Friday: Book Titles

[reeby10.livejournal.com]

Hello, everyone! I’m reeby10 and unfortunately this is the end of my themes for the week. I hope you enjoyed them! Today's theme is book titles. Prompts can be a book title of any sort.

Just a few rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
Use the character's full names and fandom's full name for ease adding to the Lonely Prompts spreadsheet.
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing, or use the spoiler cut option found here.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space, or use the spoiler cut.
If there are possible triggers in your story, please warn for them in the subject line!

Prompts should be formatted as follows: [Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt

Some examples to get the ball rolling...
+ Harry Potter, Voldemort + any, How to Win Friends and Influence People
+ The Flash (tv), Cisco Ramon/Harry Wells, The Millionaire Next Door
+ any, any + any, My Best Friend's Exorcism

We use AO3 to bookmark filled prompts. If you fill a prompt and post it to AO3 please add it to the Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2017 collection. See further notes on this new option here.

Not feeling any of today’s prompts? Check out Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet 1 (not very current), Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet 2, or the Calendar Archives, or for more recent prompts, you can use LJ's advanced search options to find prompts to request and/or fill.

While the Lonely Prompts Spreadsheets and LJ's advanced search options are available, bookmarking the links of prompts you like might work better for searching for in the future.

Comments

[wrong-song.livejournal.com]

Any, any, The Way of Kings

No One Is Listening (GoT) 1/2

[purplemoon3.livejournal.com]

"Lady Sansa," Theon says in a hush, broken teeth and an even more broken spirit making each word a trial. Sansa removes her glare from the books that the late Lord Bolton couldn't be bothered to keep, and tucks it away to grace Theon with her Lady's Face. "The Karstarks are here."

Sansa nods and rises, her guards and Theon falling in around her as she makes her way to the Great Hall. Unlike the Red Keep, Winterfell's stones are as gray as the Northern skies despite a shared history of bloodshed. Sansa does not know which occurred first - the poison or the blade? What she does know she tells none but the maester with her words wrapped in delicately formed questions.

She never saw the killer's face: the Bastard of Bolton enjoyed taking her like the wolf-bitch she was. It was the wet warmth that pooled on her back, and the frantic, weak spasms of her dying husband's nails on her skin that let her know they’d an audience. Relief muddled the fear that held her heart hostage, the last blood of Bolton slowly sliding off the bed, and Sansa had resolutely not moved until she heard the unlatching of the lock and the old hinges creak.

The houndmaster's daughter's face had been abandoned on the floor by the door.

A handful of days later Roslin Tully had arrived at Winterfell with Sansa’s tiny cousin in tow and a tale on her lips.  Any other would believe the woman mad for even daring to think a Bolton free Winterfell would be welcoming to a scion of the Walder Frey.  Any other would hear her words -Winter came for House Frey, but my Cat is a Tully- and think them nothing but a weak woman’s delusions.

But Sansa is Lady of Winterfell, and when the ravens arrive in the weeks after her uncle’s widow telling how Lord Frey poisoned his own family during a feast celebrating Riverrun’s inevitable capitulation under siege she knows.

As Sansa enters the Great Hall she can see that the Karstarks are all bluster, and anger, and she holds a keep with little more than aged servants and green boys.  Her Lady’s face is as cold as snow as she takes her seat, Theon shuffling quickly to pull it out for her.  Behind them is a peasant boy, face wane and bruised as he tries to make himself small, but the box he holds with a possessive fearfulness brings warmth to her cheeks.  Sansa does not know what is inside, but raven arrived first, and she can guess.

“You’re late.”  Sansa says, addressing Harald Karstark.  “Raven’s were sent requesting oaths of fealty weeks ago.”

The man’s jaw clenches, and he covers it up with a disgusted sneer.  “We already gave our pledge, Lady Bolton.”

“Bastards inherit nothing, my Lord.”  Sansa says instead, and lowers her eyes as she remembers Margaery doing.  Margaery, who now rules in King’s Landing as Queen with an enraged, focused Tommen at her side.  “Not land.  Not names.  My husband was a Snow.  I am a Stark.  Swear to House Stark.”

He is tense and angry, and his own men shift and grumble at his side.  Next to Sansa, Roslin hushes little Catlyn by offering a tit to the girl.  Finally, Harald gathers his hate and spits it at her: “Whatever blood our Houses once shared, your own brother spilled, girl.  I’ll not swear to you - fuck the rumors.  There’s no ghost here but that reeking thing at your side.”

Sansa inclines her head to acknowledge the grievance and motions for the fearful peasant boy to approach.  She does not need the Karstarks.  The Umbers, Mormonts, Manderlys, and Reeds have all pledged, with promises of men to secure her hold.  Thirty bears have been sent ahead of Lyanna Mormont’s party and they man her walls faithfully alongside merfolk.

Re: No One Is Listening (GoT) 2/2

[purplemoon3.livejournal.com]

The Lord continues: “I say, to honor the debt your brother made, Winterfell should go to the only true Starks left.  The Karstarks.”

It is a threat.  One of her few men at arms takes the box from the boy, who dances on his feet in indecision before slinking to the shadows, and places it before her on the high table.  Sansa flicks her long, red hair over her shoulder negligently.  She begins undoing the complicated knots of twine securing the box while speaking, “I have been married twice over, this is true.  Winterfell and the North are still healing, this is also true.  But my father had a saying that was not our house words, and not a motto of sorts the smallfolk like to bandy about, but a simple statement.  There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.”

The lid of the box is set to the side, and a small smile turns her mouth as she lifts the contents free.  The hall goes quiet.

A wig of long, luxurious, golden hair spills out of the box.

"Well, assassination is natural causes for a king." - Granny Weatherwax, Wyrd Sisters

Re: No One Is Listening (GoT) 2/2

[wrong-song.livejournal.com]

Nice! I really like this. Seems like Arya is keeping busy. Thanks for the fill!