[amongvipered]

independent and private princess elia nymeros martell from george r.r martin’s a song of ice and fire series. loved by kore ( she / they, 21+ ) book based and heavily influenced by my own headcanons. also found at @realmsdelite . due to the nature of elia’s story heavy triggers will be present on this blog — including but not limited to depictions of violence, racism, child death, rape, and mentions of chronic illness.

this blog is a study in: the deconstruction of the fantasy princess, deconstruction of the unwanted wife trope, kindness not as a definition of weakness, the rose without a thorn, a journey in motherhood, and a princess readying to become queen consort of an increasingly volatile court.

same rules apply on my main blog. any additional necessary character portrayal notes will be added here beneath a read more.

[amongvipered]

@glorytragedy liked for a thing ( for rhaegar )

a slow, steady bend at the waist, one hand supporting the girl's head, the other her bottom as she lowers her carefully into her cradle. the soft, incremental inclination of her chin as she watches the babe wriggle where she lay, curling up into a ball, and stretching out, arms reaching aimlessly above her head for something, before settling down. a knuckle brushes the ghost of a gentle touch against the side of her daughter's face, lips curling upward at their corners into a wide, warm smile.

and the woman leans forward to press a tender kiss to her baby's forehead before she straightens, and moves to sit upon the edge of her bed, fingers curled loose around the wooden lip. there's a low creaking sound that fills the space in place of words. the intermittment half hearted whine as the babe fought the need for sleep. and yet, she could see the way her daughter's eyelids had grown heavy, fluttering, and lingering closed for seconds longer each instance before they had opened again.

she watched her for moments still longer, before her head rose, and she glanced over in the direction of her husband, black brows tugging inward the slightest bit before it smoothes. it was always fascinating to watch as her husband worked through deep thought, long fingers tugging, pulling at one thread, and then another, if that one did not give; and the issue did not begin to unravel. the princess was content to give him that silence, for as long as he might have needed. the only interjection made to remind him that she was there, and would be, and that he need not figure it out alone from sheer necessity, and that sometimes, issues unraveled easier when one had help.

the creaks continue, lower as the motion grows softer, " we need to take things slow, and discreet, " the words pitched just high enough to get his attention, she continues, " few will seldom be so inclined as to risk the wroth of king and council, 'less they know with a decided certainty, that there stands the possibility of victory. you have proven yourself more then enough, do not doubt. but what they need is assurances, promises of pardons, " were they to rise up against the crown, the crown that would be his, were they to be successful.

" the knowledge, " she said, her voice quiet, and careful, yet, pointed, " that they will not be made an example, in which to dissuade others from doing the same, should they end up dissatisfied with you, " she glanced back toward their daughter, and saw that the girl's eyes had closed, rocking her for a few moments more, the woman gently eased the cradle to a stopping point before she rose, moving to claim the seat opposite where he sat before her desk, she took the seat behind it. her arm extends, right hand reaching to rest upon his left, to offer a light, reassuring squeeze before she speaks, " it will take time, rhaegar. repeated displays of that promise. "

[amongvipered]

@mayregina liked for a starter.

it is with a cautionary glance around that the woman stops, taking a single step forth before she turns on a heel, placing herself half way infront of the other queen. there is no one else in this particular corridor, and yet, she does not dare allow herself to speak freely. not yet. her chin raises the slightest bit, and black brows tug the slightest bit inward as lips press together for a heartbeat's width, words forming on her tongue that dissipate, replaced quickly with another. she vies for the correct ones, and discarding and reaching anew for the right way to say.

" would you, in truth, prefer a tour of the keep in this moment, your majesty ? if so, i would be honored to give it, " but. the woman had wondered in the moments since their proper introduction, whether or not the other was in truth, even interested at all. there was something off about the silence, an unusual tension, there was a fullness to it that made her suspect that it had naught to do with her, and more, that there was something carrying the other's thoughts away from the ins and outs of the red keep, " or, perhaps would you rather a moment of quiet before the events of the evening ?"

could it have been the stress of the ceremonies arranged, presented to serve as proper welcome for the queen and king of camelot, that had stressed her so ? if it was not, she could not imagine that it did not add to it. and there was only a few short hours before, time that could be served better doing whatever else needed be done, though it was a display of propriety to extend the offer, and one to accept, she could not help but wonder... she could not fault her for it, if there was. her words then are quiet, and careful, and entirely kind, voice pitched low so that even if others should approach, they would hear little, if anything.

“ court is so often a tumult, “ delicate words posed directed to the pale red stones, the sun shining from the open sills, casting a radiatory net that spread softly outward, “ even with the mind at ease, it can become caught in the winds, and rattled, far too easily if one does not take the right precautions to steal oneself. as i’m sure you know, your majesty, “ that was to say — that she did not blame her at all if she needed a moment. though she did not dare speak those words aloud, it is clear in the gentle curve beginning to form upon the woman’s lips, in the slight inclination of her head as she continued, “ after all, i’m sure i shall be able to show you around another time. “

[amongvipered]

@dimeremantiro liked for a thing ( jeyne )

she lingers, palm rest gently, flat against the aged wood just below the iron bar that halved the chamber door, black brows bowing inward, tugging together in a path halted only a quarter way through the motion - her chin tilted slightly to the side," there will be questions, of course, " she'll allow, the words quiet and kind, straightforward and even. on a heel she turns, facing the other completely. her husband's sister, she thinks, words forming silent, unwilling to let them break into the slow yet steady rising light of the cresting dawn without the other's consent to the point.

yet as she watches her, there is something about her that she recognizes. something familiar in the way long fingered hands bend, and move, in the shape of her jaw, " but they are not questions need be given an answer just yet, or at all, if you do not choose, " the realm at large held fast to the belief that it held claim to the truths of kings and lords and princes, an exchange that existed in return for the power and authority that such positions garnered, and she knew well why. such truths would not always be irrelevant to the way the realm was ran, and a lot of times it had proven a danger for the smallfolk to go unaware to the conflict brewing between the nobility. for soon enough, they would be expected to fight, and die for those conflicts.

and yet the young woman before her did not hold title, she did not hold any position, her truths need not be relevant to any but her and her little boy, " you will have the time to decide what you might choose to say, if you should say anything, " and if she should deem such far too dangerous to consider, then that too would be more then acceptable. she could not blame her for her weariness, for the caution in which she approached the possibilities laid before her in the mere having of this discussion, " you might also, " she began, " decide that you do not wish to speak now, and should choose to have that talk later. "

[amongvipered]

@glorytragedy liked for a thing ( for rhaella )

shoulder blades pull back, horizontal line forming between them as she stands the slightest bit straighter. lips pressing together. yet unease does not blossom, it seeps through the way restless fingers flex and curl into a loose fist before extending, fingers splaying concealed by the sleeve of the gown that seems heavier by the hour, by the minute. she did not know what the point of it was.... it did little to ease the radiating pain that had always felt as if it had burrowed it's way into her bones and was content to dig deeper, an itching, echoing ache that only spread from fingers to palm to wrist to arm. her elbows, her shoulders. on her face, however, there is nothing but stringent determination, and the near consistent gathering of her reserves of will. the king may die, the maester had said.

but he may yet live, she had answered. he needed live. what remained of the court of king aerys the second were not like to accept a dornishwoman to lead for the duration of their son's long regency, and that did not answer such questions as who would serve as hand . he needed live, for there was so much left that needed doing, there was so much that had as yet gone unsaid between the two of them. and yet... if the gods saw fit to take him, and the maester had said it was indeed a very real possibility, they needed have a plan. days had passed, since. and yet though he had not improved, his condition had not worsened, either.

it felt as though the court waited with bated breath to see which way the needle of fate swung, in this. some upon the small council, she did not doubt, would relish in the possibilities that a babe boy king would present, an extended period of near complete influence, deeming her own negligible, at best. her husband had not yet been crowned king... would she become queen dowager, as well, despite that ? or dowager princess of dragonstone ? a fleeting glance in spared at her mother in law's face, before lashes shutter and black eyes fall, " ser barristan selmy is still healing, but he has assured me he is more then capable of seeking replacements to his number, " it is a thing she is grateful that she did not need handle as well, even as the fact runs through her brain a low, shrill keening growing in volume as the reality chases swiftly, and lands, and she remembers that every other had fallen. all dead, a hollow thought, even her uncle lewynn. though he had died bravely, ser lewynn had done so in part because she and her children had been at the mercy of the old king, " and when that day arrives, you and prince viserys will be granted your own protection. it will be your own choice. "

" he never spoke to me of who he might have wanted to serve as hand. i had not asked - i had not thought i needed to, " were it up to her, she would have chosen her brother. yet... it would not be wise, she thinks, to test known waters more then she absolutely needed. they would not react well to two martells leading in the place of a targaryen king. whoever she chose would need to be a safer option, yet, capable. never one that could be accused of betrayal. were it even a year ago, rhaegar would send a raven to ser tywin lannister asking for his return without a second thought. yet... now. it was not a thing that could be. though he had not betrayed them, she trusted that man now even less than she had done then, " he needs more honorable men about him, " words are quiet, not soft, spoken at last as eyes raise and settle up her mother in law's face, " steadfast, loyal friends ... he does not require heedless ambition. he requires an advisor unincumbered by such things, not near torn in two courting favor from each direction. " that, she thinks, would result in no movement at all. no growth, stagnation stemming from preoccupation with selfish desires.

but who ? self interest was so often one in many base laid stones in the foundation of the political, as integral as breath, guiding and grounding the behaviors of so many. who among them held an altruistic interest and a want to take up a position of such prominence for the bettering of the realm at large, and not for what one might gain from such an advancement ? the decision could wait, she knew, until they knew for a certainty whether or not he would... but she could not think of it. she would not sit around, and wait to be meant in helplessness with what was to be her fate. and she did not want him to return to society to this, a realm near wrent apart from the instability of the last year and stopped - watching him, waiting for choices that need be made to be done, for the longer they waited, the more instability could seep, even more so that it had done, " he will live, " she says softly, " but, should he see the realm so... stood still, he will ignore the advise of his maesters and attempt to correct it, and that, i think, will be what endangers him the most as he heals. "

[amongvipered]

@geelenka liked for a starter.

thick shutters pulled tight, the falling rain hits, and bounces — glancing off the wood with the low hum of persisting repetition, faint little pattering sounds ( a calm but heavy storm, she thinks, and wonders how long this one was to last ) it was louder the closer one got to the stone drum, and yet here in sea dragon tower, it was near muffled. there was the rain, and there was the fire. the periodic almost-loud-in-the -relative-quiet crack as tinder split, and darkened - as tongues of yellow, orange and red danced along its surface. a hand rested flat beside her for support as she shifted where she sat, sitting up straight, leaning off the tall back of the cushioned bench on which the pair sat. leaning the slightest bit forward, the woman's head turns, black eyes raising to study her husband's face.

her lips purse for the briefest of moments - a question brimming half formed upon her tongue - it is not from a lack of questions, but a surplus, there were so many things that she wanted to know — they smoothe, and the tension eases. the corners of her lips curling upward into the beginnings of a half smile borne from inquistion, a gentle uptilt, " did you spend any time here, before ? " perhaps he had not. perhaps he had not seen any justifiable reason to. there was so much to occupy his time at court, after all, he could have well not seen it the right time to step away.

" had you wanted to ? " he was quiet, rhaegar - he spoke little without her prompting with a question, or a statement - anything that said that she wanted to speak to him. it was not something she minded, if it was what he needed. though she wondered at the reason, worried, perhaps that it stemmed from discomfort. if it had, with what ? was it her presence, or the mere prospect of speaking without direction in mind that was the source ? if it was, she could not fault him for it. though she did not like to think that he was uncomfortable in her presence, she could understand it. they had not been wed for very long at all. the solitary turn of moon since had been spent in large part getting their household in order.

yet. she looked at him in silence for another long moment, before her chin dipped, gaze going down, and then up, with a fleeting raise of black brows that smooth as her smile grows a fraction. there was their own move, and then there had been the faciliation of the move of her ladies, and the cementation of her own household within the holdfast, and then there had been the fatigue, the bone deep exhaustion that had lingered for over a week after the fact. but... as she had gotten some of her energy back, " i was, at last able to visit the library, " she offered, and something shone within the woman's eyes as she did; the ember of excitement, the glimmer of earnest interest, “there are so many books here — that are over a century older then the construction of the red keep itself. history, first-hand accountings, at that. "

[amongvipered]

@warwaged liked for a thing ( aegon )

the scrape was long, and thin, and seemingly shallow - it did not continue to bleed, if it ever had - but the sight of the torn skin just below her son's cheekbone did not quite halt her breath, but made the space that it had to pass through uncomfortably narrow, and with each inhalation the sensation dragged down her throat, pulled in, and in, as if she had swallowed a rock, and it was solid stone knotting at its base, and not a sudden well of worried emotion. she would have been informed, surely, if something more then a mere mishap in the training yards had occurred. an accident, that was all that this likely was.. and yet. she did not know. and yet, even still, to see it pained.

her thumb settles on the boy's chin, forefinger hooking just underneath, the queen's touch ever gentle as she tilts it up, and to the side, left hand raising to rest lightly upon the uninjured side ( the purpose threefold; to stabillize the boy's head so she might see it closer, to comfort, and to reassure that she was not angry, not right now, not ever - really, merely concerned and stern when it called. but never did she speak to either of her children in anger ) as she inspects the wound upon the boy's cheek, lips pursing; black brows bowing inward, and then tugging together. had he fallen ? it did not look to be the cut of any sort of blade. and if so, from what ? she did not see any other injury present on his face, but that did not speak for elsewhere. or any that could have existed inside of him.

" have you been to see the maester yet ? " the words are quiet and even, patient, open - wanting the truth from her son, even if the answer was no, " or was the wound not quite so severe that it necessitated that ? " perhaps it merely looked more alarming then it was. she could not allow herself to believe that until until she knew the source of the scrape, " was it the training yard, aegon ? your master at arms had said you would not be training with live steel for a moon's turn yet. has something changed ? " or had the boy himself decided that it must, and had chosen to take up steel before his teacher had deemed it time. if he had, then why ? what reason could there be for rushing things ?

" or was it something else, entirely ? " the fingers of her right hand leave his chin, and her hand returns to her side, though her left remains as she speaks, " you need not tell me, if you do not feel comfortable to. only tell me that if you have not been seen to, and you need to be, you will, and i shall be content, " her thumb brushes length wise the line beneath his cheekbone, back and forth, a tender gesture as the furrow between her brow smoothes, and then looks as if it intended to grow anew with the fleeting tug in of her eyebrows as she says, " just know that i will not be angry with you, whatever you may chose. "

[sugurugetos]

KATE SHARMA BRIDGERTON: 3x01

[amongvipers]

princess elia was a good and gracious lady, she was kind, and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit.

independent & private princess elia nymeros martell, loved by kore.

in dorne, she walked among vipers and none would bite her – in king’s landing, she found herself surrounded by lions.

[dailybridgerton]

SIMONE ASHLEY as KATE SHARMA BRIDGERTON — 2x04: Victory

[alayne-stone]

Sailing on ten thousand ships, Princess Nymeria led the Rhoynar to southeastern Dorne. Nymeria married Lord Mors Martell of the Sandship, forming House Nymeros Martell, and the Rhoynar intermarried with the bannermen of Mors. Nymeria named her husband "Prince of Dorne", using the Rhoynish term instead of the Westerosi title of "king".

Dorne successfully resisted House Targaryen during Aegon's Conquest and First Dornish War. When Dorne was peacefully incorporated into the Seven Kingdoms during the reign of Daeron II Targaryen, the Dornishmen received concessions from the Iron Throne, unlike the other Great Houses. Among these were the right to retain the Dornish royal title of prince, while the rulers of the other regions of the Seven Kingdoms had been reduced to wardens or lords paramount during the Conquest and forced to give up their royal titles and crowns.

Elia Martell Week 2022 - Day Three: Royalty.

[amongvipered]

@ozgog liked for a thing

the babe's arm extends the slightest bit from her side, little fingers reaching, curling and uncurling around the silk of sleeve just above her right elbow, a reflexive movement as she walks, her face burrowed into that shoulder.rhaenys' eyes were still open, though her eyelids grew heavier with every step, motion in small hands growing more sparing as she succumbed ever further to sleep. she could hear the voices, spoken just beyond her hearing. that she need not bother herself with the raising of the babe at all, that it did not befit a queen to be, to care for the girl, to worry for her more then she worried for the business of her husband ( unbecoming, the word had been. she thinks with a soft exhale, and even if it was true in their eyes, she cared not ) she had never wanted there to be such distance, she had wanted a child to raise,not one to hand off to a governess or nanny, or leave in the care of a septa.

she did not want to merely bear a child, to bring one into the realm as naught more then an offering, a gift to the iron throne of their forebearers, to know rarely the presence of their mother or father. she wanted her daughter, and whatever other children she might bear to know they were loved. she wanted to nurture and care for her children, wanted to rock them to sleep. the princess' left hand raises to settle upon her daughter's back, the featherlit pressure an assurance, and gentle reminder that she was there, and she always would be. she did not believe there needed be a choice, but if there was, elia martell had made it six moons ago, and would make it again. whether the lords and ladies of the seven kingdoms considered it unbecoming, or not.

an inhalation of breath is taken, slow and steadying, in and out; the evening was cool, not cold, and the breeze that blew was soft, not rough, the impact of a breath loosed close to one's cheek, a tentative expulsion that surrounded, a relief since stepping out of the packed main hall. the windows had been opened, yet the sensation of so many people in the same room, moving, then dancing, moving to talk while others danced, had trapped the hot air in side and refused to let it go. one day, and one day soon her duties would necessitate the increase in leaving her baby with another ( though she would try her hardest to make it as infrequent as possible — to be queen meant an increase in presence, and not one that she could well put off, to handle matters that she would not want a child that young to hear )

but for now, it was time to put her baby down for the night, and to retire herself to her own chambers. exhaustion seeped into bone, draining marrow and muscle with every step that she took exacerbated, by the added mental strain. it was not quite a regular evening, and her husband was off, searching for the knight that had so enraged his father ( who had not attended this eve, yet the air was still rife with tension as a result; many wondering how the king would react if the mystery knight was not found. leading to an all together uncomfortable environment ) someone is turning around the corner from the eastern chamber, to this one. and as she nears... she is familiar. though she only met her the once, the name resurfaces. the corners of her lips curl upward into the beginnings of a warm, welcoming smile, though once fully borne it is a faint thing, and it passes between one heartbeat and the next. black eyes are the low blaze of an hearth fire, all kindness and a warmth steadily alight, even after her smile had faded.

a softness that was carefully restrained, and the slightest bit strained. the feeling was a genuine one, but the physical manifestation of it… the effort that was involved in displaying it outwardly felt increasingly herculean. yet she liked turstin, well and truly, from the brief moments that the two of them had spoke near a year past. she wanted to at least make the attempt for her, “ it has been quite an age, has it not ? “ the words spoken just the slightest bit louder, so that she might be able to hear her, but soft in tone, so that she did not startle her little girl by the sudden noise, yet clearly pleased to see the other, “ how have you been faring ? “

[edenmemes]

misc poetry sentence starters

❝  one gets so used to one’s own horrors, one forgets how they must seem to other people.  ❞ ❝  you remind me what love lives in this skin.  ❞ ❝  you are the most phantom-like of all; you are a mere dream.  ❞ ❝  i’m not telling you a story so much as a shipwreck—the places floating, finally legible.  ❞ ❝  the world was made so we can find each other in it.  ❞ ❝  the night isn’t dark; the world is dark. stay with me a little longer.  ❞ ❝  i want you desperately. i want your strength and your softness, your hands, all of you.  ❞ ❝  is that too much to expect? that i would name the stars for you?  ❞ ❝  against your cheek my hand is warm and full of tenderness.  ❞ ❝  the world grows green again when you smile.  ❞ ❝  your share of pains would fill a sea.  ❞ ❝  i’m so stuck on the ‘was’ of people.  ❞ ❝  what i love in you is your power of loving, a bit wild, a bit primitive, but absolute.  ❞ ❝  i like figuring you out. you are so human and puzzling.  ❞ ❝  the unwillingness to try is worse than any failure.  ❞ ❝  you wanted happiness. i can’t blame you for that.  ❞ ❝  i did violence to my own heart.  ❞ ❝  i don’t know how to stay tender with this much blood in my mouth.  ❞ ❝  like a magpie, i am a scavenger of shiny things: fairy tales and dead languages.  ❞ ❝  and here you come with a shield for a heart and a sword for a tongue.  ❞ ❝  you kiss the back of my legs and i want to cry.    only the sun has come this close, only the sun.  ❞ ❝  sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof you’ve been ruined.  ❞ ❝  when will it cease, this monstrous rage of yours?  ❞ ❝  i will plant my hands in the garden. i will grow, i know, i know.  ❞ ❝  i had it all and i want it back again.  ❞ ❝  i don’t care about anyone, and the feeling is quite obviously mutual.  ❞ ❝  we are two reflections that cross swords with each other.  ❞ ❝  as for me, i am a watercolour. i wash off.  ❞ ❝  do you dare send me away as though you were were waiting for something better?  ❞ ❝  my dear, you are in danger of being burned by your own flame.  ❞ ❝  i am three oceans away from my soul.  ❞ ❝  you, occasionally, glimmer with a light i’ve never seen before. it frightens me.  ❞ ❝  i went to sleep last night so i could see you.  ❞ ❝  even the eyes of gods must adjust to light. even gods have gods.  ❞ ❝  how much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it’s some kind of murder?  ❞ ❝  it does me no good to be good to me now.  ❞ ❝  i may look alright, but if you were to look more closely you wouldn’t find a single healthy bit in me.  ❞ ❝  i must clothe myself in other worlds.  ❞ ❝  suffering is the privilege of those who feel.  ❞ ❝  sorry about the blood in your mouth. i wish it was mine.  ❞ ❝  the vigor, the fire, that enables you to love and create. when you lose that, you’ve lost everything.  ❞ ❝  i can be bold, because i have you with me always.  ❞ ❝  you are shaking fists and trembling teeth. i know: you did not mean to be cruel. that does not mean you were kind.  ❞ ❝  not that i want to be a god or a hero, just to change into a tree,  grow for ages, not hurt anyone.  ❞ ❝  i laughed today. for a second i was unhaunted.  ❞ ❝  you are sunlight through a window, which i stand in, warmed.  ❞ ❝  there’s something electric in your blood.  ❞ ❝  you say you are broken,   but broken mirrors like you create the most beautiful patterns of light.  ❞ ❝  time doesn’t obey our commands.  ❞ ❝  i love you quite passionately, and with a touch of tragedy.  ❞ ❝  to feel anything deranges you. to be seen feeling anything strips you naked.  ❞ ❝  i love you — like a storm bursts overhead — i must confess it; all the more fiercely because you burn and bite.  ❞ ❝  and i have seen rivers, not unlike you, that failed to find their way back.  ❞ ❝  i am less a god now that you’ve touched me.  ❞ ❝  your words are gentle; but my blood runs cold to think what plots you may be nursing deep within your heart.  ❞ ❝  you said i killed you — haunt me then.  ❞ ❝  your soul is frail and solemn, loyal and spring-like.  ❞ ❝  you look like you’ve eaten the sun, like you drank so much sunlight you’re drowning in it.  ❞ ❝  strangeness is a necessary ingredient in beauty.  ❞ ❝  you will hear thunder and remember me.  ❞ ❝  ever think it’s possible for us to be happy?  ❞ ❝  and i would wonder across all the deserts of this world, even after death, to search for you.  ❞ ❝  since we’re bound to be something, why not together?  ❞ ❝  i am ashes were once i was fire.  ❞ ❝  this mouth will destroy you the moment you mistake it for something soft, for something that is yours.  ❞ ❝  it’s no easy thing to bear, the weight of sweetness.  ❞ ❝  kill the light! i’d rather wallow in the dark.  ❞ ❝  i have thought of you often since the darkness.  ❞ ❝  with your presence the sun becomes irrelevant.  ❞ ❝  there is no god left in this skin. there’s just the ash. just the ash.  ❞ ❝  open your eyes, look more sharply, see me as i am.  ❞ ❝  what the hell is tragedy? i am.  ❞ ❝  i’ve got a lot of feeling for you. you’re kind.  ❞ ❝  how beautiful it is, how beautiful, that glow before the stars break.  ❞ ❝  so much to do today: kill memory, kill pain, turn heart into a stone, and yet prepare to live again.  ❞ ❝  i am myself. that is not enough.  ❞ ❝  i may be mad, god-seized, but i will stand outside my madness.  ❞ ❝  my power, which to me is still a curse —  ❞ ❝  ocean sea with its caressing swell; it has so often cooled my heart.  ❞ ❝  do you bathe in perfume, and dry yourself in light?  ❞ ❝  i like you; your eyes are full of language.  ❞ ❝  let me tell you what i do know.    i am more than one thing and not all of those things are good.  ❞ ❝  you are the cause and the cure — both.  ❞ ❝  i have kisses for the back of your neck.  ❞ ❝  your beautiful glance is unbearably cruel.  ❞ ❝  we might meet again, someday between dreams at dawn.  ❞ ❝  suffering is a terrible fire; it either purifies or destroys.  ❞ ❝  lately it hurts more to imagine you are a stranger rather than a destroyer.  ❞ ❝  and i say to myself: a moon will rise from my darkness.  ❞ ❝  since you walked out on me, i’m getting lovelier by the hour. i glow like a corpse in the dark.  ❞ ❝  i will not whine. i will obey and be forever still.  ❞ ❝  you move like the moon.  ❞ ❝  my eyes ache with the weight of unshed tears.  ❞ ❝  in your eyes, the fires of twilight.  ❞ ❝  do not haunt my soul; i have done well forgetting you.  ❞ ❝  i am no one. i cannot love. it’s in my blood.  ❞ ❝  you’re wearing your armor to protect your heart. who can blame you? it only makes sense in a world like this one.  ❞ ❝  you are not real. you are a dream of a dream.  ❞ ❝  there are so many things i’m not allowed to tell you.  ❞ ❝  i am indeed a shameless, evil-minded and abominable creature.  ❞ ❝  come this evening — i am eager for stars.  ❞ ❝  i am on fire with that soft sound you make, in uttering my name.  ❞ ❝  i want you mostly in the morning when my soul is weak from dreaming.  ❞ ❝  to me you are the desert and the sea; everything secretive.  ❞ ❝  i thought i was wounded to the core but i was only bruised.  ❞ ❝  it is a dead heart. it is inside of me. it is a stranger.  ❞ ❝  i live — but i’m mutilated.  ❞ ❝  if there is a light then i am going to swallow it.    if there is a god then i’m going to make him cry.  ❞ ❝  i am condemned to be a saint or a monster: unable to be the one, unwilling to be the other.  ❞ ❝  you will open your wounds and make them a garden.  ❞ ❝  i come home — and i feel like a ghost returning its haunt.  ❞ ❝  i planted roses, but without you they were thorns.  ❞ ❝  everything inside me is in revolt.  ❞ ❝  how this darkness soaks me through and through.  ❞ ❝  give me my robe, put on my crown; i have immortal longings in me.  ❞ ❝  say something dangerous like i love you.  ❞ ❝  listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?  ❞ ❝  in times of crisis, we must decide again and again whom we love.  ❞ ❝  breathe the scent of little, earthly things. let the twilight touch you.  ❞ ❝  my heart is just like the ocean, has storm and calm and tides.  ❞ ❝  you became for me a sacred being, not to be touched save in adoring thoughts.  ❞ ❝  gods are stubborn. so am i.  ❞ ❝  is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?  ❞ ❝  there’s something soft in me. i killed it and it’s rotting.  ❞ ❝  beware. beware. there is a tenderness.  ❞ ❝  half gods are worshipped in wine and flowers. real gods require blood.  ❞ ❝  i’m alive. like a wound, a flower in the flesh, the path of aching blood is open within me.  ❞ ❝  you dangle on the leash of your own longing; your need grows teeth.  ❞ ❝  i have it in me…to scare myself with my own desert places.  ❞ ❝  my mouth still houses century-old magic.     in my ears i hear a ringing and singing and no god.  ❞ ❝  keep talking. i’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice.  ❞ ❝  i’m full of poetry now. rot and poetry. rotten poetry.  ❞ ❝  this skin is sick with loneliness.  ❞ ❝  memories are sharp. they bite. i have spent most of my life trying to grow a thicker skin just to make sure i would not bleed out whenever i felt those teeth scrape up against me.  ❞ ❝  i wonder if i will ever find a language to speak of the things that haunt me the most.  ❞ ❝  after fury, what do you do with the remains?  ❞ ❝  come on, dance with me. the earth is spinning. we can’t just stand on it.  ❞ ❝  let’s admit, without apology, what we do together.  ❞ ❝  try to find the right place for yourself. if you can’t find it, at least dream of it.  ❞ ❝  it takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations.  ❞ ❝  i am too full of life to be half-loved.  ❞ ❝  today you want nothing because wanting comes too close to feeling.  ❞ ❝  there’s nothing more terrible, more alluring, more mysterious than love.  ❞ ❝  heavenly wine and roses seem to whisper to me when you smile.  ❞ ❝  my soul is devoutly and wholly under your spell.  ❞ ❝  will you see the human in my being?  ❞ ❝  if i had a flower for every time i thought of you…i could walk through my garden forever.  ❞ ❝  part broken part whole, you begin again.  ❞ ❝  i don’t know if love’s a feeling. sometimes i think it’s a matter of seeing. seeing you.  ❞ ❝  i wonder which will get you killed faster, your loyalty or your stubbornness?  ❞ ❝  whether you come as a lover or an exeutioner, i am ready to receive you.  ❞ ❝  i think i understand your longing. it looks so much like mine.  ❞ ❝  i’ve had so many knives stuck into me. when they hand me a flower, i can’t quite make out what it is.  ❞ ❝  i like the sea: we understand one another. it is always yearning, sighing for something it cannot have; so am i.  ❞ ❝  do i not live? badly, i know, but i live.  ❞ ❝  something of you stuck with me. a splinter.  ❞ ❝  i clung to your hands so that something human might exist in the chaos.  ❞ ❝  sometimes i shut my eyes, and shut my heart towards you, and try hard to forget you because you grieve me so, but you’ll never go away. oh you never will.  ❞ ❝  my golden love, if only you knew, what precious honey you are for me.  ❞ ❝  i had an old wound once, but it is healing.  ❞ ❝  always this in-betweenness, this almost, this it might be that…  ❞ ❝  when i close my eyes, i see you. when i open my eyes i want to see you.  ❞ ❝  dark as it is — you see, that little flickering, is the light of my soul.  ❞ ❝  am i a monster or is this what it means to be a person?  ❞ ❝  i am talking about evil. it blooms. it eats. it grins.  ❞ ❝  sapphires are those eyes of yours, ravishingly sweet.  ❞

[amongvipered]

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[amongvipered]

THE LADIES AND COMPANIONS OF PRINCESS ELIA NYMEROS MARTELL: PART TWO — part one.

lady rohanne lannister was the firstborn daughter of ser jaime lannister ( son of jason - born in 245AC ) and his lady wife addison lannister nee tarbeck. she was the niece of damon, johanna, stafford, cerion, jocasta, and tyshara lannister, as well as lynora hill. she was born in 263AC, at casterly rock - as her father served his brother in law, lord tywin, as captain of his household guard before his death in 284AC. she is the older sister of tyland, tyrek and tybolt ( twins ), cerissa and cerelle lannister. she joined the princess' household in early 282AC, a few months shy of her nineteenth birthday. she is stubborn and cautious, and no fan of the subtle intricacies that are inherent when it comes to conversation at court, she prefers to keep to herself, and came off quite standoffish at first, before she got to known the other's in the princess' household, and the princess herself. doing her duties quietly, and deftly until her duties were done, and then retiring to bed.

lady melessa rhysling, was the daughter of lord braxton rhysling and his lady wife, victaria rhysling nee hightower. she was born in 256AC, in the reach, she was the great great granddaughter of ser robyn rhysling, who's eight and thirty year old son took the title of lord when his elder brother passed from the spring sickness in the year 209AC with only female issue ( along with ser robyn himself ) she joined the princess' household in early 280AC. studious, patient, kind, she’s often been heard to say that she would have made a fine maester, for nothing brings her more joy then serving as an instructor.

lady barbrey manderly, was the daughter of ser harmond manderly ( the younger brother of lord wyman manderly, who in turn had a younger sister named arranna ) and his lady wife myriame manderly, nee karstark. she was born in 264AC, at new castle, and is the youngest of elia martell’s ladies, born five moons after the lady aelinor frey. she has two younger sisters: lady lysara manderly and wylla manderly. she joined her household in 281AC, after the tourney of harrenhal ( march of that year ) in april, when the princess’ family traveled a little further north to pay a visit with lord wyman manderly, in the aftermath. she is skilled with the violin, and the high harp, and is a fan of horseback riding. she is intelligent, and amiable. compassionate, kind and determined to succeed in everything that is set before her.

lady aliandra fowler, was the daughter of ser edgar fowler, and his lady wife alyse fowler nee yronwood. she was born in 262AC, at skyreach. she was fostered at starfall from the age of seven years old, to six and ten, in 278AC — at which she returned to skyreach for the next year and a half, and a messenger was sent in mid 279AC to offer her the position as a lady in wait to princess elia, an offer that appealed to the lady aliandra due to the promise of a future that wasn’t set in stone, and didn’t immediately result in a prospective betrothal ( something appealed to her very little - for she wasn’t certain that she ever wanted to get married, and didn’t not believe she needed to as the daughter of a fourth born son ) she is extroverted, and someone with a gift for making you feel welcome in her presence. she is intelligent, and perceptive, curious, and oftentimes high spirited.

lady ysilla uller, was the daughter of lord harmen uller and his lady wife jynessa uller, nee santagar. she was born in 261AC, at hellholt. she is the younger half sister of ellaria sand, and the older sister of ulrick uller, aron uller, wyland uller and gwyneth uller. she is the current heir to hellholt. she joined the princess’ household in early 280AC, and agreed to for the prospect of strengthening ties between the house that she would one day lead and iron throne. she is direct, intelligent, steadfast, and perceptive - and is more then familiar with the ins and outs of politics, having been raised as her father’s heir the whole of her life. she is understanding, and forgiving, and had a strong preference for making friends out of enemies until 283AC, and the death of her lady and her two young children, and has hated lord tywin and the then king robert ever since.

lady ashara dayne, was the daughter of lord alvyar dayne and his lady wife moriah toland, and their third born child and eldest daughter; she had two older brothers, aster ( the current lord of starfall ) and ser arthur dayne, and a much younger sister named allyria. she was born in 261AC, at starfall. she had been fostered at the water gardens from 269AC, when she was eight years old, to 277AC, when she was six and ten, at which point she returned home. she, moriah and aliandra had known each other distantly, as they had been the same age, and fostered in the same place, and were familiar with both the princess elia and the lady delonne before joining elia’s service, which she did, officially, in early 281AC ( circa early february of that year ) just three weeks before the tourney at harrenhal. she left the princess’ service at some point following the tourney, at which she was said to have been dishonored - and many speculate it was because she found out she had fallen pregnant, though nothing was confirmed. she committed suicide shortly after the end of robert’s rebellion.

[amongvipered]

genuinely, considering her prospective marriage to baelor hightower is so fascinating to me

[greengableslover]

BRIDGERTON (2020 - )