The Snow Keep

As they approached the castle, she recognized it as her home, both then, and now. When she left she was a steward's girl. Now she is to be the Lady of the place. Only she is not herself, and never will be again. The wind blows cold, whipping the snow around the party as they ride and she shivers, though she has been cold for so long, she does not remember what it is to be warm. When they finally arrived, she was taken quickly to a chamber where she was left alone. She'd tried to ask questions, but those to whom she spoke, acted as though they did not hear her words. She was alone, this was, in it's way, as bad as her training had been. There was no fire, only candles. She tried holding out her hands over the small flames, trying to feel the warmth, but to no avail. All she felt was the cold and fear and a strange sense of numbness. Even the tears would not come. She knelt on the window seat and looked out over the yard. Dead men hung from the trees. Men she might have kno

by M.J. Snow I've spent all the years of my life staring at two beautiful paintings of two masted topsail schooners, the fishing boats belonging to my great-grandfather, Joesph Silveira. In my own home hangs the painting of the Mary E. Silveira, named for my great-grandmother, my mother's-mother's-mother, to be precise. Sometime, when there's good light, I'll have to try to photograph my painting. This photo is similar to our schooners.  There is no painting of the Dorcas, and yet she is the schooner who's memory remains strongest in our hearts and our minds. She is the one who carried my great-grandfather out to sea, but did not bring him home again. I was cleaning the painting of the Mary E. today and for some reason she made me feel the urge to write about my great-grandfather and share the story of his last voyage.  My great-grandparents were very much in love, my great-grandmother never quite recovered from her loss. Reading the line from the n

We just want to take a moment to thank our followers, fans, and visitors. Today our site had it's 30,500th visitor. For some blogs, that may not seem like much, but when this blog was started, it was for us and our friends. We never thought to have even half of the visitors we've had to date. In honour of our milestone, we've given the site a bit of a facelift. We hope you like the new theme. Some of our visitors have been fans, some have...not. Some have been lovely! Some have... not. It may surprise you, but we're grateful for them all. We've learned more than we'd ever dreamed through this experience. Even the haters have taught us some valuable life lessons. It's been quite a ride, so far and we plan to keep writing. We continue to welcome polite comments questions and constructive criticism, so feel free to talk to us! As always, thank you so much for your visits and your support!

During the flight home on his private jet, Petyr's mind had drifted back to the mysterious property he just had inherited...Castle Harrenhal. Even the name sounded like something out of legend and the way the small town's people spoke of it's ghosts with fear in their eyes, gave the eerie place more credibility. He chuckled, sipping his bourbon on the rocks, remembering the old stories he heard as a child from his mother. Snarks and grumpkins no doubt still snatched bad little boys away into the dark crevices of Harrenhal's walls. The property was immense, but the castle was nothing more then ruins now, a true money pit for anyone foolish enough to rebuild. Yet the land itself was ripe for a real estate boom with such gorgeous countryside, and he had been interested in expanding his business overseas more. So he smiled at the good fortune, planning a future trip to take Alayne with him. His Little Bird would love to see her fairy tale books come to life w

"Brother..." Sandor replied with a coldness in his voice and a killing look in his furious eyes. The gathered crowd parted and let the Hound through and into the fighting circle.  He yanked his shirt off, tossing it aside and moved forward, taking up the challenge. "It's been awhile... You never call. Never write." Gregor smiled a taunting smirk as he peers down at his scowling brother. "Never even visit me." The eldest of the Clegane brothers enjoyed how easily he revved up his sibling's anger. It made it so easy to predict his movements. If only his stupid brother would realize that by now. "I have no need to make contact with you, asshole. Not since you went missing and came back as Ramsay's head bitch." Sandor growled back, watching Gregor's face darken at the insult. The tension in the room suddenly fired up another level and the crowd began to grow restless, eager for blood, pain and payment of flesh. There wa

Just threw together a quick edit of Gregor and Lady Melly together, thanks to an Anonymous request. Also, did you know you can follow Gregor and Melly on twitter? They promise to get their accounts more active, very soon! Check them out at @CleganeGregor and @Lady_Clegane

One of our most frequent  requests is a photo of Lady Melicent. As she's not actually a real person, that isn't easy. I've finally decided to cave and post a pic that's close to my mental image of Melly. I think that truth be told, my real mental image of her is actually a green eyed, human version of Belle, from Disney's Beauty and the Beast. I know, I know... ;) mjs

There was a chill in the air when Nella awoke. She'd slept late, after a wakeful night, and for a blissful moment, she thought she was home in her bed at Karhold. When she opened her eyes, she realized that she was alone in the huge room she'd shared with her sister at Harrenhal. A heaviness settled over her as she lay remembering the wedding the night before, remembered watching the Mountain carry her sister from the Hall of the Hundred Hearths. The bedding, she knew, would have  been brutal. Melicent thought she could learn to love her Lord Husband. Nella wondered how much he would need to hurt her before she'd see the evil he carried within him. Rising, she bathed and dressed, descending to the Hall to look for her younger sisters. Upon her arrival, she found the cavernous hall to be nearly empty. Other than the flowers, all traces of the wedding feast had been removed. She saw her father and Maester Alaric talking at one of the long tables and went to greet them. &q