Blackwater By Amok

Blackwater by Amok

this is canon here is proof

Artwork by my friend. They ask please not to credit if reposting.

Fascinated by Stannis as this play on a legendary king, prophesied and aided by a witch, who like the culture heroes of the past, made up a character of himself through bravery of deed and illusions of magic. We see Joffrey’s court in his pageantry, associating his image with the wealth and prosperity of the realm, but it was interesting to see an older style of king. Balancing the fact that in this world magic is real, but that there is also a technological aspect to the establishment of his power—Stannis is the Prince That Was Promised, but only through Melisandre’s chemical and theatrical direction. So here is Stannis with his magic sword, blazing like a firework with Melisandre’s powders. A character loved by many not because he was destined, but because he did what needed to be done in spite of diminishing circumstances.

I think the Prologue chapter ornament of my copy of ASOS has a misprint. It seems to have layered the regular chapter ornament with some other chapter ornament from… somewhere (it’s not like any other in the series).

This is what all other chapter ornaments look like^

My question then becomes. What is that mysterious chapter ornament?! Where did it come from? What errata is this?

If anyone knows. Gimme a shout. My editon is the paperback I think 2002.

better luck next time, ser jaime!

Day 6: 5 year skip proceeds au

They elope in the night, fleeing into the darkness, into the forest, guided by the incessant howling of the wolves. 

It was an impulsive decision made out of fear of marching north, home, only to be separated again by stupid lords and their stupid games.

They take their oaths in the freezing air of a misty morning, under a big oak. The trees around them and the embers of the fire are their witnesses

They are not dressed in embroidered cloaks, but in tattered war banners and golden leaves. There are no wreaths of winter roses, wildflowers will do.

There is no silk gown to slip off, just old boots, rusty chain mail stolen from a corpse. There is no featherbed, deep and soft, just the grass crisp with frost.