MSM GRIFFINS WRITER’S CAMP 2013
Pre-Camp Reading
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FAN FICTION Pre-Camp Reading
POPULAR CULTURE
ed: Thursday, 27 May 2004, 12:11 GMT 13:11 UK BBC NEWS
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Printable version
Rowling backs Potter fan fiction
By Darren Waters
BBC News Online entertainment staff
Harry Potter author JK Rowling has given her
blessing to fans who write their own Potter
stories online.
Thousands of fans have written their own stories
based on the world of Harry Potter, which are
published on the net.
The release of the third Potter movie is expected to
boost the already hugely-popular fan fiction
phenomenon.
The latest Potter film
comes out in the UK on
31 May
A spokesman for Rowling's literary agent said she was "flattered people wanted
to write their own stories" based on her characters.
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Websites such as FanFiction.net and SugarQuill.net carry thousands of stories
inspired by Rowling's global best-sellers.
The Potter writers have invented a wealth of new
adventures, developed new relationships and taken
the characters in directions perhaps never imagined
by Rowling herself.
'Concern'
Fans want to
explore the afterlives
of these characters
Dr Matt Hills, Cardiff
University
The spokesman for the Christopher Little literary agency said: "JK Rowling's
reaction is that she is very flattered by the fact there is such great interest in
her Harry Potter series and that people take the time to write their own
stories.
"Her concern would be to make sure that it remains
a non-commercial activity to ensure fans are not
exploited and it is not being published in the strict
sense of traditional print publishing."
We respect the
wishes of original
writers
Xing Li, FanFiction.net
He said writers had to ensure that the stories were
not obscene and were credited to the author and not to JK Rowling.
He said: "The books may be getting older, but they are still aimed at young
children.
"If young children were to stumble on Harry Potter in a an x-rated story, that
would be a problem."
Fan fiction is a genuine online phenomenon, but its roots go back decades.
'Visibility'
Dr Matt Hills, lecturer in media and culture studies at
Cardiff University and author of Fan Cultures, said
fan fiction had always been part of fan culture.
"It's something that fan cultures have always been
involved in.
"The arrival of online means it has a greater visibility.
Before the age of the internet, it was only circulated A new Potter film is
released on 31 May
between fans."
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TV programmes such as Doctor Who, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Star Trek
are among the most popular sources of fan fiction.
But recent films such as Pirates of the Caribbean and video games such as
Halo have also inspired people to write their own stories.
Dr Hills said for a lot of fans it was about being more than just a "passive
spectator".
"Fans have a great affection for their objects of fandom. They love these films
and programmes and characters and this spurs them on.
"It's a fascination with characters who are central to programmes and fans
want to explore the afterlives of these characters and explore their back
stories."
Dr Hills said fan fiction began with early science fiction but took off when fans
of Star Trek began writing their own stories.
But not all authors are as happy to have their work used as the basis for
amateur writers' own musings.
'Policy'
Xing Li, editor of FanFiction.net, said the website had received a number of
requests from authors to remove work.
He said: "It is our long standing policy of fanfiction.net to respect the wishes of
original writers and will remove or ban fan fiction categories at their request."
Authors to have contacted the website include Anne Rice, Anne McCaffrey and
Raymond Feist.
The spokesman at the literary agency stressed that copyright in the Harry
Potter series and characters remained with Rowling and trademarks with
Warner Bros.
"Hopefully the fan fiction will help people become writers in their own right," he
said.
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Fan fiction
The desire to remain immersed in a well-loved novel, film or other fantasy world is not
altogether unfamiliar to readers and viewers the world over. From the phenomenon that is
“Harry Potter” to the currently touring stage play “Wicked”, adapted from a book based on
characters from the classic “The Wizard of Oz”, to the childhood emulation and play acting of
‘Superman’, ‘Spiderman’, ‘Cinderella’ or ‘Dora the explorer.’ No the concept of immersing
oneself in a much loved story, character or plotline is not unfamiliar. What is only recently
occurring to the educational community at large is the potential value of this experience in
terms of literacy.
Fan fiction, sometimes referred to as Fan Fic is in essence, creative writing that uses as its basis
the characters, settings, histories and/or inventions of another individual and then adapts,
extends or manipulates these to create alternate or new events and storylines. These writings
may stay true to cannon, meaning the original works, or they may use only a small section of
the original premise and then manipulate or even completely change characters, events and
plot points. Within the world of fan fiction it is permissible in some circles to adopt the belief
that anything goes providing you acknowledge that the premise and character are the
intellectual property of the original author or creator.
There is still much to be learned within this field. The origin of fan fiction has been greatly
debated. Some assert its origins are traced back over several centuries to people who took to
telling unauthorized sequels of classic literary works. Others assert it stems from the fan
magazines of the yearly 1930’s and was brought further into popular culture with the great
success of science fiction programs such as ‘Star Trek’ and the subsequent explosion of fan
fiction that followed.
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VALUE OF FAN FICTION
Fan fiction allows writers to focus on their writing skills rather than inventing a new story. They
can engage with texts in different and exciting ways through role playing and discussion. They
are able to reflect on their work as well as the work of others and grow in sophistication
through this "self-reflexive critical practice about their reading, their choices and their different
forms."
Key points include:
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
Pop culture and Fan fiction can provide a rich scaffold for sparking a writer’s
imagination and developing their writing in authentic and engaging ways.
Members of the fan fiction community are able to read and edit each other's
responses
They are able to share their ideas through discussion
They are able to "engage in online dramatic role-play" , recreating such as aspects as
the lives of characters, events in the story and so on.
They are able to post and track developments in their stories.
Fan fiction frees writers to engage in "random insane stuff"
Fan fiction allows moderators and Site comment where "administrators of the
community get together to discuss any problems with members
Blend of popular culture and new technology enabling native and non-native speakers
globally to meet and collaborate online - critiquing and intervening in each other’s'
narratives.
Borrowing narrative elements from existing works responders and composers can
create new texts that challenge literary and pop culture canons.
Valuable for the development of student writers writing - as active designers and
transformers of (canonical) content student writers can manipulate texts and
integrate their own resources, knowledges, discourses, backgrounds and identities to
construct new texts that are relevant to them.
Personal perspectives - possibilities of Fan Fiction to engage student writers, develop
their literacy skills and creativity, and provide meaningful learning experiences - an
important vehicle for implementing the transference of writing skills across contexts.
Points taken from:
Thomas, A. (2007). Blurring and breaking through the boundaries of narrative, literacy
and identity in adolescent fan fiction. In Knobel, M. & Lankshear, C. (Eds.). (2007). A
New Literacies Sampler. Peter Lang: New York.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
(Redirected from Fanfiction)
Jump to: navigation, search
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
Fan fiction (alternatively referred to as fan fiction, fan fic, FF, or simply fic) is a broadly-defined
fan labor term for stories about characters or settings written by fans of the original work,
rather than by the original creator. Works of fan fiction are rarely commissioned or authorized
by the original work's owner, creator, or publisher; also, they are almost never professionally
published. Because of this, many stories often contain a disclaimer stating that the creator of
the work owns none of the characters. Fan fiction, therefore, is defined by being both related
to its subject's canonical fictional universe and simultaneously existing outside the canon of
that universe.[1] Most fan fiction writers assume that their work is read primarily by other fans,
and therefore tend to presume that their readers have knowledge of the canon universe
(created by a professional writer) in which their works are based.
Fan fiction is what literature might look like if it were reinvented from scratch after a nuclear
apocalypse by a band of brilliant pop-culture junkies trapped in a sealed bunker. They don't do
it for money. That's not what it's about. The writers write it and put it up online just for the
satisfaction. They're fans, but they're not silent, couchbound consumers of media. The culture
talks to them, and they talk back to the culture in its own language.
—Lev Grossman, TIME, July 18, 2011
Media scholar Henry Jenkins explains the correlation between transmedia storytelling and fan
fiction:[2]
The encyclopedic ambitions of transmedia texts often results in what might be seen as gaps or
excesses in the unfolding of the story: that is, they introduce potential plots which can not be
fully told or extra details which hint at more than can be revealed. Readers, thus, have a strong
incentive to continue to elaborate on these story elements, working them over through their
speculations, until they take on a life of their own. Fan fiction can be seen as an unauthorized
expansion of these media franchises into new directions which reflect the reader's desire to "fill
in the gaps" they have discovered in the commercially produced material.
Some Examples of Fan Fiction
Example 1
Let's Do Lunch http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8998768/1/Let-s-Do-Lunch
Author: PrettyArbitrary
PM
The coffee really did turn out to be worth missing death for.
Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor - Sherlock H. & J. Moriarty - Words: 447 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 02-10-13 - Status:
Complete - id: 8998768
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They stood on the brink of Nature's open maw, two shadows in the eternal whose terrible
rivalry could end in only one way.
Moriarty took a step closer, and another. Sherlock watched him stonily, ready to see this to the
end.
A little out of arm's reach, Moriarty stopped, then leaned sideways, craning to look down the
chasm at his enemy's back. He grimaced. "That's a very long drop."
"Yes."
He sucked on his teeth thoughtfully. "A man could get himself killed doing that." He raked
Sherlock with his eyes, reading him. "Of course, we'd both go, wouldn't we. Yes, I can see it.
You're planning to drag me right over with you. Oh, Sherlock, tell you haven't taken up
martyrdom."
"I've had as much of you as I can stomach," Sherlock told him impassively. "I'll end this any way
I have to."
There was a moment filled only by the roar of water, then Moriarty flung up his hands. "No, oh
no, that's it! I'm calling a do-over!" He took two paces backwards, finger jabbed accusingly at
Sherlock. "I refuse to allow a line that hackneyed be the last thing I hear. God, Sherlock, where
did all that creativity go? Where's the fire? Did that dismal little doctor of yours drain it all off
like some vampire of mundanity? No, this just won't do."
Sherlock tensed when Moriarty reached into his jacket, only to pull out his wallet and rifle
through his cash. "Now, I know this magnificent little cafe on the edge of town where we can go
threaten each other in warmth and comfort. I've just been dying to try their pastries, but you've
kept me so busy lately I've barely had time to think for myself."
Sherlock narrowed his eyes, running through the odds and his own willingness to die today if it
could be at all avoided. "And all this?" He took in the scene with an elegantly sarcastic gesture.
"Your grand revenge?"
"Lost the mood." Moriarty flicked it away with a flip of his hand. "Oh, don't look like that. Next
time we can bring the guns and the busted-up military marksmen and go for a nice, civilized
mutual murder attempt. It'll be lovely, you've always liked splatter patterns. Now come on, it's
my treat. I know you've been skint since Provence, and I idid/i want to ask you some questions
about that monograph you published on the radioactive decay of tobacco ash..."
The coffee really did turn out to be worth missing death for.
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Example 2
You and Your White Horse - http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8506334/1/You-and-Your-White-Horse
Author: a.fictional.love
PM
Sara Price knew better than to step through the door in her sister's shower and enter the world of Pride and Prejudice.
She knew better than to get in over her head. She did anyway, and now has to handle Her meddling Ladyship, a
multitude of Collins brothers, and unexpected and unwanted feelings for a certain militia man. Wickham X OC
Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Humor - Chapters: 16 - Words: 34,137 - Reviews: 15 - Favs: 15 - Follows: 8 Updated: 11-01-12 - Published: 09-07-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8506334
A a AbcAbc Abc
1. The Show er Dilemma
first multi-chapter fic - let me know what you think! And yes, I'm aware that Amanda does not have a sister in the
series. creative license.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lost in Austen or any of the characters. If I did, I wouldn't be here. I only own Sara
1. The Shower Dilemma
"Amanda!" I called, letting myself into her flat by the spare key under the fire extinguisher. I
had continuously told her to move it, because I was fairly certain that everyone in the whole
building was aware of its location. "It's been ten days. I know you said you were going to be out
of town for work, but let's face it - you hate work." I closed the door behind me. "Mum's been
going mental because every time she tries to call you, it says the number is out of service, so
you might want to get that fixed."
The flat was pretty much just as it had always been, the bright yellow foyer leading into the
kitchen. I opened her fridge, looking for one of the bottles of water she usually kept on the top
shelf. Instead, I encountered a repulsive smell that made me gag and cringe away from the
appliance. Holding my breath, I searched around and pulled out a half empty carton of milk,
almost two weeks expired and revoltingly sour.
I feared the worst - moping and ignoring personal hygiene. "I know you just broke up with
Michael, so if you're doing one of those sad and alone things where you eat chocolates all day
and watch sappy romances and wait for your bum to get big, consider me your intervention." I
tossed the carton in the garbage and continued to the living room where the big, obnoxious red
sofa sat. True, it went with the rest of the red and dark brown colours of the room, but it was a
bit bold for my taste. "I have four days off work, which I was actually saving up to use for a long
weekend somewhere nice, but I have the pleasure of spending them with you. We'll take all the
time we need."
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I stopped between the kitchen and the living room, looking down the hallway to her empty
bedroom, where the bed was neatly made. In all the time I could remember, Amanda had never
made her bed willingly. "Are you here?" I asked, my former certainty diminishing. I had
purposely come at eight in the morning on a Saturday, ruining my own slumber, to catch her
early. If she wasn't on a work trip - which she wasn't because she sat at a bloody desk all day
long - and she didn't work on Saturdays - which she didn't - she should be here.
I heard a noise, coming from the bathroom, that sounded like a muffled yell. My feet took me
down the hall, and a young woman with a pixie cut appeared in the doorway. My mouth parted
and my eyebrows knit together. This was most definitely not Amanda.
"My apologies," she said, her voice so heavily accented that even I noticed. "I was just cleaning
up."
My mouth opened and closed a few times. "And you are?" I managed to say when I found my
voice.
"I'm Elizabeth Bennet," she answered politely, making a little curtsy motion that looked
completely out of place, as it was the twenty-first century and she was wearing jeans and a tshirt.
"Right," I said, eyeing her suspiciously. "And I'm Cleopatra."
The woman suddenly adopted a confused expression, tilting her head to the side and furrowing
her eyebrows, as if she was actually considering my sarcastic comment to be true. "You do not
look like the pictures I have seen. Cleopatra is deeply tanned, and she had black hair, did she
not? Your skin is much paler, and your hair is golden. Is it simply a common name nowadays?"
A thousand sarcastic comments could have come tumbling out of my mouth had I let them, but
I stifled them instead; I didn't need her taking another one seriously, because that could go on
for hours. What I needed was to know why this delusional woman, claiming to be a fictional
character, was cleaning my sister's bathroom. "No," I said, saving the trouble. Her face cleared
and she waited for me to elaborate on my identity. "I'm Sara, Amanda's sister."
"A pleasure," she said, curtsying again. Then she added, "I can see the resemblance now."
"Yeah," I agreed, hoping we were coming to the conclusion of the pleasantries. I looked around
her into the bathroom. She followed my gaze, eyebrows raised in innocent curiosity. "Where's
my sister?"
"She's in my world."
"Your world," I repeated doubtfully, but she nodded as if I had asked if it was sunny outside.
"And that means, what, exactly?" I asked, attempting to scrape together some logic while
collecting all the totally illogical details being thrown at me.
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She turned and retreated into the bathroom, pulling the string to turn on the light.
"Oh, this is extraordinary!" she said before I had steeled my nerves to walk into the room.
When I did, there was an open door in the wall of my sister's shower. Extraordinary just so
happened to not be the first word that came to my mind. She looked to me, beaming. "I was
just going to show you its location, but it appears to have opened for you."
I blinked. "For me?" She nodded emphatically. "Are you sure it's not for you?"
Again, she nodded. "Yes, quite sure, indeed." To prove her point, she approached the door,
which then slammed itself shut. "Your sister and I switched places, you may say. She is better
suited to my world, and I to yours." She backed up towards me, and the door reopened on its
own accord. "It is most interesting," she added, "that it has opened for you as well. Do you
share your sister's affection for the novel?"
"I was never as obsessed with it as Amanda, but, yeah, I liked it," I replied, too busy
comprehending that a portal to a fictional world was in my sister's bathroom to put up my
sarcastic defences. Then they returned. "Wait. You know you're part of a book?"
"Yes, your sister explained it to me well when she returned once."
I seized this flicker of hope. "Will she come back again?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "I assume she plans on staying there."
My flicker puttered out and I mumbled, "Oh, this is going to be fun to explain to Mum."
She put a hand on my shoulder. "You seem distressed."
"Well, yes, that's because I am," I said, resisting the desire to call her Sherlock. Did fictional
characters know each other? "You see, she left and probably won't be back, but she neglected
to tell anyone."
"That's why I'm here," she said proudly, eyes bright. "I'm to tell anyone that needs to know
where she is, though I highly doubt that door will open for any of them."
I stared at the door, determined not to take a step closer. "I understand that, but I meant work.
Amanda has a job. What is she doing for money in...your world?"
Elizabeth laughed aloud, utterly amused. "Money? Your sister has no financial worries,
considering whom she married."
"Whom she what?" I demanded, losing my calmness, if it had been there in the first place.
Finally, she seemed to take my 'distress' seriously.
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"She wed, quite recently. To Mr. Darcy." I felt my jaw go slack. "They're currently on
honeymoon, I believe."
"On honeymoon?" I started by saying. I wasn't sure if I had said the words correctly; they were
too foreign and just sounded wrong. I continued my clarification that was only, I was sure, going
to further confuse me. "My sister and Mr. Darcy are on honeymoon. My sister and Mr. Darcy
are married."
She nodded like it was a well known fact. Yeah, well known to everyone but me. Why wasn't I
invited? Amidst my bewilderment and wonder if I needed psycho-evaluation, I was genuinely
hurt that I hadn't been included in my sister's wedding, even if it was in another "world". We'd
always talked about getting married, back when we liked to act out weddings with our dolls.
Elizabeth started speaking again. "That was why the door opened for her, I believe."
"You think she was meant to marry Mr. Darcy, so the universe plunked her into fantasy land?" I
couldn't help it as the sarcasm spilled into my voice. She nodded honestly anyway. "Of course it
did," I muttered under my breath, still eyeing the door.
Apparently, she hadn't heard me. "Your sister truly loves Mr. Darcy, and now he shares the
same feelings for her. I saw them together." I was happy for Amanda, really, but still ticked off
that she'd run off with a fictional character without at least giving me a phone call. I stiffened,
realizing that I should probably check myself into the nearest asylum when I woke from this
dream. "And she tried to put me and Mr. Darcy together," Elizabeth continued, "but it was just
not meant to be, despite the plot of the novel."
"You're settling here while Amanda gets Mr. Darcy?" I asked. "Is that fair?"
"Mr. Darcy and I are not suited for one another, not as he and your sister are. Besides, if the
door allowed us to trade our places, it must have been meant to be. For a long time, it refused
to let her back here. There was something she'd needed to accomplish."
Unfortunately, that was starting to make sense to me. "And why is it open for me?"
"You have business to attend to in my world," she replied simply. "I suggest you enter. Perhaps
you will find your sister." I weighed the proposal in my mind. "It leads to my house," she added.
I took a step towards the door, but at the same time said, "How can I just abandon work?"
"Your sister quit her job," Elizabeth offered.
I shook my head. "You don't understand. I'm a paramedic."
"Oh," she said, realization dawning. "That does seem very important. But you are not dressed.
Surely you do not attend your work in that."
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She gestured to my blue skinny jeans, brown, knee-high riding boots, and dark green tank top.
"No," I admitted, "this is not my uniform -"
"Then it's your day off work?"
"Yes, but-"
"Oh, Sara, you must go!"
I stepped away from her and held up my hand, meaning for her to stop talking. "Hang on." I
turned and strode out of the bathroom, down the hallway, past the living room - grabbing my
jacket that I'd tossed on the red couch - through the kitchen, into the foyer, and out the door,
closing it shut.
I leaned back against the wall for support, my eyes closed. I had never been forced to do this
before, but I pinched my arm with my index finger and thumb, my nails digging into the skin.
When I finally struck a nerve and blinked back tears, I had deep, red marks that were almost at
the point of drawing blood. I let out a breath of air.
Satisfied, I re-entered the flat and made my way to the bathroom - where Elizabeth Bennet still stood, looking at me curiously. "Are you all right?" she asked.
Now what was I supposed to do? My eyes fixed, once more, for some unexplainable reason, on
the open door. "Fine," I lied, taking a step towards it. "I just needed to grab my jacket."
She saw my intentions as I stepped into the shower. The door still hadn't closed, and she
beamed. "Oh, Sara, you will have a most wonderful time, I guarantee it!"
"Yay," I mumbled, not even half-heartedly. Once more, she was ignorant of my true meaning.
Still, I stepped from everything I knew into the world of a book I had read twice. I turned
around, wondering if this had been a good idea, when I saw the door close behind me. "No,
wait!" I whimpered as it shut. I jiggled and twisted the knob, pushing and pulling with all my
might, and only discovered that it wouldn't budge.
What did you like?
What did you dislike?
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Example 3
The Lion's Guest-http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8559384/1/The-Lion-s-Guest
Author: hlmsluvr
PM
Partly AU. Begins during the War of Five Kings. In which Lady Ailyn agrees to be Lord Tywin's 'guest' while he plots his
next move against the Starks. Lady Ailyn tries to get Lord Tywin to see her as something more than a weak woman and
Lord Tywin armors himself with criticism and cunning. I own nothing except my own characters. FYI later chapters may
have season 3 spoilers.
Rated: Fiction T - English - Fantasy/Drama - Tywin L. - Chapters: 19 - Words: 67,841 - Reviews: 82 - Favs: 29 - Follows:
45 - Updated: 02-09-13 - Published: 09-26-12 - id: 8559384
A a AbcAbc Abc
1. The Lion's Guest
"Set up camp here, Kevan. I want to be sure of Lord Silvyn's allegiances before we cross his
land," said Lord Tywin, surveying the area.
"At once, my lord," Ser Kevan replied, spurring his horse.
Lord Tywin remained in the saddle, gazing at the city of Willow Glen. Its walls were strong and
the castle looked impregnable even from this distance. Casterly Rock was several times its size
but for all its insignificance, the city of Willow Glen had not been breached for several hundred
years. He could hardly march up to its gates and demand that Lord Silvyn surrender all his men
to the Lannister cause. At the same time, a needless battle with thousands of fresh soldiers was
not something he or his men could endure. He would need to write a carefully worded letter
requesting an assurance of some kind that his men would be allowed to pass. He pulled his own
white stallion around and headed down through the growing forest of red Lannister tents.
At first light the next morning, with his brother by his side, Lord Tywin sat down to write to Lord
Silvyn.
"House Greystone has been historically neutral in past skirmishes. If he won't join us, he may at
least be persuaded not to send word to the Starks of our movements. We're having enough
trouble keeping the scouts quiet as it is," said Ser Kevan, talking aloud to himself rather than
inciting conversation.
"The man has made decent decisions in the past. It is now in his best interest to make another,"
said Lord Tywin quietly, sealing the letter with crimson wax and stamping it with his roaring lion
sigil. He stood and was about to shout for a messenger when one of his men came running into
the tent.
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"If it pleases my lord, there are two riders approaching the camp. And …er…." The man
stumbled about for the proper words.
Lord Tywin's eyes narrowed.
"Out with it," he commanded, glaring.
"Forgive me my lord. One of the riders is a woman," the man finished.
"What?" Ser Kevan looked to his brother.
Lord Tywin's frown deepened.
"We have been anticipated," he growled as he strode past the messenger, Kevan close on his
heels. He thrust the tent flap aside and blinked in the early morning light.
The newborn sun was tearing red streaks across the delicate blue sky as Lord Tywin's sharp
gaze focused on the two riders approaching his camp. One was indeed a woman; a long blue
cloak edged with silver fox fur hung about her shoulders, her brown hair, streaked with gold,
was pulled up and tucked back behind her head. She dismounted gracefully and handed the
reins of her horse over to the knight who was riding with her. From Lord Tywin's viewpoint,
they had a silent conversation and then she turned to face the camp, clasping a square of
parchment in her gloved hand. She advanced into the camp, her head held high. Her deep blue
dress was plain but she wore it as though it was an elegant gown. Many Lannister soldiers were
standing outside their tents to watch her entrance. She walked past them all as if she were
walking down the aisle at court in King's Landing. Her gaze remained fixed on Lord Tywin.
Finally, the lady reached Tywin's tent and she dropped a deep, elegant curtsey to its lord.
"My Lord Tywin, I bring greetings and a message from my father, Lord Silvyn. I am Lady Ailyn,
his eldest," she said, her voice soft yet clear.
Tywin merely frowned.
"Surely a raven would have sufficed?" he questioned, searching her face.
"My father felt the message rather too heavy for a bird," she replied with a small smile.
"So he sends a woman into my camp in his stead?" queried Tywin, derisively.
"I am here willingly my lord."
She held out the small, folded sheet of parchment to him. There was a slight hesitation on Lord
Tywin's side but he reached out and plucked the note from her hands, still searching her grey
eyes. He took a step back and drew up the tent flap, holding it aloft for her to pass through. She
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bowed her head to him and stepped inside. Lord Tywin's head remained stationary but his eyes
followed her every step. Ser Kevan recognized the predatory, calculating glint in his sibling's eye
as he followed him into the tent. Lord Tywin sat down at his desk, setting aside his own letter
and broke the blue seal of a diving hawk on the parchment. Lady Ailyn stood in front of him, her
hands clasped patiently before her, watching all of Lord Tywin's movements. Ser Kevan stood
off to Tywin's left and several other lords had crept quietly in to hear the new developments.
The lion's eyes flicked quickly over the contents of her father's letter, paused, glanced up at her
to gauge her reaction and then read the letter again. Finally, he sat back and regarded her
thoughtfully for a moment.
"You know what this letter says?" asked Lord Tywin curiously.
"I helped him write it my lord," Lady Ailyn replied.
A golden eyebrow arched upwards in surprise.
"You wished for assurances my lord, that you will not be attacked or informed upon while you
make camp in front of my father's city. I am here to honor my father's words. He will not move
against you while I am in the middle of your camp," informed Lady Ailyn, her gaze moving from
Lord Tywin to Ser Kevan.
"So long as I am your…guest, you are free to do as you wish on his lands," confirmed Lady Ailyn
trying to read Lord Tywin's face.
"Did not Lord Silvyn have a son?" hazarded Ser Kevan quietly.
"Yes, I have a brother but Mardyn is only nine. I have a little more experience negotiating," she
replied.
"You are more expendable than he is you mean," said Lord Tywin harshly.
She did not flinch at his words but nodded her assent, her face betraying nothing.
"You have my father's oath of honor that he will not attack you whilst you remained encamped
on his lands. If you, in turn, agree to allow me to send one raven to him daily and promise to
return me to him unharmed when the fighting is done then we have an agreement," she
summarized for the benefit of the other men who had not read her father's requests.
There was a long silence. Lord Tywin and Lady Ailyn locked gazes, each searching, judging,
trying to read the other's thoughts. Lady Ailyn proved the more successful.
"And if you try to use me to levy men from Willow Glen" she began, but Tywin overrode her.
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"I assume Lord Silvyn will consider the truce broken and march on me without delay," he
finished. She nodded once in confirmation.
"If he dares march against me, he must know he will never see you alive again," threatened the
Lord of Casterly Rock in a low tone.
"That is a risk we are both willing to take," she said firmly, her thin shoulders straightening
slightly.
Lord Tywin regarded her critically for a moment then glanced at his brother.
Lady Ailyn noticed and offered to step outside so that they could confer in private but Tywin
waved away her suggestion impatiently.
"My knight is willing to take your reply back to my father when you are ready my lord," she
prompted as his silence continued.
"Very well."
Lord Tywin quickly wrote a few lines and sealed it, shouting for his own messenger when he
had finished.
"If it's not too much trouble my lord, I would like to keep my horse and the leather satchel
strapped to its back if I am to stay here," she said respectfully.
The guard came running in and knelt beside Lady Ailyn facing his lord. Tywin held out the letter
and sent the man off to deliver it.
"Stable her horse with mine and bring her things here when you are done," he added, rising.
His squire moved at once to do his lord's bidding.
Tywin glanced at her, stood up and strode over to his Lannister bannermen.
"I want it known that Lady Ailyn is under my protection. If any man touches her, I will
personally remove his hands and send him to beg for mercy at Willow Glen's city gates. Is that
understood?" demanded Lord Tywin, looking down on his bannermen.
"Yes my lord," came the swift, unanimous reply.
"Good. Go spread the word around the camp," ordered their lord, dismissing them with a wave
of his hand.
"Where will my tent be?" asked Lady Ailyn after they had gone.
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Tywin turned and gave her another appraising look.
"You will not have a tent."
Lady Ailyn frowned and opened her mouth to protest but Lord Tywin held up a hand.
"You will share my tent. I will have it altered so you have a private chamber. You are not to
leave it unless you are accompanying me. Since your safety is paramount, I do not want you far
from my sight," said Lord Tywin, with an air of finality.
Ailyn closed her mouth but pursed her lips in displeasure.
"You will not speak unless spoken to. If I order you to do something, you will obey quickly and
respectfully," continued Lord Tywin.
"Yes my lord I am aware of how to be a woman," snapped Lady Ailyn disdainfully, cutting him
off.
The Lord of Lannister's green eyes darkened, his countenance turned thunderous. He advanced
on her slowly, deliberately. Ser Kevan moved to stand near Lady Ailyn, his own face
apprehensive.
To her credit, the lady did not step back but raised her chin and met his gaze. He drew up
uncomfortably close to her and spoke softly:
"And if you try my patience, you will regret it."
She controlled a shiver that threatened to crawl up her spine and nodded, dropping her eyes to
the ground. Her father had raised her on stories of the man towering over her. She knew the
ruthlessness he was capable of, hidden under the guise of honor and family. Lord Tywin
remained standing before her, his glare piercing her.
Finally, Lord Tywin's messenger broke the silence as he arrived with her satchel. He turned
away from her and she slowly let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.
"Search it for weapons," commanded Lord Tywin and his man obediently put the bag on the
ground, and with an apologetic glance at Lady Ailyn, opened it.
Lady Ailyn clenched her jaw and bit back her protests.
He rummaged around amongst her clothing and possessions and eventually pulled out a bow
case. Lord Tywin frowned and held out his hand. His squire placed it carefully in his lord's hands
and bent to his task again. Lord Tywin pulled open the leather clasp on the end and slid her bow
out several inches. His face gave nothing away but it was one of the finer bows he had seen in a
long time. The arrows were trimmed with perfectly symmetrical dark blue feathers.
18 | P a g e
"You are proficient with this?" asked Lord Tywin, turning to her.
"Better than most of your men," she replied without hesitation.
He gave her a skeptical look and said: "I will retain this while you are here."
It was not a suggestion.
After several more minutes, she was relieved of the pair of daggers her father had given her on
her eighteenth nameday. Finally, the messenger stood up and informed his lord that there was
nothing else of interest in her belongings.
"See to her horse and gather some men. I want my private chamber halved with one side for
Lady Ailyn. Furnish it and put her belongings in, it save for the weapons," said Tywin waving him
off. The squire bowed and left, hefting her bag onto his shoulder and carrying her bow and
daggers in his hands.
"Kevan, find Ser Adam. I want to know the current position of the Northmen," ordered Tywin,
turning to face his brother.
"At once, my lord," said Ser Kevan nodding.
When he had gone, Lady Ailyn met Lord Tywin's glare again.
"I am not sure I'm comfortable with these arrangements my lord," she said, trying to keep the
edge out of her voice.
"I promised your lord father I would keep you safe, not comfortable my lady," was his reply as
he sat back down.
"Why did you take my weapons?" she persisted coming to stand before him again.
"A lady should not have such things. Weapons belong in the hands of men."
She didn't like the paternal scolding in his tone.
"My hands are just as capable. Do you think I would try to use them against you? I may be a
woman but I am far from stupid Lord Tywin," she countered, her temper beginning to flare.
"That remains to be seen. Until I decide otherwise, you will retain only what I allow you to
have," said the Lord of Casterly Rock.
"Then I am entirely reliant on your mercy my lord."
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"See that you don't exhaust what little I possess, my lady. Kevan! What news?" barked Tywin,
as his brother strode back into the tent.
"They've made camp on the far side of The Neck my lord. No movement," informed Ser Kevan
with a respectful nod to Lord Tywin and Lady Ailyn.
"Good. Then we have time to plan. I want several scouts sent out to the north and west to
confirm the terrain. There will be a council meeting this evening after dinner," instructed Tywin
rising.
"My lord," said Ser Kevan, bowing in acknowledgement. He set off to find the other captains.
"Come," Lord Tywin beckoned her as he moved to leave.
For a moment, she thought he was going to offer her his arm in some absurd display of chivalry
but he merely moved past her, assuming she would follow. Reluctantly, she went out after him
and fell into step with him as he walked down an avenue between rows of tents.
"Do you intend to be here long my lord?" she asked after they had walked in silence for a time.
"I do not discuss battle plans with women as a rule," he replied curtly, glancing at her as she
hurried to keep up with him.
She met his glance and decided against any further attempts at conversation. The fact that she
breathed seemed to bother him.
They turned a corner and came into a sort of clearing. There was a good ten yard gap in the row
of tents around a large central tent. Wealth and power apparently bought what passed for
privacy in this sea of shared living space.
Two guards held a tent flap open for their lord to enter.
Lord Tywin went inside and with one last glance around, Lady Ailyn followed him in. The tent
was spacious and well furnished though they were in the middle of a war. There was another
desk and chair off to one side and a large table with several more chairs for dining. Golden
candlesticks and cups were in abundance. There were maps and papers on all available
surfaces. Straight in front of her were two more openings which she assumed were their rooms.
The fabric covering the 'doorway' to both rooms was down, the interiors hidden from view.
Lady Ailyn and Lord Tywin stepped to the side as some more items were brought in. She
watched a large candelabra and a box of candles moved into what she assumed would be her
room. A small black grate for heat in the evening and a plain screen so that she might have a
little privacy while changing. Once all the men had left, she was ushered inside her new
chamber.
20 | P a g e
"Apologies my lady but we do not have a bed to spare at present," said the man, holding the
fabric back for her to enter.
"That's quite alright," she said graciously and stepped inside.
Were it not for the tent fabric instead of walls and the rush mats on the ground instead of a
stone floor, she could have been in one of the lesser guest rooms at Willow Glen. There was a
straw mattress with several blankets and a large fur placed atop two large crates to keep it off
the ground. A small dresser and table with a pitcher for water were off to one side as well as a
small set of shelves. On the 'wall' she shared with Lord Tywin, she could make out some large
piece of furniture (a wardrobe?) taking up nearly half his side of the tent. She didn't like the
idea of only being separated from him by several flimsy pieces of tent fabric but she could ask
for no more.
She could feel Lord Tywin's eyes boring into the back of her skull so she turned to face him.
"Thank you my lord. This is much better than I had imagined," she said with a small smile.
"Good. You will remain here until dinner. I have matters to attend to," said Lord Tywin,
dismissing the guard who had come into her chamber with them.
She bowed her head slightly in acquiescence.
He stepped closer to her and lowered his voice.
"You are a guest under my care and I have sworn to look to your safety while you are here,
however; should you give me any reason to question your true motives, you will suffer the
consequences. There are many things worse than pain my lady."
Her cool grey eyes met his sharp green ones, unflinchingly.
"You do not need to remind me of the precariousness of my position here my lord; I am very
aware of it. I chose to be here in the hopes that it may save lives and I will do nothing to
threaten your belief in my aim. I do not trust you either, my lord, but I am here now and so for
all our sakes, I suggest that we get on with it."
She waited for a reaction of any kind to her words but he remained as still as stone. Finally, as
her nerves were starting to fray at the edges, he made a noncommittal noise in his throat and
swept out without another word.
She took a breath to steady herself and then went to her satchel to unpack her things. In the
main room of their tent, Lord Tywin started up a muffled conversation with several other men.
She was still annoyed about her weapons being confiscated but Lord Tywin did not become the
man he was by being trusting. Ailyn decided to let him think he had the upper hand. Lady Ailyn
21 | P a g e
smiled to herself as the daggers in her boots nudged against her calves. She was no lion but
hawks still have claws.
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