Fiery Religion Throughout Martin’s Work

CUlG0w_WEAAdY8Y
Stannis contemplates his “Lightbringer”. Artist: Magali Villeneuve

“. . . a horror.” Davos retreated from her. “I want no part of you, my lady. Or your god. May the Seven protect me.”

Melisandre sighed. “They did not protect Guncer Sunglass. He prayed thrice each day, and bore seven seven-pointed stars upon his shield, but when R’hllor reached out his hand his prayers turned to screams, and he burned. Why cling to these false gods?”

“I have worshiped them all my life.”

A Storm of Swords – Davos III


Where have you landed?

This page is a work in progress page and is going to be a little different than the other pages. I want to both show the reader on a larger scale the repeated dialogue and themes George RR Martin uses when establishing his fire religions, as well as have a “base” page to link to when referencing these fiery religions elsewhere. And by fiery, I don’t mean strictly animally dragons per se, but sometimes a dragon is involved. I welcome comments of the book quote variety that helps build on this growing list (I have several that will be added along the way as time permits).

Additionally, I am still deciding which is the better format to present all of this information? At the moment I have decided on one theme per section, each section including book quotes from many different stories. I will include as many book quotes as needed, but there are entirely too many to post here and not have this page become a weighted down behemoth. This is a huge undertaking and I welcome comments that add book quotes to the lists here.

Thematic Sections include:

  1. Disembodied hands.
  2. Scents associated with spices, including cinnamon.
  3. Fiery, bloody, sharp hands that try to kill the protagonist. This sharpness can come from a blade, needle/syringes, claws, fire, anything that emits pain/death to the victim. Fire and blood are a majorly associated theme not only within A Song of Ice and Fire, but many of GRRM’s other stories as well.
  4. Shadows, great winged beasts or banshees.
  5. Overly zealous. This includes not only the priest/ess, but the masses of people flocking to the “fire god” whose name varies based on geographic/cultural location.
  6. Hunger-Consumption. One of the most important and oft repeated is the consumption of hearts, trees, heart trees, water-old gods types by the (usually) black and red fire types.
    • Note: You will also notice that fire people, or the priest/ess or converts, are always associated with eating spiced meat sticks. We see this in Nightflyers, A Song for Lya, and a few others.
  7. Visions- there is always some sort of a vision screen and the images change and ideas are manipulated. Sometimes the visions are tv view screens (Unsound Variations), sometimes they are entire viewing walls (Bitterblooms, Lonely Songs of Laren Dorr), sometimes the visions are in the fires themselves.
  8. We don’t know what this one is just yet 😉

The stories being covered are listed here, and will be linked to when that respective page is up:

img_8672


Disembodied hands

When the fiery person can’t smack their own victim, sometimes the fiery god flies in to help. George has been using the fiery god hands for a while now in his literary career. Even small details added within his career as a television show writer.

  • The Road Less Traveled

As a shadow falls across her. She does not stir, not even when a man’s hand moves in from off camera, grasps the corner of her blanket, and pulls it back with ominous slowness.

FADE OUT

In Nightflyers we get a scene with many of the usual elements listed above. Here we see that Alys Northwind had an outside influence (the mad dragon-like mothership) that made her body cut itself. Nobody else feels the ship lurch, resulting in Alys being mocked. All in all, a situation not too unlike the situation with Brienne detailed below in A Clash of Kings – Catelyn IV.

  • Nightflyers

During the sixth week, Alys Northwind cut herself badly while preparing a snack. She was standing in the kitchen, slicing a spiced meatstick with a long knife, when suddenly she screamed.

Dannel and Lindran rushed to her, and found her staring down in horror at the chopping block in front of her. The knife had taken off the first joint of the indexfinger on her left hand, and the blood was spreading in ragged spurts. “The ship lurched,” Alys said numbly, staring up at Dannel. “Didn’t you feel it jerk? It pushed the knife to the side.”

“Get something to stop the bleeding,” Lindran said. Dannel looked around in panic. “Oh, I’ll do it myself,” Lindran finally said, and she did.

The psipsych, Agatha Marij-Black, gave Northwind a tranquilizer, then looked at the two linguists. “Did you see it happen?”

“She did it herself, with the knife,” Dannel said.

From somewhere down the corridor, there came the sound of wild, hysterical laughter. (note:the mad dragon-like mothership is laughing)

Here in the werewolf story The Skin Trade, we read about Randi wade and her entering a temple of sorts. She is going to meet a detective named Rogoff (an oft used name variant in Martinworld). Rogoff ends up being the side of fire in this story, while Randi Wade is most definitely the side of ice.

  • The Skin Trade (1988)

The automat was almost empty. Her heels made hollow clicks on the old linoleum as she walked back to her booth and sat down. Her coffee had gone cold. She looked idly out the window. The digital clock on the State National Bank said 8:13. Randi decided to give him ten more minutes. The red vinyl of the booth was old and cracking, but she felt strangely comfortable here, sipping her cold coffee and staring off at the Iron Spire across the Square. The automat had been her favorite restaurant when she was a little girl. Every year on her birthday she would demand a movie at the Castle and dinner at the automat, and every year her father would laugh and oblige. She loved to put the nickels in the coin slots and make the windows pop open, and fill her father’s cup out of the old brass coffee machine with all its knobs and levers.

Sometimes you could see disembodied hands through the glass, sticking a sandwich or a piece of pie into one of the slots, like something from an old horror movie. You never saw any people working at the automat, just hands; the hands of people who hadn’t paid their bills, her father once told her, teasing. That gave her the shivers, but somehow made her annual visits even more delicious, in a creepy kind of way. The truth, when she learned it, was much less interesting. Of course, that was true of most everything in life.

Here in ASOIAF, the disembodied hand is much more actively sinister. Among many examples to be added, we first see it kill Renly. This hand is the shadowbaby birthed by Melisandre using Stannis’ “seed”. Melisandre is literally sucking the life force from Stannis in order to work her shadowbinding magic to create the shadow assassin, or “shadowbaby” as it is known in the fandom.

  • A Clash of Kings – Catelyn IV– just after the shadowbaby kills green-stag-tree man Renly.

    Renly laughed. “Tell me, my lady, do direwolves vote on who should lead the pack?” Brienne brought the king’s gauntlets and greathelm, crowned with golden antlers that would add a foot and a half to his height. “The time for talk is done. Now we see who is stronger.” Renly pulled a lobstered green-and-gold gauntlet over his left hand, while Brienne knelt to buckle on his belt, heavy with the weight of longsword and dagger.

    “I beg you in the name of the Mother,” Catelyn began when a sudden gust of wind flung open the door of the tent. She thought she glimpsed movement, but when she turned her head, it was only the king’s shadow shifting against the silken walls. She heard Renly begin a jest, his shadow moving, lifting its sword, black on green, candles guttering, shivering, something was queer, wrong, and then she saw Renly’s sword still in its scabbard, sheathed still, but the shadowsword . . .

    “Cold,” said Renly in a small puzzled voice, a heartbeat before the steel of his gorget parted like cheesecloth beneath the shadow of a blade that was not there. He had time to make a small thick gasp before the blood came gushing out of his throat.

    Brienne looked up from her king’s body. The rainbow cloak that hung from her shoulders had turned red where the king’s blood had soaked into the cloth. “I . . . I . . .”

    “You’ll die for this.” Ser Emmon snatched up a long-handled battle-axe from the weapons piled near the door. “You’ll pay for the king’s life with your own!”

    “NO!” Catelyn Stark screamed, finding her voice at last, but it was too late, the blood madness was on them, and they rushed forward with shouts that drowned her softer words.

    Brienne moved faster than Catelyn would have believed. Her own sword was not to hand, so she snatched Renly’s from its scabbard and raised it to catch Emmon’s axe on the downswing. A spark flashed blue-white as steel met steel with a rending crash, and Brienne sprang to her feet, the body of the dead king thrust rudely aside. Ser Emmon stumbled over it as he tried to close, and Brienne’s blade sheared through the wooden haft to send his axehead spinning. Another man thrust a flaming torch at her back, but the rainbow cloak was too sodden with blood to burn. Brienne spun and cut, and torch and hand went flying. Flames crept across the carpet. The maimed man began to scream. Ser Emmon dropped the axe and fumbled for his sword. The second man-at-arms lunged, Brienne parried, and their swords danced and clanged against each other. When Emmon Cuy came wading back in, Brienne was forced to retreat, yet somehow she held them both at bay. On the ground, Renly’s head rolled sickeningly to one side, and a second mouth yawned wide, the blood coming from him now in slow pulses.


Scents, Spices, Sinnamon

We already know that Melisandre is using spicy magic when she tricks Ghost in to “liking” her. Spices are usually used in relation or close proximity to copper- braziers, links, hair, bathtubs, etc. Read about that Ghost and Melisandre incident here. But what are the other spicy encounters we should be aware (beware?) of?

  • A Game of Thrones – Daenerys X

    When she was clean, her handmaids helped her from the water. Irri and Jhiqui fanned her dry, while Doreah brushed her hair until it fell like a river of liquid silver down her back. They scented her with spiceflower and cinnamon; a touch on each wrist, behind her ears, on the tips of her milk-heavy breasts. The last dab was for her sex. Irri’s finger felt as light and cool as a lover’s kiss as it slid softly up between her lips.

  • The Skin Trade

Willie smelled the blood a block away from her apartment.

He hesitated and sniffed at the cool night air again. It was autumn, with the wind off the river and the smell of rain in the air, but the scent, that scent, was copper and spice and fire, unmistakable. He knew the smell of human blood.

A jogger bounced past, his orange sweats bright under the light of the full moon. Willie moved deeper into the shadows. What kind of fool ran at this hour of the night? Asshole, Willie thought, and the sentiment emerged in a low growl. The man looked around, startled. Willie crept back further into the foliage. After a long moment, the jogger continued up the bicycle path, moving a little faster now.

Just want to make some side notes here: Willie Flambeaux is a Jon Snow prototype. In this opening few paragraphs alone, we get several hints to the Jon-north-ice side of this story. There are clear divisions here, and in ASOIAF. We have a Gared running (fleeing) situation, Willie calling the runner as “asshole”, as Jon calls Theon an “ass” when Theon kicks Gared’s head. Then a few sentences after this excerpt we get Val “hurts to breathe” statement, a Will as a poacher scene, and Ghost as the original ICE sword. Good stuff.


Fiery, Bloody, Sharp Hands

This is another concept George has been playing with since his early literary development. In one of his first stories, he was already showing signs of developing the religion of R’hllor, including the worship of the followers, the child sacrifice, light versus dark, oily black stone or obsidian-like rock, fire entities and so much more. It is not a long story by any means, therefore, I did transcribe and note this entire story if you want to take a look here, but that is up to you.

  • Only Kids are Afraid of the Dark

A whimper broke the silence. Chained helplessly to the marble wall, a hideous shape twisted in vain against its bonds. The entity was displeased. Raising one hand, it unleashed a bolt of black power toward the straining horror on the wall.

A shriek of agony cut the endless night, and the bonds went limp. The chained demon was gone. No sound disturbed the solitude of the tower or its grim occupant. The entity rested on a great batlike throne carved from some glowing black rock. It stared across the room and out the window, at the half-seen somethings churning through the dark clouds.

At last the being cried aloud, and its shout echoed and re-echoed down the miles and miles of the sinister tower. Even in the black pit of the dungeons far below it was heard, and the demons imprisoned there shuddered in expectation of even greater agony, for the cry was the epitome of rage.

A bolt of black power shot from an upraised fist into the night. Something screamed outside, and an unseen shape fell writhing from the skies. The entity snarled.

“Feeble sport…

And then in his short story The Needle Men, again we have “fiery” hands this time in the form of poison needles. I was able to fully transcribe and note this short story if you want to take a look. It is not required to understand this concept discussed here, but it gives immense support.

  • The Needle Men

That was when the door opened. They were standing there, all of them, Kris and her roommates, smiling. Kris had the needle. “You never asked me my major, Jerry,” she said. “I’m in med school, second year. You’d be amazed at how expensive it is.” She shrugged and came towards him.

Catelyn, who is married to a northern icy Stark, still maintains her fiery relations. Not only is she a kissed by fire redhead, but she seems to always find herself in fire and blood type of situation; killing of Renly, killing of Robb, the attack on Bran… finally coming to her first death in a gruesome fire and blood manner, a combination ritual not too unlike Daenerys giving her dead stone dragon eggs life. Fire wights.

  • A Storm of Swords – Catelyn VII

Finally someone took the knife away from her. The tears burned like vinegar as they ran down her cheeks. Ten fierce ravens were raking her face with sharp talons and tearing off strips of flesh, leaving deep furrows that ran red with blood. She could taste it on her lips.

It hurts so much, she thought. Our children, Ned, all our sweet babes. Rickon, Bran, Arya, Sansa, Robb . . . Robb . . . please, Ned, please, make it stop, make it stop hurting . . . The white tears and the red ones ran together until her face was torn and tattered, the face that Ned had loved. Catelyn Stark raised her hands and watched the blood run down her long fingers, over her wrists, beneath the sleeves of her gown. Slow red worms crawled along her arms and under her clothes. It tickles. That made her laugh until she screamed. “Mad,” someone said, “she’s lost her wits,” and someone else said, “Make an end,” and a hand grabbed her scalp just as she’d done with Jinglebell, and she thought, No, don’t, don’t cut my hair, Ned loves my hair. Then the steel was at her throat, and its bite was red and cold.

  • A Feast for Crows – Brienne VIII

    Her face, Brienne thought. Her face was so strong and handsome, her skin so smooth and soft. “Lady Catelyn?” Tears filled her eyes. “They said . . . they said that you were dead.”

    “She is,” said Thoros of Myr. “The Freys slashed her throat from ear to ear. When we found her by the river she was three days dead. Harwin begged me to give her the kiss of life, but it had been too long. I would not do it, so Lord Beric put his lips to hers instead, and the flame of life passed from him to her. And . . . she rose. May the Lord of Light protect us. She rose.”

 


Shadows, great winged beasts or banshees

 


Overly Zealous

One thing is for sure, in many a George RR Martin story he has the characters make rather similar statements as is repeated in Fevre Dream:

  • … they must be trustworthy, since I will give all management over into his hands. He must have courage. I do not want a weakling, or a superstitious man, or one who is overly religious. Are you a religious man, Captain?” “No,” said Marsh. “Never cared for bible-thumpers, nor them for me.”
  • When the Fevre Dream steams up the bayou, I want her manned only by our best and most reliable, the bare minimum needed to run her. No religious fanatics, no one who is easily frightened, no one prone to rashness.” “Hairy Mike and I will do the pickin’,” Marsh said.

It is not that GRRM is against anyone keeping a faith or a religious view, even though he is rather neutral himself. No, it is that when it goes to extremism then it becomes an issue. Religious zealots sink ships, no matter the vessel.

Clearly George RR Martin is not against the concept of good versus evil, as many times as he says he writes grey characters- from the whitest grey to the darkest grey, those are his extremes because they do exist.

  • And Seven Times Never Kill Man

Do you believe in evil?” Arik neKrol asked Jannis Ryther as they looked down on the City of the Steel Angels from the crest of a nearby hill. Anger was written across every line of his flat yellow-brown face, as he squatted among the broken shards of what once had been a Jaenshi worship pyramid.
“Evil?” Ryther murmured in a distracted way. Her eyes never left the redstone walls below, where the dark bodies of the children were outlined starkly. The sun was going down, the fat red globe that the Steel Angels called the Heart of Bakkalon, and the valley beneath them seemed to swim in bloody mists.
Evil,” neKrol repeated. The trader was a short, pudgy man, his features decidedly mongoloid except for the flame-red hair that fell nearly to his waist. “It is a religious concept, and I am not a religious man. Long ago, when I was a very child growing up on ai-Emerel, I decided that there was no good or evil, only different ways of thinking.” His small, soft hands felt around in the dust until he had a large, jagged shard that filled his fist. He stood and offered it to Ryther. “The Steel Angels have made me believe in evil again,” he said.

  • A Game of Thrones – Daenerys X

    Only death can pay for life.

    And there came a second crack, loud and sharp as thunder, and the smoke stirred and whirled around her and the pyre shifted, the logs exploding as the fire touched their secret hearts. She heard the screams of frightened horses, and the voices of the Dothraki raised in shouts of fear and terror, and Ser Jorah calling her name and cursing. No, she wanted to shout to him, no, my good knight, do not fear for me. The fire is mine. I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, don’t you see? Don’t you SEE? With a belch of flame and smoke that reached thirty feet into the sky, the pyre collapsed and came down around her. Unafraid, Dany stepped forward into the firestorm, calling to her children.

    The third crack was as loud and sharp as the breaking of the world.


Hunger-Consumption

  • A Storm of Swords – Arya VIII

“Nay,” said the dwarf. “You’re not. The black fish holds the rivers now. If it’s the mother you want, seek her at the Twins. For there’s to be a wedding.” She cackled again. “Look in your fires, pink priest, and you will see. Not now, though, not here, you’ll see nothing here. This place belongs to the old gods still . . . they linger here as I do, shrunken and feeble but not yet dead. Nor do they love the flames. For the oak recalls the acorn, the acorn dreams the oak, the stump lives in them both. And they remember when the First Men came with fire in their fists.” She drank the last of the wine in four long swallows, flung the skin aside, and pointed her stick at Lord Beric. “I’ll have my payment now. I’ll have the song you promised me.”

And so Lem woke Tom Sevenstrings beneath his furs, and brought him yawning to the fireside with his woodharp in hand. “The same song as before?” he asked.

  • A Clash of Kings – Arya IV

A column of riders moved between the burning buildings toward the holdfast. Firelight glittered off metal helms and spattered their mail and plate with orange and yellow highlights. One carried a banner on a tall lance. She thought it was red, but it was hard to tell in the night, with the fires roaring all around. Everything seemed red or black or orange.

The fire leapt from one house to another. Arya saw a tree consumed, the flames creeping across its branches until it stood against the night in robes of living orange. Everyone was awake now, manning the catwalks or struggling with the frightened animals below. She could hear Yoren shouting commands. Something bumped against her leg, and she glanced down to discover the crying girl clutching her. “Get away!” She wrenched her leg free. “What are you doing up here? Run and hide someplace, you stupid.” She shoved the girl away.

The riders reined up before the gates. “You in the holdfast!” shouted a knight in a tall helm with a spiked crest. “Open, in the name of the king!”

This makes sense that Arya, a Children of the Forest stand-in, should notice these fire consuming flames images. Additionally, fire people in GRRM’s work tend to have a connection with gates. Melisandre and Selyse will most likely burn Shireen in front of a gate,  as the Queen’s Men like Corliss Penny, like all of the in-world fiery people, are near exact recreations of GRRM’s military religious Steel Angels.

As of this writing (before the release of Winds of Winter), even Sansa is in the fiery grasp of Petyr Littlefinger Baelish while in his puppet-like control in his home on the Fingers, and then later at the Eyrie, and then Gates of the Moon. Detailed a little more in the Only Kids are Afraid of the Dark page. So, Sansa is placed by a fire-eyed finger-man at a hearth/altar and then at gates… that girl better ruuuun!


Visions- not just dreams

3882699d643935c56cf6febd71963a4b--skin-burns-hart-to-hart


Eight- Thee Whole Shalt Not Be Named (I have no title here. WIP)

ves·sel
ˈvesəl/
noun
noun: vessel; plural noun: vessels
    1. a ship or large boat.
    1. a hollow container, especially one used to hold liquid, such as a bowl or cask.
  1. a duct or canal holding or conveying blood or other fluid. Any of the tubular structures in the vascular system of a plant, serving to conduct water and mineral nutrients from the root.

Another trick Martin uses is the use of vessels as being an avatar of the character and holder of their soul. In most all cases, the character has to use this vessel to escape the hunt of the antagonist. These vessels include:

  • Aircars that look like wolves, manta rays, etc.
  • Actual boats like the Fevre Dream (that is consumed and turned black).
  • Other living bodies (human and alien alike) that are stolen in the game of mind.
  • Corpses of dead men that are used for physical labor, fighting pit entertainment, and sex work.

Fevre Dream (descriptions of the boat Fevre Dream when it is built in the beginning)

The mists gave way for them, and there she stood, high and proud, dwarfing all the other boats around her. Her cabins and rails gleamed with fresh paint pale as snow, bright even in the gray shroud of fog. Way up on her texas roof, halfway to the stars, her pilot house seemed to glitter; a glass temple, its ornate cupola decorated all around with fancy woodwork as intricate as Irish lace. Her chimneys, twin pillars that stood just forward of the texas deck, rose up a hundred feet, black and straight and haughty. Their feathered tops bloomed like two dark metal flowers. Her hull was slender and seemed to go on forever, with her stern obscured by the fog. Like all the first-class boats, she was a side-wheeler. Set amidship, the huge curved wheelhouses loomed gigantic, hinting at the vast power of the paddle wheels concealed within them. They seemed all the larger for want of the name that would soon be emblazoned across them.

[and then]

“Course, she’s not finished. Trim needs to be painted, goin’ do it up mostly in blue and silver, to go with all that silver you wanted in the saloon. And we’re still waitin’ on some of the fancy furniture and mirrors you ordered from Philadelphia, and such things. But mostly she’s done, Joshua, mostly she’s ready. Come, I’ll show you.”

[and then much later after Damon Julian (fire) takes over and consumes the Fevre Dream, renaming it Ozymandias, changing the color from white/grey/silver/blue to black and red. However, the main owner, Josh York, does not turn his cloak, so to speak, but rather he stays on with the “good” fight. Essentially, the Fevre Dream dies.]

… of men you can hire from Natchez-under-the-hill.”

Abner Marsh knew all right. Sour Billy Tipton had scared off Marsh’s crew and replaced them with a gang of cutthroats like himself. “Steamboatmen?” he asked.

The bald man nodded. “There’s more. This Tipton visited Fork-in-the-Road.” “It’s a big slave mart,” the black partner said. “He bought a mess of slaves. Paid with gold.” The bald man pulled a twenty-dollar gold piece from his pocket and set it on the table. “Like this. Bought some other stuff back in Natchez, too. Paid the same way.”

“What kind of stuff?” Marsh asked.

“Slaver’s stuff,” the black man said. “Manacles. Chains. Hammers.”

“Some paint, too,” said the other. And suddenly the truth of it burst on Abner Marsh like a shower of fireworks. “Jesus God,” he swore. “Paint! No wonder no one has seen her. Goddamn. They’re smarter than I thought, and I’m an eggsuckin’ fool not to have seen it straight off!” He slammed his big fist down on the table hard enough to make the coffee cups jump.

“We figure just what you’re thinkin’,” the bald man said. “They painted her. Changed her name.”

[and then]

“A poem,” said Abner Marsh. “It’s a goddamn poem.” “But what does it mean?” “It means,” said Marsh, closing the book, “that Joshua is feelin’ sorry and beaten. You wouldn’t understand why, though, Mister Grove. The important thing that it means is that we’re lookin’ for a steamboat name of Ozymandias.”

[and then]

Karl Framm pushed through the crowd, a brandy in his hand. “I know a story,” he said, sounding a little drunk. “ ’S true. There’s this steamboat named the Ozymandias, y’see …”

“Never heard of it,” somebody said.

Framm smiled thinly. “Y’better hope you never see it,” he said, “cause them what does is done for. She only runs by night, this boat. And she’s dark, all dark. Painted black as her stacks, every inch of her, except that inside she’s got a main cabin with a carpet the color of blood, and silver mirrors everywhere that don’t reflect nothing. Them mirrors is always empty, even though she’s got lots of folks aboard her, pale-looking folks in fine clothes. They smile a lot. Only they don’t show in the mirrors.”

Someone shivered. They had all gone silent. “Why not?” asked an engineer Marsh knew slightly.

“Cause they’re dead,” Framm said. “Ever’ damn one of ’em, dead. Only they won’t lie down. They’re sinners, and they got to ride that boat forever, that black boat with the red carpets and the empty mirrors, all up and down the river, never touching port, no sir.”

“Phantoms,” somebody said.

“Ha’nts,” added a woman, “like that Raccourci boat.”

“Hell no,” said Karl Framm. “You can pass right through a ha’nt, but not the Ozymandias. She’s real enough, and you’ll learn it quick and to your sorrow if you come on her at night. Them dead folks is hungry. They drink blood, y’know. Hot red blood. They hide in the dark and when they see the lights of another steamer, they set out after her, and if they catch’er they come swarming aboard, all those dead white faces, smiling, dressed so fine. And they sink the boat afterward, or burn her, and the next mornin’ there’s nothing to see but a couple stacks stickin’ up out of the river, or maybe a wrecked boat full of corpses. Except for the sinners. The sinners go aboard that Ozymandias, and ride on her forever.”

In short, Weirwoods/water magic = the ship Fevre Dream; Iron Throne and fire magic = the ship Ozymandias.

Martin does use this allegory in his worldbuilding backstory as well. A repaeated theme of a blue rose being overtaken by the red. In the case of the ship Fevre Dream, and then here in the story of Rose of Red Lake, it is the bloodlust that corrupts… which brings us back to the Iron Throne.


The Glass Flower

In this story, the main point of view is Cyrain of Ash and Liltih. She definitely has a god complex. I did a comparison to Daenerys on this page here if you want to take a read. Addtionally, the fiery hand going for the heart is what I speculate will happen to Bowen Marsh after the mutiny stabbing attempt with Jon, as this idea sprang from the original that the fourth hand at Jon’s life attempt was fire guided.

  • The Glass Flower

“I make my own meaning, cyborg, and life is the enemy of death, not its mother. Congratulations. You’ve won. And so have I.” I rose and reached across the table, plunged my hand through the cold black chest, and ripped the crystal heart from his breast. I held it up and it shone, brighter and brighter, its scarlet rays dancing brilliantly upon the cold dark mountains of my mind.

It is always a good idea to remember what Daenerys herself teaches the reader:

  • A Storm of Swords – Daenerys I

    Viserion’s scales were the color of fresh cream, his horns, wing bones, and spinal crest a dark gold that flashed bright as metal in the sun. Rhaegal was made of the green of summer and the bronze of fall. They soared above the ships in wide circles, higher and higher, each trying to climb above the other.

    Dragons always preferred to attack from above, Dany had learned. Should either get between the other and the sun, he would fold his wings and dive screaming, and they would tumble from the sky locked together in a tangled scaly ball, jaws snapping and tails lashing. The first time they had done it, she feared that they meant to kill each other, but it was only sport.


Thank you for taking the time to read this rather long page. As I mentioned in the beginning, there is no earthly way I can add every single quote from every single story. Hopefully I have shown you plenty here to help you make up your mind on the fiery hand issue. I welcome comments, books quotes, and likes.

Main Blog Page

Main Daenerys Page

Main Jon Page

Main Bran Page


Thanks for reading along with the jambles and jumbles of the Fattest Leech of Ice and Fire blog.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.