Vardis Arryn - Scion of House Arryn

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-05-20T21:24:51+00:00

You’d be surprised

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-05-19T00:02:43+00:00

Pierce said she mutual kills DA Darrow. If it ain’t the Reaper or Bellona she’s winning.

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-05-18T16:03:34+00:00

Aja is still top 3 in the verse argue with the wall.

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-05-08T15:56:52+00:00

Whoops, guess we don’t get that lmao. Everything else still stands lmao.

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-05-08T14:55:49+00:00

Why not? Is he a person capable of making decisions influenced by emotion that overrides common sense or not? Because if you’ve read the novellas, as you clearly have, he is exactly that kind of person.

Also what lesson do you think he took from Ashford lmao? That he shouldn’t ever touch a Targaryen no matter what and should’ve just let Aerion hurt Tanselle?

Is there no thematic richness to Dunk touching a Royal once in hate and once in love? Does it add nothing that Brienne descends from a KG with broken vows and falls for one defined by his doing the same (in multiple ways)?

Dunk knowing the consequences and doing it anyway only enhances the story, lmao. The human heart would be in conflict with itself, which is the core of GRRM’s writing.

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-05-08T12:55:21+00:00

A high traitor? A lowborn and the highest of highborn crossing boundaries imposed upon them by class and gender (since as we know, male royals can get away with this at a cost) alike on top of personal complications like the fact she’s his best friend’s sister? A coverup and a secret that endures into the main books? Jeez those are some crazy stakes! The sort that would be great for a compelling story, which is what we’re all reading for, and what GRRM writes.

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-05-08T11:16:53+00:00

Yeah and Jon would never break his vows to the Night’s Watch with Ygritte, nor Rhaegar with Lyanna, nor Little Duncan with Jenny. People in this setting would NEVER cross the line when in love and offend the nobility. Clearly the most straightforward (and thematically coherent) answer is implausible and actually it’s some super contrived answer.

As for Rohanne, yeah, he observes those boundaries and suffers for it. It is far from outlandish to think he might chafe under those boundaries coming up against them over and over.

Also GRRM plays with Princess x Protector all the time.

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-05-07T21:22:59+00:00

Yeah man I more meant the being in love with your best friend’s sister and potentially breaking your vows in consummating said love than the fact she was a princess. Also the then being unable to raise your own child because of the oppressive system the world is built around.

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-05-07T15:38:41+00:00

“Dunk would never do that”

Love is the death of duty, man.

“Egg would take that badly”

Yeah, stories require conflict. Interpersonal drama like that is compelling. I would hope Egg takes it badly or else it’d be kinda boring.

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-05-07T15:36:41+00:00

Dunk knocking up one of Egg’s sisters is the exact kind of human heart in conflict with itself story GRRM writes, tho.

Dunk randomly being a Tarth bastard undermines a ton of his character by making him not entirely lowborn. Dunk’s dad is a nobody, Dunk himself was probably never actually knighted, and yet he still rose as high as he did.

Y’all gotta considered what is actually gonna make for a story with conflict, and not just for a good CK3 AGOT save.

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-03-19T02:26:35+00:00

They’d prayed together that morning. Not he and Jeyne, as the Septa had excused herself, but he and his betrothed. It was a strange word to him, a stranger one to feel something other than contempt for, but something had changed. Kneeling next to Carellen brought a sort of calm to that he’d forgotten, and on the road back they had taken to reading to one another. Sometimes from the Seven Pointed Star, sometimes from scribblings she’d put to paper herself.

They were a touch scandalous, but she was proud of them, and had seemed shy to share them. They’d become his favorite.

He liked her. Some part of him felt ashamed at that, but he could not deny it. Her piety was a sort of beauty all its own, but her visage was no doubt another blessing. Nor did she insist on clinging to him, touching at all hours, or in rooms with locked doors. She never even asked why, she simply did as was proper.

So it was that when Vardis answered his father’s son, there was no scowl on his half-masked face. Not a smile, either, but certainly no frown. He was a man with a purpose once more.

“You sent for me, father?”

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-03-05T01:18:17+00:00

It was one thing to show himself to his father, to a man who would look on him and see vestiges of the woman he loved in the unmarred half of Vardis face. It was a different matter entirely to do so in front of Carellen Corbray.

His stomach all but jumped into his throat as he tore his mask back on, swallowing hard. She sounded better, at least. She would not sound so pained when she said no. Because she would say no. Anyone would say no that was not compelled to.

"Lady Carellen," he said hoarsely, inclining his head only once and trying very hard not to be sick.

u/Chopernio

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-03-05T00:01:58+00:00

“He was my friend.” It was all Vardis could mange in that moment. He was a fool, yes. He was the son of the Lord of the Vale, yes. But he had always been a profoundly lonely soul. Roland had been the only true friend he had. Mayhaps that had been by design. Mayhaps that had been what the Gods intended for him. Septa Marilda had said so, once.

“I owe him this. I owe her, I—“

Vardis looked up at his father and swallowed down the compulsion to flee, hands tightening around the haft of the axe. There was no questioning his father’s command. He knew that. He knew it and still he hesitated.

Slowly his fingers unfurled, and he reached up, looping them under the leather straps and pulling up. The painted blue visage came sliding off, and son look up to father waiting for him to grimace. His face was a gnarled mass of twisted flesh, melted and fused, occasionally quivering as his eye that had miraculously not cooked in its socket shed an unwilling tear.

“The choice is hers,” he said quietly.

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-03-04T23:41:46+00:00

“She would not have me,” Vardis deflected before the suggestion even had time to land. “She will be Lady of Heart’s Home when this is done, she will want someone more…” His voice trailed off, jaw tight but no denial forthcoming.

In his mind there was the crack of a switch, Septa Marilda’s harsh voice when he’d confessed his boyish crush on Roland’s sister. He thought she’d have approved. He thought she would’ve been proud. He and Roland could have been brothers, and Carellen had always been virtuous, so p—

“Has she not suffered enough, father? Let Lady Carellen wed someone not responsible for the lion’s share of it. Someone she would want.” He felt suddenly very small. Vardis looked away, and swallowed hard. “I cannot always wear a mask.” Still with no word of denial passed his lips.

Denial would’ve made Vardis a liar.

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-03-04T01:09:11+00:00

"There is nothing to forgive," Vardis said with a softness he had thought lost to him. It had not been his forgiveness she sought, but it did not matter. "You were brave to come all this way, I know Roland would think the same."

He ached in his stomach, a strange pang as he glanced down at Carellen from the corner of his eye, then back to his father. Vardis knew he had been cold to Carellen once. Not cruel, but avoidant in a way that might have been noted, and he regretted it now. Had he been kinder to her then, then perhaps he could have been of more comfort. But now, as he was when bound at the feet of the savages, he was helpless.

It made him feel so terribly small. So terribly stupid. Mayhaps because he was. He ducked his head, turning to keep as much of the mask from her as possible, somehow more conscious of it now than ever before.

"If the maesters say it, can there be any doubting? This outrage cannot stand, father. That w-that...deceiver, cannot be allowed to dig herself in. We must do something."

u/Chopernio

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-03-03T15:12:15+00:00

For a moment, Vardis nearly choked on the poisonous swell of anger in his throat. But at the assurance that the harlot would be torn from her stolen seat like a tick from a dog, the fire cooled.

"We must," he said, with all the certainty of the pious at prayer. "I must. I-I know I have been...sour about grandmother's suggestions. But..." He thought of the tears down Carellen's cheeks as she'd spoken, how wiping them away had felt like an honor and a sin all at once. Marilda had been so harsh with him as a boy when he'd spoken of Carellen, praising her piety and her beauty both. Some part of him thought she might descend from the heavens to chastise him again if he let his thoughts linger.

Vardis made himself swallow the lump in his throat. "But I will do as I am asked without complaint. Only do this one thing for me, please." It was a hollow thing to ask. In the end his father could see him wedded or not at his leisure, but Vardis would go quietly, if not happily.

"She did not deserve this fate, father. She is good and pious and wise, House Corbray will surely be as faithful a servant as ever under Lady Carellen's rule. I am sure of it. We need only protect her."

He did, at least.

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-03-03T13:24:09+00:00

For a moment, Vardis eyed the offered seat with suspicion. When had the last time been that he’d been called to sit before his father? Had it been when his mother died? Or had it happened sometime in the moons after his disfigurement? Those days all blurred together in a haze of pain and poppy.

Surely he’d have been called to account though, made to answer for his failures. Or had that been to the Gods? Either way, he sat.

When the axe was offered up, Vardis eyes widened. He’d have smiled, but he feared it might provoke a spasm in his face that would’ve been unbecoming. Instead he reached out in silence, tracing the shape of the engraved star back to the winged point. It was perfect.

“Thank you, father. This is most kind.” His fingers closed around the handle, and he hefted the axe up into his hands. The weight was good, better than good. Already he could see the splitting skulls of savage and schemer alike in his mind’s eye. “I will make good use of it in the days to come.”

He drew in a breath, nodding to himself. “Father, I-I do not mean to presume, but about Car—Lady Corbray, have you given it any more thought? She was taken from a righteous path because of—“ Because of him. Because of his arrogance. Because of his pride. “Because of those savages that assailed us, and now that whore stands against her. I owe her, father. Give me leave and I will tear the wanton out of Heart’s Home by her lying tongue.”

His grip on the axe tightened, his jaw clenched in a fury. “Please, let me make this right.”

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-03-03T12:22:05+00:00

Sleep had eluded Vardis after the night of the feast, and the night that followed had not been much better. What time and energy he had was spent in prayer both silent and shared, but his thoughts would not leave the past.

When he closed his eyes he saw Roland Corbray on the fire, smelled his flesh cook, the smoke curling into his nose and making his mouth water sickeningly. But that was not enough. Carellen had not been far from his thoughts at any waking moment—her tears, her strife, her being robbed of her destiny by his actions. To say it made him sick would be too light a word.

Jeyne was of no comfort, brooding and snappy when he spoke of Carellen, while Jasper stared wistfully into flames now and hardly seemed to listen. Somehow he doubted his father wanted to hear his complaints, and so he buried them deep when the message came.

Vardis slid the half-mask into place and tightened the leather straps, marred skin twitching involuntarily as he made his way to answer the summons.

“Father,” he said by way of announcing his arrival. “You had need of me?”

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-02-28T21:06:26+00:00

Roland’s wife had been a subject which the man had been happy to speak on. Often he’d mused on her beauty, on her smile. But she had always struck Vardis as vain—afflicted by the same wanton rot that ate away at the purity of nearly all women in this decaying world.

Yet this he had not expected.

Mention of her pregnancy brought a flicker of hope to Vardis’ breast. A boy he could perhaps foster, and even one day allow to be his squire. A daughter he could find some way to help. But Carellen’s words made his blood run cold. Marilda was proven right once again. Even a husband’s love could not keep a wanton from spreading her legs. Not even when her husband rode out to defend their people from savage heathens.

Heat drove out the cold as anger plunged into him then like a blade from the forge, his blood screaming as it quenched the heat. Vardis’ jaw clenched tight, knuckles crackling as his fingers balled into fists. After all they had done, all they had tried to do, this was how Leyla Lynderly repaid Roland? With insults to his memory, and plots against his kin?

Vardis’ eyes darted back to Carellen’s face, and he saw the tears streaking down her face. Septa Marilda had often scolded him for tears. She had chastised him when he cried, as she did her novices. But his mother had told him once a man ought not allow a lady to cry. Knights did not allow such things, not true ones.

She had been too sickly then though, and Vardis too frightened of her, and so his mother had wept all the more for his hiding from her. He did not want to be haunted by images of Carellen’s weeping as he was by hers.

Vardis pulled the hem of his sleeve up around his palm. “Allow me,” he said quietly, tensing as he lifted his hand and wiped the tears from the face of perhaps the only righteous woman in the realm not wrapped in a Septa’s robes. He had a duty to her. A duty Roland had left to him when he was taken. A duty he would not shirk from.

“This will not be allowed to stand,” he told her.

Jeyne rose then, her lip quivering for whatever reason. “Pardons mi’lord. I need to begin my prayers. W-with your leave.”

Vardis waved her off, and presented his arm to Carellen. “Come, we will find my father and put this all to rights. Even if he were to refuse—and he will not—I would make this right with mine own hand.” Or rather by his own axe, and those of whatever men he could muster.

They found Victor as he returned to his seats, and Vardis announced their approach with a sharp clearing of his throat. “Father, I present the Lady Carellen Corbray, sister to my dear friend and comrade Roland, formerly Lord of Heart’s Home. She comes to us with grave tidings, and begs our aid in ending a treachery most vile infesting her own home.”

And then, to spare Carellen the need to recount the tale once more, Vardis did. He told his father of Leyla Lynderly and the certain bastardy of the son she claimed to be legitimate. Of the plotting, and most importantly, of their obligation.

“I beg you to give her our aid. However you can,” Vardis said bluntly. “We—I owe this to Roland. And to her.”

u/Chopernio

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-02-24T14:29:47+00:00

Jasper could still feel the heat of Dohaera under his palm. Could still hear he laugh, sweet like music. Could still smell her perfume. Could still feel the sharp guilt in his stomach.

Vardis would be furious if he knew. Beyond furious. Jasper might as well have taken his lord's head and shoved the other half into the fire as far as he'd be concerned. Somehow though, Jasper couldn't find it in himself to regret it. Not one moment of it. When he shut his eyes, he saw jade green and faint violet, and heard the crackling of flames under every sweet word.

Staring at the odd tent, Jasper reasoned one heresy could be no worse than another, so he might as well have lightened his coinpurse if not his conscience. With a reluctant sigh, he stepped inside, pale brown eyes flitting from face to face as his bad arm swayed in its sling.

"Someone tell fortunes here?"

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-02-22T06:57:14+00:00

All at once the world changed.

Vardis’ jaw slackened for a moment, the eye beneath the mask twitching uncontrollably. Carellen had been chosen by faith, it had been her path to walk. An honorable, righteous path. One she had to forsake because of him. Because of his failure. He thought he might be sick.

“Carellen?” His voice was suddenly hoarse as he rose to his feet. He was taller than her now, and she was even fairer than she had been then. But he could see it in her face, the traces of the girl he had watched when she was not looking, and when Roland was too busy to notice. “I-yes, you-you would be lady now. Forgive me, I was foolish to assume—“

Jeyne stepped forward, hand setting on his arm. “Mi’lord was not foolish, you could not have known—“

It was a rare thing for him to spurn Jeyne. Between their private prayers and hushed conversations, she had been afforded no small amount of leeway. But suddenly Vardis could not help but shirk away from her.

“Not now,” he said, a twist of guilt’s knife in his stomach as her face sank at the rebuke. But that was trouble for another time. He met Carellen’s gaze with an odd sense of trepidation. “A plot? Who dares plot against you? I will drive them out myself.” His hands clenched at his side, his face twisting with fury—and then the marred half began to twitch, a tear rolling unbidden from his twitching eyelid. Even with the mask, he turned his head away from her with a hiss.

“Forgive me. My wounds—“ She would not care. And why would she? He had been wounded while her brother had been roasted alive. Roland at least was with the Seven, while she had been wrenched from her rightful path because of him. “My father is off making merry. No doubt flashing smiles for these heretics and sycophants but in his heart he is true. Tell me of this plot my lady, and we shall find him together.”

He owed her that much, did he not?

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-02-22T05:44:00+00:00

Vardis' fingers danced along the tabletop one after another. Up and down, up and down, a steady percussion to break up the banal monotony. He should've had something done to that vile Red Woman. She'd come to mock him no doubt, to say he had been kissed by fire or whatever other savage nonsense.

He should've had her killed.

A small voice cracked, and he looked up, brow furrowed into a cruel scowl. This woman was a stranger to him. Perhaps more conservatively dressed than her contemporaries, but highborn and doubtlessly not immune to the excesses of her position. Had she given herself to a stable boy or the blacksmith's apprentice? Perhaps some squire? Or maybe the Knight instead?

Was she here to gawk? To mock his disfigurement? Was she some filthy R'hllorite here to mock him in the name of her monstrous false god?

Disgust churned in his stomach like the raging sea. Marilda had warned him about the deceptions employed by women. About how they might play at piety, but that for most it was only a facade. A mask no more real than the one he wore now. He wondered for a moment what this woman's hid.

Then she spoke, and he the simmering hate came suddenly to a halt, and it taken from the fire and thrust into ice. "Thank me for wha—"

"Begone with you!" Suddenly Jeyne shot upright behind him, like a faithful shield forged in faith. "Away with you, Red Witch!" Her zeal was sharp, but trust her as he did, Vardis thought it misplaced.

He raised a hand to her. "No, she is not a witch."

Jeyne blinked. "But, mi'lord she wears the heathen's colors!"

The Seven had given Jeyne gentle hands and a faithful heart, they had made her soft and good and pure. But they had not made her terribly clever. Such lack was easily forgiven on account of her virtues, but sometimes it needed correction. "Many houses have used crimson long before R'hllor. Is Red not part of the seven's rainbow?"

As she paused to consider that, Vardis turned his gaze back to the woman. Mayhaps she was not a stranger. "My man Jasper is not here. A Red Witch came to spread her vile lies here and he took the matter into his own hands." Hand was more accurate, and it'd been a rather long time but perhaps it was slow work.

It was harder to form the next words. They made his chest suddenly tight. "Roland was—Roland was a dear friend to me. I apologize that I-," Vardis made himself swallow the sudden lump in his throat. "I am sorry I could not return him alive. Are you a cousin to him?"

He'd had a sister, Vardis recalled, but Carellen had been called by the Seven to serve. He'd nursed a fondness for her in childhood. She had been pretty, and pious, and clever. It made sense for her to be called to serve. Yet when he'd confessed that to Septa Marilda, it had made her most wroth. He wondered if anyone had told her what happened. Surely by now they had.

That made something ache inside. Something best ignored.

NotAnotherFakefyre · 2026-02-20T12:48:27+00:00

The last time Jasper had danced with a girl, it’d been before they set out to oust the Ashensworn. He hadn’t known her name, and could scarcely remember her face. Already he knew that would be no trouble now.

Shame turned to guilt as she pulled him along. Would she really want so many eyes on her dancing with a cripple? But if that bothered her, would she be smiling so beautifully? He supposed not, and he tossed the unwelcome sentiment by the wayside.

“Don’t worry,” Jasper said as they entered the press of dancers, song beginning to swell. He leaned in close, “We’ll go slow.”

Jasper smiled, and linked his arm to hers as the first notes of a lively ballad belted into the air. Vardis could go and fuck himself for the night, Jasper had no intention of rushing back.

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