso una tirita para restañar el flujo. 
"Has sido una niña muy valiente". Ya había oído en mi vida esa frase a diestro y siniestro, especialmente en estas circunstancias. En cuanto le dieron la consabida piruleta en forma de corazón, sin embargo, Shireen nos sorprendió con esta inesperada respuesta:
"¿No me van a condecorar?"
A condecorar... y todos riéndose menos mi cara mitad, a quien oí murmurar por lo bajinis algo de enterrar la cabeza antes de preguntarle a la enfermera por el excusado de caballeros y, tras darle las gracias, dirigirse allí sin detenerse. ¡Las caras de los colegiales varones al ver a un fiscal trajeado entre ellos, usando el mismo urinario! La verdad es que aquella ensoñación, y el hecho de que la enfermera, señalando a la tirita, le dijera a nuestra niña que ya estaba condecorada, me mantuvieron de buen humor hasta que Stannis regresó a la enfermería y nos despedimos de ellas.
Aquella tarde, Shireen nos dijo que, según Rickon Stark, habían visto a un señor muy alto y bien vestido que se parecía a ella usando el cuarto de los chicos...
Déjame terminar a mí, Selyse. La verdad es que era por pura vergüenza que decidí ir a hacer lo que uno tiene que hacer, poniendo el grifo de fondo para facilitar la tarea. Había salido de Málaga para dar de lleno en Malagón, como dicen. No pude evitar abrocharme e irme de vuelta a la enfermería, sin secarme las partes nobles, al ver que había bastantes chicuelos esperando a hacer lo mismo...

¿HAS BESADO A OTROS?
El primer beso de un desconocido (de fuera de la familia), nuestra niña lo recibió antes de cumplir su tercer lustro.
Pero antes del beso ya había notado que estaba cambiando. Una mañana cualquiera de aquel año, al despertarse, pudo ver una gran mancha de sangre en su ropa de cama.
Aquella misma mañana al desayunar, puso delante suyo la enciclopedia de ciencias de la salud y la consultaba a la par que se llenaba de leche con campurrianas.
De pronto, los ojos se le dilataron, cerró el libro de golpe y, tras tragarse unas campurrianas con un buen trago de leche, nos pilló por sorpresa.
--¡HE PUESTO UN HUEVO!
Silencio total. Nos miramos, los dos esposos, el uno a otro.
--¿Lo queréis ver en mi cuarto?
Un poco preocupados y un poco intrigados, no pudimos decirle que no.
--Tiene forma de mancha de sangre... los huevos de humana son tan pequeños como puntas de alfiler, y siempre salen acompañados de mucha sangre, una vez al mes. --Al decir esas palabras mientras nos guiaba, pude ver que Stannis había cambiado de expresión una de las muy raras veces que lo hacía. Me acordé de mi propia primera vez, cuando aún me apellidaba Florent y me despuntaban las curvas. Como la única niña en una casa llena de testosterona --hija de padre divorciado, con dos hermanos varones--, mi caso fue aún mucho más difícil, pillando a los demás por sorpresa. Fue una época muy incómoda, de hacerme preguntas que siempre llevaban a otras preguntas... pero yo no quería incomodar a nadie y, siempre tan retraída, me tragaba todas aquellas preguntas.
Quitamos la ropa de cama ensangrentada para lavarla. "Es normal", le dije. "A tu edad, yo también puse el primero. Ya eres una chica joven, estás cambiando..."
Fue en primavera de aquel año, por abril, cuando le dieron el beso de marras.
...

IGUAL LLEGA QUE SE VA
... (Rickon y Shireen adultos forman pareja -ella vuela del nido-)

UPON OUR SKIN

Upon Our Skin

PiperSong

Summary:

An AU look at the Baratheon brothers where the skin of folk is adorned with the bonds of family and as they grow the ones they love.

Bonus chap for Shireen.

Notes:

un-betad, yada yada, apologies for any mistakes all my own. This fic did totally not go where I was planning, but I think it turned out alright nonetheless, this first part was done mostly together and the next chapter sort of separately as admittedly a bit of a rushed afterthought, which might explain any incoherency and the slight change in style. Apologies again.
Hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 1: brothers born

Chapter Text

brothers born

The brothers were different, later Cressen would say “as all brothers are”.  They were all born with blue eyes and a mop of black hair, but their marks, the marks of a family and sibling bond were not as similar as one might expect.  Robert, first-born and heir to Storm’s End was a loud and bawling babe with the stag of the Baratheons stretched across his right forearm as dark as his hair, proud for all to see.  It was only after holding the babe, his babe that Steffon realised he had a small matching mark on the inside of his wrist to match his son’s.  Cassana too had a match, though hers was discrete above her left hip, and the happy parents would always smile as they danced and those paired marks would meet. 

Stannis the second-born had two stags, one behind each elbow, though easy to spot on his pale baby skin they were the gray of ghosts, they were faint and in a position awkward for the boy to ever see himself.  They didn’t match either, not each other, with the right slightly larger and darker, and the left a stag with antlers more petite, and not the marks of his parents.  Steffon had another stag on his wrist, it was the same paler shade, but the shape was almost identical to the mark for Robert.  The same held true for Cassana when she noticed the extra stag upon her hip.  It was only later they noticed the tiny green sea turtle hidden behind his left ear, the same as Cassana’s, she too was born with hers.

Years later Cassana and Steffon found they had their final stag, a circle of three.   Renly was born with his stag prancing  across his right clavicle towards his neck, it reminded Cassana of her growing bond, the two prongs that grew and itched across her clavicles  and confirmed a love she had dreamed of.  It was Steffon’s mark that sealed the marriage though, a green sea turtle that covered the back of his right hand, there was little at all to interpret.  Growth marks were used for marriages and alliances, they looked the same as family bonds when finished but they itched and stung and hurt, they were not meant to be ignored.

They were though, more often than not.  Because marriage is not about love or happiness or even the will of the gods, it’s about security for the family and their name, advancement through the ranks of the gentry.  The maesters or septons and septas interpreted the marks to please their holders, to reassure them and offer the illusion that they are destined to be happy.  Not all had growth marks and for most that did they were vague; such as a flower that happens to be fair maiden’s favourite and a horse with colouring similar to the knight’s, or mayhaps the knight’s first horse,

- do you not remember the horse you had once, it looked like this, did it not?

- Aye, how could I forget?

- It is destined my love, the gods themselves agree, we are blessed

robert

 There were few with marks so clear and obvious as Steffon’s sea turtle, but the splodge of green with flippers could not be mistaken for anything else.  It was the same for Robert, he was but ten and six when the black direwolf began to grow across his chest, his mark the same as he; large, obvious and proud for all to see.  It was clear enough for Rickard Stark, the Northern folk held the marks in higher esteem than their southern counterparts, a potential match was only considered after an interpretation.  But this sign was enough that Stark did not wait for his daughter’s own mark to agree to a betrothal, why when there could be no other meaning?

It was soon after that Robert met Ned Stark in the Vale, foster brothers under the tutelage of Jon Arryn.  The two betrothed hardly met, hardly knew one another, though Robert showed the mark at the first opportunity and Lyanna for all her hopes of love and future happiness with the man that Ned assured her was the best man he knew…She felt nothing.  There was no burst of emotion, no thrill that over whelmed her, the tales and songs told so oft had lied.  He was charming though, and she found herself thinking that if she were to have a pair of antlers grow along her along her clavicles like his lady mother it would not be such a bad thing. 

Then there was Harrenhal and the disappearance of Lyanna, with rumours that her mark had started growing, that Rhaegar fancied it was a dragon.  Brandon with his howling wolf and his splash of water across his torso and left shoulder were burnt alive, nothing to the flames that consumed his father.

Robert fought, he fought Rhaegar and ended him, ended the man with the stars on his chest and the small dragon across his shoulder.  But there was no relief from the ache in his chest, the ache on his chest.  He raged against the family that caused the grief, he raged against his family for failing him, and found he’d nothing but rage left.  Ned had gone back North to his wife and family with his sister’s body and the child that he’d fathered, two babes to Robert’s heavy crown and painful chair.  Soon enough though, there was a marriage, and a babe, but not the ones that anyone had really desired.  He’d ordered the marriage, Arryn the man who looked at him like a son before but now had only pity in his eyes had advised this, this joining of houses between Baratheon and Florent.  The Tyrells would still have their power and Robert their loyalty, whilst the Florents expected the Lord of Stormlands through their grandson in return for their support. 

It didn’t turn out that way.

A son was born, but not to Selyse and Stannis, who was given Dragonstone not the Stormlands, instead to Delena.  Edric Storm, and Robert knows it’s another of his because another piece of the stag growing on his arm comes, the right antler joining the left and the two eyes.  It’s a strange and fragmented mark, and he had worried when the eye first appeared that Lyanna would disapprove, she had said nothing though it was clear enough for her to see when he showed her the wolf on his chest.  Cersei though, she scowled and scratched at it and hated all sixteen pieces that took to form it.  She hated it almost as much as the wolf.

He was betrothed again without quite realising it, for his behaviour didn’t change, he whored and drank and hoped that maybe someone else would do the king business.  Arryn was good at it, Stannis was good at it too even if he had ridiculous ideas like banning the whore houses.  Renly too was learning, though who from Robert knew not, the boy’s mannerisms and behaviour was from no father figure Robert had ever known and even further from Stannis.

Cersei was adorned in lions, regal and roaring, she had two birth lions she told him, and then one for each child.  He oft wondered where his children were on his own body, she told him they were on his head hidden in his hair, perhaps if he became more like Stannis perhaps others would see the lions there too.  Pycelle interpreted them, the position he told him was to show how they were always in his thoughts, his greatest concern were his children that’s why they were on his head.  Of course Robert nodded, it wasn’t true though, the thoughts he had most were where he could see them, and feel them.

It still hurt.

It would always hurt.

When the boar pierced through his skin, slashing the wolf, for all the pain, there was relief.

stannis

He envied Robert’s stag so clear upon his forearm.  Though his mother oft rubbed his ear and told him of the green sea turtle that hid behind there, Stannis wished that he too could have a stag where he could actually see it and where others could see it too, he was proud to be a Baratheon.  He asked Maester Cressen once why he had three birthmarks, the Maester looked at him and hummed and ahhed but could not give the answer, or at least one that satisfied him.  It was only later when Renly was born that it started to make sense to Stannis, he the middle brother had one for each.

He stood with Robert upon the parapet as the ship was torn apart by the waves, Renly was crying somewhere in the castle the Maester and the nurse tending to him.  It was stormy and the wind was violent, they’d been told even in good weather it was not a safe place to be, they had to be careful, to hold tight and not lean near the edge.  He stood there with Robert who roared and shouted and stamped his feet, gripping Stannis’ hand so tightly that it went numb and he just stood there, not saying a word.

Watching. His head filled with noise.

He didn’t hear a word Robert said, but it wasn’t the sound of the storm, it was the waves he heard, the only sound was the ocean fillings his parents’ screams.

It started during the siege, the prickling upon his shoulder blade, another place he could not see, he told no one, not even the maester, Cressen would only be too happy to interpret the mark and find Stannis his fated.  But he had done without the gods for six years, he wasn’t about to start again now.

The burning and prickling persisted and worsened, it was almost a welcome feeling to distract from the aching hunger in his stomach.  He was more irritable he knew, though it could just have easily been the hunger, that hunger that drove good men to treachery and wise men to consider the unthinkable.  It was the sailor-smuggler that saved them with his salted fish and his onions, it was such a relief, to sleep without the aches and pains of starvation.  Recovery was slow, and rations were still scarce but they made it through the siege and the war when Ned Stark and his men eventually came to force the Tyrell men down.  It had been a bloodless battle, or near enough when Stannis considered Davos’ left hand, he thought of the people of Storm’s End, his people.  Yes, a bloodless battle, but you would not have known from the number of dead.

Robert ordered his marriage to Selyse before the mark had finished growing, continuing its painful itch across his shoulder blade.  Stannis never told his brother of the mark, Robert had never thought he needed to ask.  He worried what it was, that all the people would see it at the bedding, see this part of him that even he did not know.  He thought little of the gods and their whims, but there were others who would care, who might even at the bedding halt the marriage and demand an interpretation. 

He feared what this mark might do to jeopardise his duty. 

He needn’t have worried.

By the close of that day, even Selyse had not seen the mark.

It finished growing in time and it did not hurt as much as he’d heard ignored marks were wont to do.  He’d near forgotten the mark, the ache it caused had dulled same as the hunger he’d once had, though he felt it sometimes it was near nothing to before.   It was during the Greyjoy rebellion that Davos brought it to the forefront of his mind, he had a cut to his back, superficial but the man insisted that if he were not to go to a maester he would at least let his most trusted man check for himself. 

With disgruntled reluctance Stannis removed his undershirt and forgot completely the mark that once prickled his skin.

Davos gasped despite himself “A ship?”

“Aye” Stannis replied as though this was nothing new, he winced as his skin stung where Davos’ fingers traced the mark.

“I’m sorry, I forgot myself, m’lord”

“The cut, Davos, how fares the wound?” Stannis snaps, he’s in pain that has nothing to do with battle.

Davos brings Maester Cressen, and he tells himself because it’s the wound that needs attending to, but another part of him knows had it not been for the ship with script so familiar, yet to himself unintelligible, he would have let Stannis be stubborn.  But his curiosity wins, and the Maester struggles to hide his surprise and hurt that this is something Stannis has not shared with him.  He tends to the wound in near silence, only to apologise for the pain he causes and admonishing Stannis for not having the sense to see him immediately.  He mutters something to the stubborn man who grits his teeth and mutters a reply, their voices too low for Davos to make out,

As he leaves he beckons Davos to him, quietly he thanks him, “Take care of him, Davos, you are more important to him than you will ever know.”  He says it as though Stannis should not hear these parting words, but looking back to the dark haired man with the ship now half covered in bandages, he knows that Stannis heard it all, he had the strangest feeling that the words meant more to Stannis than he could understand himself.

Stannis continues to ignore the gods, he has no time for them and remains unaffected, but the mark it still prickles and aches. 

He tells himself he’s ignoring that too, that it would make no difference.

But he’s glad for the prickle, he fears for the day when it might stop and there’d be only an ache.

renly

He’s the youngest of three, but he might as well be an only child for all the attention the household pays him.  And Renly adores it, knowing that he’s loved, by the cook who sneaks him extra sweets, by the nurse who sings him songs of summer and the tailor who makes him clothes that would be fit for a prince.  It is not what he wants though.

He wants Stannis to laugh with him and smile at his enactments, he wants Robert to come home and to stay home and teach him to use the war hammer that he talks of and he wants the parents he’s never known to tell him how proud they are, how much he’s grown.

Robert promises a great many things, he promises Renly a sister he will love, he promises to teach him as their father had, he promises to keep Renly safe.  He promises again before he leaves to fight.  By the time Renly is master of laws he’s learnt the weight of Robert’s promises.

They live through a war, Stannis and he and the household.  But it is nothing like the battles in the tales, there’s no thrill and glory.  Only hunger and sadness.  He sees Stannis training in the yard with determined regularity and he’s good, second only to Robert and his warhammer they say, but there will be no glory for Stannis, there is nothing the sword can do against the battalion that lays in wait outside their gates.  When Renly trains he holds the sword with distaste, it is not his weapon of choice.

It’s a common man who saves them.  For all his gratitude for the food Renly cannot help but wish that the man had thought to bring fresh fruit, sweet fruit like grapes and apples and peaches.  He holds his tongue though at the sight of Stannis and Cressen who tell him the news, the old man is frail but he’s smiling as though the fish and onions might be the best food in the world and Stannis doesn’t smile, he hasn’t in so long, but there’s relief.  Renly knows his brother feared for them, he never said anything though, not to anyone.  For all that Renly said, and he spoke a lot, Stannis said little in return, he spoke with actions and hard looks that required few words.  He had to concentrate when he was younger to understand Stannis, to pay attention to the subtleties that were so easily missed and harder still to interpret.  His brother hardly said when he was pleased or impressed, so Renly took care to make sure he could know despite it.

When they were to meet again in King’s Landing, Renly stopped looking, he didn’t pay attention to the stubborn clench of his brother’s jaw at Robert’s overruling, though the grinding and gnashing of teeth was hard to miss, he didn’t see the short quirk up of Stannis’ lip when he made a worthy suggestion nor hear the sardonic tone in comments levelled at Littlefinger.  No, because he’d decided long ago when Stannis had left him that he no longer cared.

He has a squire in time, though he knows he’s hardly a knight himself.  Loras Tyrell, from Highgarden, Mace Tyrell had suggested it, though Renly knew it was the Grandmother who pushed it forward.  He was loathe to take Loras from Highgarden as he was loathe to leave it himself, he fostered good relations with the family that had stood opposite himself on the battlefield.  He fostered good relations with many families those with and against the great rebellion, he was good with people, good at talking to people, he knew because they told him so themselves. 

A flower blooms on his left shoulder and though he’s ashamed to admit it his first thought was of Margaery.  But he knows the next time he sees Loras and feels the oft described prickle that there is only one explanation.  He both seeks out Loras and avoids him as he waits for the mark to finish growing, he watches to see if Loras too has these feelings, a mark of the stag.  But he cannot have Loras see him, they’re friends, more so than a squire and his Lord have any due to be, and Renly fears, irrationally he knows, what if Loras is not the same?  What if it’s all a grand misunderstanding and it’s Margaery after all?  He knows though, that if Margaery had any sign of a stag there would be no waiting on Mace Tyrell’s part, she would be put forward as Joffrey’s betrothed with little delay, the Tyrells were not subtle in their lust for advancement.

He tries to learn from the songs and histories about the great loves and how one might approach the other.  It’s all man and woman though, all so very simple you make a grand gesture of showing your beloved your mark and with a look of fated recognition they fall into your arms with unrivalled joy.

It’s Loras that makes the first move, they waited, perhaps in a mutual unspoken understanding, until he was knighted, Ser Loras Tyrell one of the best jousters in the land.  Renly wasn’t envious, and he revelled in the attention his handsome knight received, because he knew, that the handsome knight had eyes only for him.

shireen

It wasn’t an easy birth, but at least this time there was reward for all the struggles.  And perhaps Selyse was disappointed that the squalling babe wasn’t a boy like the silent children before her, and maybe she was fearful that her husband might not care for the child, might not care for her.  He did his duty yes, but what duty does a father have to a daughter beyond a convenient betrothal?  She had hoped that this child could help them, that she as his wife would give him the ultimate gift of life of an heir and he in the joys of fatherhood might soften his permanent scowl and speak the sweet words the songs had taught her to expect to hear. 

But she smiled at her daughter, calm and sleeping now as she held her waiting for her husband to arrive and decide upon a name, stroking her soft downy hair already looking the black of her father’s.  The babe had a fox behind her right ear.  “Ears befitting any Florent child” Selyse thought sadly as she remembered the teasing she had endured as a child.  But this babe,her babe was the daughter of a great lord, the Master of Ships, niece of King Robert Baratheon himself, there would be no children so bold as to tease a Baratheon about her ears. 

She clutched her daughter closer as she heard the impatient footsteps of her husband approach the chamber, he’s come faster than she thought he would, it was when Stannis stops outside her door that Selyse realised she saw no sign of a stag or even a sea turtle upon their daughter.  She looks at the child again, it’s an insult worse than being a daughter.

He waited in the solar continuing with the business of Dragonstone, he was of no use to the women and the maester, they would tell him when it was time.  If the wind blew right he could hear her cries, it was taking so much longer this time and he found his concentration lapsing, made evident by the angry scratchings upon the accounts he was trying to manage.  Was it a good thing it was taking longer?  This babe though early was older than the others, but those times it was the babes that had not survived, he feared that perhaps this time his wife might not. 

The noise stopped, though the wind might have changed.  Stannis returned his focus the matters at hand only to find his hands covered in ink and his quill irredeemably broken.  He gets up to clean his hands at the basin provided, but he doesn’t return to his desk when he’s done, he leaves the solar and heads towards his lady’s chambers. 

Cressen says nothing as he sees the young Lord with his face so determined, he was on his way to tell him, he smiles knowing there is only one way for the father of the child to have known before him. 

“They are both well my lord” he says without the preamble he knows would be wasted on Stannis, “both my Lady and your daughter.”

Cressen watches closely catch the twitch of a smile that crosses his face, only to stay there.

They stop outside the door, when Stannis finally delivers his reply.

“Good.”

It happens that the daughter has inherited her mother’s ears with the Florent fox behind the left and her father’s strong jaw.  Her hair is black like her father’s, but not so coarse, it’s finer and she’s grateful for the joy she sees her mother have in stroking and combing her hair.  She likes her blue eyes too, the same as her father’s Cressen says, blue Baratheon eyes and black Baratheon hair, she is her father’s daughter the old Maester often says. 

Shireen had a stag of house Baratheon too, it covered her cheek in the colour of her skin.  As a babe Cressen told her once it was only visible when she cried or blushed to make her cheeks red, then it would stand out and be seen.  She wonders sometimes if that might’ve been better, though she is not one to cry often now or blush if she can help it, her birth mark might not be easy to see but she would know it was there nonetheless. 

There is little point in wondering though, childhood illness that should have left her dead left her with only a cheek marred by dying skin that cracked and peeled and made the hidden stag bright and obvious.  She had learnt over time it was no use to hide her cheek and the mark that graced it. 

She was Shireen Baratheon, survivor of greyscale, of the Northern Winter and the beasts that accompanied it and bringer of peace to the war torn lands of Westeros.

 Able and just it was the white stag across her marred cheek that showed the people who she was, more than any Queen’s crown ever could.

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...