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A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover

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Crake said:
Did you not say the bare bones would be finished by the end of the 4th month, and the Outer Wings finished barring any decoration by the end of the 5th?

It seems to me everyone has delayed a move into the palace proper, because the Keep is comfortable and homey instead of somewhat desolate and covered in workmen. I'm sure priority was given over to the areas where people would actually be gathering in greater number for ceremonial purposes, anyway.

And we still gotta loot all that sweet, sweet gold from the Lannisters for the greater portion of all that gilding and glitter.
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That is true. Possibly the most satisfying part of the conquest. Lannister gold gilding our everything.
 
DragonParadox said:
so you have Varys engage in what is probably some sort of bureaucratic misdemeanor to pick up the paperwork for him to sign
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yfw you realize Viserys while disguised would probably wait in a queue like some kind of normal person instead of cutting to the front of the line.

Though I imagine he circumvents most queues as himself by just... having people to go get him things.

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Canon Omake: Mother's Mourning
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    • Mother's Mourning​

    First Day of the Fourth Month 294 AC

    Catelyn Stark's eyes took in the slowly fading back of Viserys Targaryen, there and gone again, almost in a flash... though it had been hours in the passing, and much like a black cloud covering the face of the sun he was gone again. The grief had returned swifter still in place of anger and indignation.

    The worst was yet to pass, in truth for all the aid the King had promised, she could still somewhat resent how easily that title came to mind without much internal argument from her. Less still than Ned experienced even now, though the man sat in cold silence she knew the tensing of his shoulders and the trembling of his hands showed he was a small figure rocking in a storm. An inner turmoil leaving him just as shaken as she was. Years had passed but she knew a glassy eyed stare from sheer stoic frigidity.

    Yet the resentment did not linger long, and glad would she be to stew further upon it, but she could not. They had left her with nothing but the promise of pain and dread in their wake and could not undo reality, what she knew in the world that was; The curtain being drawn over life, not through all their mighty powers at their beck and call, and she knew that was a message to her.

    From what? Even now, she did not know.

    But Catelyn did feel a flash of something else, and felt all the worse for it. Even learning that Ned, honorable Ned Stark, had been faithful to her all along, all these years... that the truth had come out at last, and it had thrown her through a storm of so many varied emotions, nearly overrunning the grief and leaving her numb with shock. Anger and fear for her children trailing closely, for her still living children. That he had shielded Lyanna's son all these years and said nothing.

    For good cause, she knew, part of the reason she had carefully prodded him toward neutrality and ultimately fealty to the Dragon was for the sake of her family, that Baratheon would take his grudge to the grave with him and would have dragged along Ned anyone else foolish enough to follow him to war. Instead, she prioritized that she had always placed first above all.

    Family. Duty. Honor.

    It all seemed so laughable now, terrible and fell, like a phantom that lingered and occupied the space in her heart. The space that belonged to poor, sweet Robb, taken away from her by thieves and horrors in the night. But the monsters were real and he was not at peace, might never be at peace again. She did not even have that cold comfort, instead he was somewhere alone and scared.

    Yes. Catelyn Stark, somehow, still felt gratitude that Viserys Targaryen had offered to take Jon Snow away from Winterfell at last, as though the last shock was all it took to accomplish a task she had set for herself all those years ago. Perhaps she might for all the world had better set her mind upon climbing to the summit of the Mountains of the Moon, with but her bare hands alone.

    Ned had offered the King no argument.

    Somehow, she thought, that made it worse.

    "Cat," he spoke up softly, catching her gaze which had sunken to the ground had dared not lift up to take in the world around her. To return to the horror that had become her life, but she knew she must, because she had a duty and she still had family, however much it had dwindled.

    "When I spoke..." he paused at each word, falling from his lips like leaden stones, "Spoke to Jon, he said he did not blame you... years he knew, knew the truth of his parentage, knew he was not a..." he trailed off, before gaining strength just as she was about to reply, "He said that he knew you loved Robb, and that was enough. That it would always be enough for him." His hand gripped hers as he leaned closer. "And I agree. You are not to blame for Robb's death, anymore than he is. This... this crime," the anger in his voice dwarfed mute shock she felt, that Jon Snow had even thought to mention her at the last. "It is on Them, and upon Them alone should the punishment fall."

    Alas, his anger was a brittle thing, however, his sad eyes closing, head shaking.

    "How can it be so easy?" Her voice shook, barely above a whisper. "How can I blame a thing I did not even know truly existed before now? Not in anything more than rumors in dusty halls and old wives' tales, to scare children into behaving, I once thought?"

    Never had she felt more stupid in all her life, but she had to give voice to the thought, could not allow herself not to face them. "I could have told them those stories more, a hundred times over to Robb and Sansa and Arya. Maybe it would have saved them, for all the things I've spoken to them it would have been of more use than embroidery or courtesies." Tears fell from her eyes, but she held her head up still. "I did not do enough, as a mother and as a Lady of Winterfell, and I shall have to live with that knowledge until the day I die."

    Ned had no more words of comfort or her. She saw him search for them, desperately so, but she knew he could not even comfort himself.

    ***​

    She stood upon the threshold of the Sept. She had almost had Ser Roderick order the men to cart out the statue of the Stranger, she had struggled with the notion four times before she even deigned to step over the threshold.

    In the end, the idea of sacrilege was just barely enough to stop her, worse still she thought the omen of it alone would have been enough to cause some new tragedy to come to pass. She could not bear the thought anymore than she could the idea of never stepping foot within the only Hall where she might find some cold comfort.

    She did have it covered with a woolen sheet, however, as she could not stand to look up at that hooded figure, the one who was supposed to take men who fell to the scythe of time into gentle repose. To the swing of a blade in battle, or any other manner of unkindly passing that could sweep a person away almost in an instant.

    She had heard stories of children passing in their sleep, with no sign of anything wrong with them. Yet, somehow, the suddenness of it had not prepared her any more for the idea that such a pivotal piece of the puzzle that was Catelyn was now missing. Possibly forever and more, unto death itself.

    The Father could not offer judgement onto the crimes of the Things that had come into her home, had taken her child from her. That had tried to take all of her children away from her, and her husband, household, everything. The closest she had come to justice was Viserys Targaryen promising them utter madness in a single breath. Speaking of casting down the halls of the dead like one vows to lay siege to a single castle, if not in so many words, and not explicitly for Robb.

    Even the Dragon had seemed resigned to his fate.

    She looked at his stern face above and then she looked away.

    The Warrior had stood as a guard who had lapsed at his post, and though his virtue had been in evidence in a boy, young as poor Robb as the day he left this world of form. Jon Snow's bravery had only saved Winterfell and the Starks who drew breath. Valor had been there in his heart, it had been in Ned's heart as he ended the threat to the Keep with an ancestral sword thrice hewn. Yet in its name lay a mockery, Fire had clashed with Ice yet ice had still won in the end.

    She gazed upon the visor-covered visage above and then she looked away.

    The Smith had not had his hand in the wards that had apparently been protecting her family unaware, even if he were, what had failed before the material and immaterial harm done unto her and hers. Could no more be called divine as she had known it than the frightening presence in the Godswood that to this day she hesitated to go near. If the gift of protection, of stone and mortar, of shelter, had not been withheld from those in need as the Faith decreed, it had at least been found wanting.

    She stared at the inquisitive, contemplative visage of the inventor of ironworks and walls stouter still, and then she looked away.

    The Maiden, beautiful and innocent, speaking to the youthful grace of ignorance, the peace of a child unknowing of the pain that awaited them as they aged. Nor how easily such horrors could be invested upon them, with no preconceptions or expectations of the world, how unfair it all was. Robb was a sweet boy, who could love a quiet bastard where she could not and name him brother even though he wasn't. And now he was gone and his youth had done nothing to shield him.

    She looked upon the face that reminded in a flash almost of Sansa, for all that the likeness seemed to almost take after that of a young woman, just barely nine and ten of age, a stranger in a strange land with innocence torn and had a slice of home place there just for her.

    Again, she looked away.

    She skipped past the Crone, she had not availed herself to wisdom when it would have counted and it would change nothing to dwell on it now, she decided all in a flash, wheeling to stand before the shrouded Stranger, its silhouette almost more pronounced in the dim candle-light, taunting her, perhaps. She sobbed, long and loud, but eventually she turned away.

    Finally she prostrated herself before the Mother. What else could she do? She had found no mercy here and could not find it in herself to seek forgiveness. She looked at the figure who charged her to keep her loved ones safe, to stand in the reflection of her failure and the knowing of it to be true at last.

    Queen Rhaella was kind to her, commiserative, but what could she have done to halt Rhaegar's madness? She thought. Nor the Mad King's, and she hadn't herself to blame for the terror her daughter had become. Her kindness was like hot wax, melting down your back, reminding you that others have had it so much the worse and climbed back up from it, but she could not even begin to imagine, to work backwards from a woman set adrift and losing everything, a mother who stood before the fruits of all her prior efforts, avenged and vindicated and proud at last.

    I could not foresee this, and indistinct voice seemed to say, so quiet it was not even a whisper, so faint Catelyn could not determine if she had spoken aloud at all, no one could, not us, not the Old Men on their wooden thrones weeping blood, and not the Dragon.

    I am sorry.

    That, too, made it worse.

    OOC: Another great character piece from @Crake. I just added a few words.
     
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    • Very nice omake, lots of feels of a mother who realized her errors too late and feels like a failure for not being able to protect her child.

    Would be super ironic if Cat became the Chosen of the Mother after this, or maybe not. Since is it not the sign of a good mother to grieve for children unjustly taken away but still care for those that remained as best she could?
     
    Massgamer said:
    Very nice omake, lots of feels of a mother who realized her errors too late and feels like a failure for not being able to protect her child.

    Would be super ironic if Cat became the Chosen of the Mother after this, or maybe not. Since is it not the sign of a good mother to grieve for children unjustly taken away but still care for those that remained as best she could?
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    It's hard to argue who would be a good candidate going off how little @DragonParadox has really shown us of the Seven's motives, or why the Mother alone has held back on creating a Chosen out of all the Seven.

    There are so many mothers in Westeros who have a deep and abiding love for their children, but how many have the kind of strength of conviction and wisdom to carry that conviction to its logical destination while remaining faithful through all the pain and horror in the new age?

    Is forgiveness more important than mercy? You can give mercy a lot easier than you can give or receive forgiveness. Catelyn has the deep, abiding, 'never say never' love of a mother, but that's just one of many who will always support their kids no matter what and shield them from the world if they can, even Cersei qualifies on that merit alone.

    The qualities must be harder to find, someone willing to use magic on the scale it needs to be used but with the virtue it needs to be used with.

    Edit: Then again, this is a transformative moment for Catelyn, perhaps.
     
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    I am personally hoping she doesn't break under this pressure.... But hardens from it.

    Takes in the bitter hatred for the others that took her children and let's it burn to a cold fire.

    The others may have taken one child but they shall not take another....

    I am just kind of picturing her taking this idea and running with it... After she manages to stand with her grief I hope she can take it and forge it into a weapon to strike down the others or a shield to take the blows soon to strike the north....
     
    We're at the tail end of any relevance for it, so it probably will be.
     
    Cat was low-key The MILF IN THE NORTH in the books, does beauty translate to high charisma here? Wondering in case she ever gets stats.
     
    Azel said:
    Which is precisely why I want to keep it buried. The remaining Chosen off-screen, Danelle firmly on the Feywild bus, etc.
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    Yeah, I don't want to have to deal with anymore Chosen. Too much salt in the thread and doesn't serve that much narrative purpose now. We could see the Mother whispering to a loyal follower as just that; a whisper and a comfort before we drastically reduce the Seven's power.
     
    One thing that surprises me about this is that the seven and the OG didn't have the time or ability to react. I wouldn't expect them to be able to do much this far from their places of power, but I figured that worshipping a god included some sort of more or less explicit duty for them to at least try to shield your soul after death.

    Did the Stranger actually not bother, or was he not capable of doing anything?
     
    BronzeTongue said:
    One thing that surprises me about this is that the seven and the OG didn't have the time or ability to react. I wouldn't expect them to be able to do much this far from their places of power, but I figured that worshipping a god included some sort of more or less explicit duty for them to at least try to shield your soul after death.

    Did the Stranger actually not bother, or was he not capable of doing anything?
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    In this case I think the Stranger just didn't bother, while the Old Gods were distracted in the South.
     
    Duesal said:
    In this case I think the Stranger just didn't bother, while the Old Gods were distracted in the South.
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    Maybe the seven are our route to saving Robb here then. If he was a worshipper of theirs then they have a pact primeval backed lien on his soul. For us that might not mean much, but a death god actively invoking it can probably do a hell of a lot with it - especially if we work up some other connections to support the effort.

    I'm not sure if it can be invoked in this way, but it's worth looking into at least.
     
    BronzeTongue said:
    Maybe the seven are our route to saving Robb here then. If he was a worshipper of theirs then they have a pact primeval backed lien on his soul. For us that might not mean much, but a death god actively invoking it can probably do a hell of a lot with it - especially if we work up some other connections to support the effort.

    I'm not sure if it can be invoked in this way, but it's worth looking into at least.
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    Unfortunately for Robb he worships the Old Gods, not the Seven.
     
    It's worth keeping in mind that the Seven are the gods of man, they act mostly though nudging the paths of their followers not grand miracles. the Old Gods are more overtly magical because they are the gods of the Secret woods of the Dawn Age when the earth and sky sang with power, of dreams and even of magic itself.

    Writing interlude now.
     
    Catelyn as the Chosen of the Mother, goes cold-hearted with plots of vengeance earning her the moniker... Lady Stoneheart!

    :V
     
    After reading this Omake, I'm mostly baffled. Why is Cat suddenly questioning her Faith? I'd have expected her to double down on it after her son's death (or at least to pray for his soul or something). And it's not like the Seven are to blame for this, are they?
    I'd actually have thought it more likely for her to be resentful of the OG, in the same "take Arya's divine boon away" sort of logic.
     
    TalonofAnathrax said:
    After reading this Omake, I'm mostly baffled. Why is Cat suddenly questioning her Faith? I'd have expected her to double down on it after her son's death (or at least to pray for his soul or something). And it's not like the Seven are to blame for this, are they?
    I'd actually have thought it more likely for her to be resentful of the OG, in the same "take Arya's divine boon away" sort of logic.
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    Because they didn't do anything to stop it from happening. Catelyn is kind of angry at everyone at the moment, including herself too.
     
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