#medieval terms

Disclaimer: I might edit this post a lot because I might realize some things to add.

1)

Did you know, anon, that the word “rape” in medieval society could either mean the sexual attack or just straight up taking a woman/girl away from her father/brother/husband’s control and authority? Or whenever a female laborer of a household has been taken out of her previous household, unlicensed by her lord?

Its roots come from the Latin word, “rapere” and its past participle “raptus”:

“the usual Latin word being stuprare "to defile, ravish, violate," which is related to stuprum (n.) "illicit sexual intercourse," literally "disgrace," stupere "to be stunned, stupefied" (see stupid). Latin raptus, past participle of rapere, used as a noun meant "a seizure, plundering, abduction”

Rape had the legal and cultural meaning of “property-taking”, sometimes more than when a someone forced a woman into sex. And it comes from ancient Roman culture, literature, and ideas medieval societies would be adopting into their own systems (Ovid's Fasti and Livy's History of Rome): The Rape of Lucrece. 

Of which medieval or Reniassance writers have made use to create doubt and suspicion for the state of their various female character’s chastity. Why does such matter in those stories? A woman’s chastity is linked to nation building and male-alliances. Marriages were for alliance, resources and power -- not love. Lyanna was arranged to marry Robert because of power and resources and to strengthen/solidify the alliance already set up by Ned and Robert’s friendship before.

So when we go back to A World of Ice and Fire, which says:

“Brandon Stark, the heir to Winterfell, had to be restrained from confronting Rhaegar at what he took as a slight upon his sister's honor, for Lyanna Stark had long been betrothed to Robert Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End. Eddard Stark, Brandon's younger brother and a close friend to Lord Robert, was calmer but no more pleased. As for Robert Baratheon himself, some say he laughed at the prince's gesture, claiming that Rhaegar had done no more than pay Lyanna her due...but those who knew him better say the young lord brooded on the insult, and that his heart hardened toward the Prince of Dragonstone from that day forth.” (pg. 127)

We get the sense that the Starks percieved Rhaegar taking Lyanna and even just gifting her the crown of blue roses as defiling her female chastity. It wasn’t about her and what she wanted it was about Robert’s claim over her. And it was more about Ned’s ties to Robert and why he was sent to the Eyrie to be fostered in the first place, where he befriended Robert -- to create alliances amongst various families.

By contrast, Lyanna clearly did not want, respect, nor love Robert. When we read AGoT and keep track of Lyanna and Rhaegar (not their families, but themselves), we see that Lyanna wanted Rhaegar over Robert and they formed a genuine relationship.

She expressed to Ned:

"Robert will never keep to one bed,” Lyanna had told him at Winterfell, on the night long ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lord of Storm's End. "I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale." Ned had held the babe in his arms; he could scarcely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, but he had assured her that what Robert did before their betrothal was of no matter, that he was a good man and true who would love her with all his heart. Lyanna had only smiled. "Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature.”

(A Game of Thrones; Eddard IX )

AND

"You never knew Lyanna as I did, Robert," Ned told him. "You saw her beauty, but not the iron underneath. She would have told you that you have no business in the melee."

(A Game of Thrones; Eddard VII)

AND

Robert reached for the flagon and refilled his cup. "You see what she does to me, Ned." The king seated himself, cradling his wine cup. "My loving wife. The mother of my children." The rage was gone from him now; in his eyes Ned saw something sad and scared. "I should not have hit her. That was not … that was not kingly." He stared down at his hands, as if he did not quite know what they were. “I was always strong … no one could stand before me, no one. How do you fight someone if you can’t hit them?” Confused, the king shook his head. “Rhaegar … Rhaegar won, damn him. I killed him, Ned, I drove the spike right through that black armor into his black heart, and he died at my feet. They made up songs about it. Yet somehow he still won. He has Lyanna now, and I have her.” The king drained his cup.”

(A Game of Thrones; Eddard X)

So, if Robert, a canon and confirmed serial rapist (Cersei) and sexual abuser of children (that 14 year old sex worker that even Ned was like “...bro”) by the time he was 40ish, could not see that Lyanna did not want him and only thought of how pretty she was....while Rhaegar gifted her the crown of roses for her participation and victories at the Harrenhal tourney (however politically stupid it was)...who’s the true rapist here? Would Robert have respected Lyanna’s indifference to him if they did get married? Fuck no.

So if there were any persons defining and saying Lyanna was raped, it was never her or about sexual rape but those who would have benefited more from Lyanna marrying Robert & about “stealing” virginity.

And if you wonder why I bother to introduce medieval society when this is a fictional story with European medieval-inspired and not-so-differently modeled infrastructures and ideologies.....I can’t help you.

2)

Lyanna was 16 when they left for the Tower of Joy and had Rhaegar’s child, and they met when she was 15 at the Harrenhal tourney. 

We remember that she was betrothed to Robert before she turned 16, and Robert was 19/20 at the Harrenhal tourney. 

Rhaegar was 22/23 at the tourney and 23/24 when he went with Lyanna to the Tower of Joy.

Lyanna, by real, American, modern standards, is a minor/child by the time she’s pregnant with Rhaegar’s kid, but she’s an adult by the Westerosi age of majority. And she’s past marriageable age. 

To totally ignore that noble women of both real life and Westeros actively were treated as adults and like Rhaenyra Targaryen, and participated in politics as if they were adults is to:

deny any reality of their political and psychological autonomy and ability to reason

suppose that the man she chose broke a law or principle that is then recognized as a crime

....but if you go back to how I bring up the definition of “rape” and what that means for male-alliances, then you should realize that the crime that anyone would have thought what happened was that Lyanna was not passed into Robert’s authority (and out of her father and brothers’) and Rhaegar intercepted that licensed transfer.

3)

Robert is Rhaegar’s foil -- in literary analytical terms. Rhaegar displays an sense of responsibility and emotional intelligence (if not always a traditionally political one, his politics are unique for the very fact that they are intertwined with his magical theories) that Robert simply lacks and never bothers to develop.

A foil is:

a literary device designed to illustrate or reveal information, traits, values, or motivations of one character through the comparison and contrast of another character. A literary foil character serves the purpose of drawing attention to the qualities of another character, frequently the protagonist. This is effective as a means of developing a deeper understanding of a character by emphasizing their strengths and weaknesses. In addition, a literary foil allows writers to create a counterpart for the protagonist that puts their actions and choices in context.

And you can look up Rhaegar’s characterization by clicking HERE (of what I collected). But the universal consensus (except for Robert, but fuck him) is that Rhaegae r was generally both a good and impressive person. He was loved by most and even Robert didn't dislike him until he gave Lyanna the crown and stepped on his "turf".

It is actually more in Robert’s than Rhaegar’s character to rape, or rather, the text already has its self-indulgent and violent transgressive "Prince" character in Robert.

Robert thinks Rhaegar raped Lyanna (the other meaning) because he would have (or even just had the thought of) raped her if like Rhaegar he had gotten Lyanna alone and away from her protectors. And we know that bc of how he feels like Cersei unjustly or irrationally keeps her body from him when he says she treats her vagina like it's "special", to paraphrase. To him Cersei is property; "rape" is unallowed transfer of a woman's body, not about her consent. He feels every man naturally thinks and would treat Cersei/Lyanna as he does/would have. (Meanwhile, can we say that his own friend, Ned, that he would do that to a woman?)

Rhaegar was a gloomy person and mimics the Byronic Hero trope; Lyanna was a lot more positive and vibrant, mimicking the Rebellious Princess or Spirited Young Lady tropes:

The Rebellious Princess is usually a teenager, typically brash (since it goes hand in hand with being rebellious). If she's not the hero, quite often she's the hero's love interest. This will sometimes invoke Marry for Love not only as another way for her to rebel, but to also get out of an Arranged Marriage. She usually qualifies as a Royal Who Actually Does Something.

Thus these two embody Forbidden Love, Opposites Attract, and dabble into Good, Bad Adultery.

Edit: I just realized that Rhaegar also fits into the Royal Who Actually Does Something Trope. Also, he and Lyanna are the inversed versions of their traditional gendered roles: Rhaegar becomes the musical, singing quieter lady imbued with remembrances for a time past while Lyanna actively participates in tourneys and masculinized quests/journeys like the Prince Charming/Knight in Shining Armor. Subversion of narrative and gender tropes!

I believe that Rhaegar loved and/or become enamoured with Lyanna for:

her bravery and passion

protecting those needing to protecting

her determination to stand up for what she thinks is right despite constrictions placed on her bc of youth and gender

positivity

Lyanna loved Rhaegar because:

sensed that he had much more of a sense of responsibility and the sense of grief that comes with his need to "fix" certain wrongs in their current society (thus was more...he cared more than any other person, regardless of gender, about what it means to rule apart from having power) than what she was used to or expected

that that responsibility went even beyond her

that that sense of responsibility went further than most noblemen’s while not trying to change or repress her, nor disregard her entire personality for his own sense of power or (for him, nonexistent) fantasies of her person

his passion

*EDIT* To go further, I believe that they weren't romantic/sexual until much later when Lyanna went to him, and their "forced proximity" made them know more of each other and their feelings grew enough for them to consummate it. *END OF EDIT*

And tropes =/= “trite” or cliche. You can think of them as building blocks for themes, storylines, and characterizations. We actually don't know for certain much of anything that happened right before and during the Rebellion between these two and even Rhaegar-Elia-their kids beyond the facts that:

Jon Snow is Lyanna Rhaegar's bastard son (too many clues in text to enumerate, esp about the Wall, blue roses, Bael the Bard... but also includes Ned's thoughts and his secrecy with Catelyn over Jon's mother's identity)

Lyanna CHOSE to leave with Rhaegar, he did not kidnap her (Neds memories)

war broke out FAR BEFORE Aerys' called Elia & their kids back to KL to make the Dornish more motivated to fight for him and nothing Rhaegar could do would have stopped that without also implicating himself AND Elia as traitors

Elia and Rhaegar had a "complex" relationship (GRRM'S own words); reveals that if Elia were to feel any type of way Abt her husband cheating, it's not that likely bc they romantically bonded, but that, as many fans state, she had worries for her children (even grandchildren), and the blow to her sociopolitical image similar to how Catelyn feels about Jon (for Catelyn it'd be worse bc she came to love Ned), and the possibility it would make her feel "worthless" or spited bc she was too ill to fulfill any sort of "duty" or responsibility as a wife (heirs and sexual satisfaction) AND esp Rhaegar's wife...as it's possible he told her about the prophecy & his own intentions

the war may have been triggered by Rhaegar and Lyanna, but they are not the full cause as things have been brewing for a while before they ever met AND what catapulted the realm into war was that Ned's father and brother decided to confront a crazy old man ALONE on his home turf demanding he kill his own son and summarily be killed and expose Ned to leading a war with none. We don't know what exactly prompted Lyanna to leave with Rhaegar, there are theories (Knight of the Laughing Tree and Lyanna being them is one I think could be true), but bc of that lack of information (and bc she was a very young girl with none of the sort of fuller agency as her brothers or father) I give Lyanna much more grace than I do for Brandon Stark and Ned's father, of whose thoughts were very clear through their actions.

Martin has painstakingly made sure to convey that their story and deaths are tragic not just for them and their families, but for Rhaegar’s ambition to remodel and begin to reverse the damages done in Westerosi history after having learned of the prophecy. *EDIT 1/12/25*

But as hamliet says in this post, perhaps Rhaegar's issue was that he didn't think through the the details of his plans & how it'd affect those closest to him--as he believed that if he just followed those "instructions" he believed existed for the prophecy to--and that said propecy required HIM--that everything would fall into place. Too idealistic, not practical and observant enough.

he forgets that he is himself human and all humans have weaknesses and die. ( Rhaegar had the best of intentions but the worst of the worst of implementation, in other words.

EDIT IN EDIT: The thought, I think, could be refined to Rhaegar believing that he could not truly make great change or save the material world without always keeping in mind the mystical-magical authors of that material world, that he believed that if he didn't follow that mystical prophecy, life as he knew it would summarily fall apart because the material can only be supported and exist if the mystical is sound.

I also think that he was kinda secretly exhausted by the pressure he puts on himself. That developed from the urgency of getting rid of the "corrupt king" that became is father, clean out the corruption of the royal family/court. And I think, now, that it is possible that Rhaegar believed Lyanna was the "love of his life" AND she was the "perfect" person to be at his side and fulfill the prophecy. He might have thought that because they understood each other in a way no one else ever had, that it "proved" she/their kid was the missing piece AND they could arrange all the "other" stuff later. *END OF EDIT*

4)

What defines a war prize, anon? Assuming you’ve read the post you seem to be referring to (this ONE), you should know that they are people or things that a warrior claims or is given as a reward for victory or conquest during/after a war/a battle.

Lyanna and Rhaegar form a romantic bond and they go off together before Rhaegar ever actually battles anyone or there was a war happening. Before Robert rebels and lords begin to gather weapons and troops. For one to be a war prize, a fighter must claim them as a reward for their militant feats, therefore AFTER any fighting they participated in. As I already hinted above with the Lyanna=Knight of the Laughing Tree theory, SOMETHING ELSE (not Rhaegar) was possibly threatening Lyanna (Aerys, who ordered this knight to be found), so she went to Rhaegar for protection.

It begins with him giving her the crown for Queen of Love and Beauty at the Harrenhal tourney, passing his own wife. You can look at all the posts I have tagged “lyanna and rhaegar”, or click HERE for more.

Masterlist

tw: PTSD, period-typical homophobia

Prompt 10 - a luxurious bath @thepromptfoundry

They’re all battered and bloodied when they meet their queen. She is purity incarnate and here were her knights and soldiers, coming in through the palace halls with the stench of a war hardly fought but surely won. That is the first thing Wymond talks about when she inclines her head for him to speak.

“Your Majesty,” He starts. “Our sincerest apologies for not cleaning up before—“

“No need,” She interrupts. The unease still obviously stirring within him and the others must’ve shown because she raises a brow.

Wymond tenses. So do the others and there are twitches of fingers too close to their weapons because these are people who’ve just come back from war. Coming back doesn’t mean they’ve learned to come home.

If the queen notices the tension, she doesn’t show it. She maintains that raised brow and those fingers tapping on the throne’s armrest. A few seconds. Some minutes. An hour, maybe, of how the silence lasted and the tension thickened like blood gathering on the cursed ground of a battlefield.

Then she smiles, ever so softly and says, “Good work.”

Wymond’s not the only one who has to steady themselves. He’s not the only one whose legs threaten to buckle and give under him, with the tension that’d been running whisked away by those two words. Like the others with him in this room, he chokes on the air that his body has finally allowed him to take in, pure, clean, and free of that heavy scent of death.

Wymond gets to breathe and with it comes the burn of tears he hasn’t allowed himself to nurture nor shed. Hitches of breath, sobs, and sniffles fill the room and while Wymond wants to join in, he still has a duty to fulfil.

He straightens up. He feels his tears silently pour out and streaking down his face. His vision of Queen Aldith blurs but it only takes some blinking for him for her visage to become clear again and again.

She’s smiling still at him—at all of them as if they are but her children who tried acting tough after skinning their knee. Wymond feels small but that’s alright because she’s the queen who’s letting her soldiers and knights cry before her.

“Now,” She says finally. “Report, if you please.”

Wymond sniffles and blinks away the new onslaught of tears. He salutes, goes on one knee, and follows the order.

Queen Aldith calls after him once the last of the weeping knights and soldiers are out and he’s a step away from the doorway. No one hears the command but him, the others too tired from the sudden expulsion of emotion to notice anything else than the promise of a peaceful rest.

Wymond stops and turns back. The queen’s halfway to the passageway behind the throne and there’s a look on her face he’s all too familiar with.

He stiffens under her gaze. He does not reach for his sword.

After a moment, she speaks again as if these are words she’d rather not say but is bound to set free.

“Amis wants to see you,” She says. “Best be on your way to not disappoint him. He’s been in a… state, lately.”

She does not turn away to go when silence descends on the both of them again. She keeps her gaze—that look—on him and Wymond feels like he is being sent to war again.

But this is a war he’s been fighting for as long as he could remember and one he would spend his last breath on.

Wymond straightens, returns the queen’s gaze, and says, “Gladly, your Majesty.”

When the doors close behind him, he still feels that gaze trying to penetrate his will like a dagger chipping at a mountain.

None of the others ask or look twice when he splits off from them and goes for the wing where the royal quarters are. They have all shed blood and shared loves and fears with each other. Gossip is not something any of them can afford. Well, not right now, anyway.

The way to the royal quarters is long and heavy with silence. Guards litter the hallway but they give nothing more than a salute and a nod before assuming their stoic position again. Their shiny armours glint in the sunset.

Wymond knows his armour is too caked in blood and dirt and the darkness of death to even have a chance with the light.

The clink clank of his armour accompanies him on this walk. It’s a comforting sound, reminding him he is protected in this place whose sovereign does not want him anywhere near. Not in this place where autumn’s fall has not yet shaken the will of the royal gardens to live and flourish. Not in this place of purity where his every step spreads miasma of a war they’ve prevented from ever reaching the palace doors.

Wymond walks. And walks. And walks.

He stops.

The door to Amis’ room is ajar. Light spills from the crack and Wymond hesitates for the first time since his declaration at Queen Aldith. The light’s unlike the waning colours of sunset too close to the colour of washed out blood. It’s… soft. Bright. A gentle light beckoning him to come inside, come inside, my knight and Wymond wants and he is scared.

The war is over and his fear makes him push open the door.

The room is as he remembers. There’s still the desk by the window, its width taking up the entire expanse of the wall. Papers and books opened to various pages fill up the space with nary a place for any personal effects. Those, he knows, are carefully stored in the chest at the foot of the four poster bed which he’s all too familiar with.

Except it isn’t familiar. Not when Amis isn’t there, curled up in a light sleep which the prince always is when waiting for him. Amis isn’t there at his desk either, furiously scribbling on paper of his treatises and governing proposals.

Amis—his Amis—isn’t here and Wymond…shuts down. He panics. He can’t breathe, his knees giving way under him and he’s tearing at his hair—at his face—a guttural sound coming from deep in his chest.

He can’t, he can’t, he can’t—

“Myn lykyng?” Softly callused fingers slid across his face till a pair of hands fully envelops and cups it. “Wymond?”

He opens his eyes and sees salvation incarnate. There Amis was, bending over him, his shadow a place of solace for broken men like Wymond. Strands of cropped hair—when, why had he cut it?—fell delicately on that face that graced his dreams when all he knew is blood and death and dirt. And he’s…

“Why are you unclothed?” Wymond croaks out, his throat sore from swallowing down his cries and shouts.

Amis looks amused. His hand moves to finger Wymond’s ear and only then he realises it’s hot and burning. Oh gods. He’s blushing.

“Cute,” Amis says as if unbothered by his current state. Their current state. “I forgot how cute you are, myn lykyng.”

A finger runs down and traces incoherent symbols on Wymond’s jaw and neck, nails lightly scratching the dirtied skin. Amis seems unbothered from the state of his filth and something in his chest unfurls and breathes a sigh of relief. It’s okay. He’s okay for Amis. He’s still okay for his prince.

Amis steps closer and closer till his bare body is flush against Wymond, armor to skin, purity to filth, love to love.

Amis smiles and kisses the corner of Wymond’s lips. “Welcome home, myn lykyng.”

Wymond shudders and there’s only a monent of hesitation before he wraps his arms around his prince, bloodied hands gripping tight at supple skin. He leans close, brushes his lips against Amis, and closes his eyes.

“I’m back, myne owne hertis rote.”

Amis had always been gentle. Before he left and now, he is gentle in unbuckling and taking off every piece of Wymond’s armour that seemed to have melded together with blood and dirt as adhesives. His touch seems to carry purity and cleansing with it as the gathered filth in the kinks fall apart.

Wymond feels like falling apart, too. Without his armour, his knees tremble and his hands shake. He wants nothing more than to collapse into the floor, letting the ground reclaim its child.

Amis doesn’t let him and he follows the silent order.

“Okay,” Amis says as the final piece falls. He catches Wymond’s eye and smiles. It’s childish and reminiscent of their time as children, running across fields, hand in hand. “Now you’re gonna take a bath, myn lykyng.”

It is not the first time he’s in his prince’s room but it is his first time he’s in his prince’s tub. The water’s warm as it sloshes around his calves, making him tremble all the more as he climbs in. Or, more accurately, as Amis orders him to get in.

He’s a knight who’s commanded an entire battlefield but he’s manhandled by Amis to sit his arse down in the tub. He does quite dutifully. Then he looks towards his prince as if waiting for the other to join him.

Amis smiles, childish and gentle and salvation all in one. He takes Wymond’s hands and brushes his lips against each dirtied knuckle.

“Oh, myn lykyng,” He says. “It’s time you get taken care of, don’t you think?”

Wymond opens his mouth to protest but Amis is already starting. He kneels on the cold floor, takes a sponge and sets it to his skin.

The words die in his throat. He swallows its corpse, glad to have something to do because he is not used to…this. To the gentle almost rocking motions of the sponge against his skin—his arms, his chest, his face and his legs. He’s not used to the scents Amis drops into the bath nor being able to breathe so so easily without his armour.

Wymond thinks he talks during this. About the war. About each battle they fought and lost. He talks of the dead they had to burn and how the smell that permeated their food for weeks to months.

Amis listens. He listens and bathes his knight till the water turns murky and Wymond is cleansed.