FORGED FROM STORMS

victaria baratheon nee tyrell ruling lady of storms end ❝ her smile seemed to possess an influence like light to irradiate all mental darkness. it was not like a human loveliness that these gentle smiles went and came; but as a sunbeam on a lake, now light and now obscure, ❞

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tatethetully‌:

A hearty laugh escaped the lips of the Lord Tully as he tripped over his own two feet while attempting to learn the latest, most fashionable dance in King’s Landing. It was entirely too many steps for him to ever remember. Knowing well that he had been bested by the number, Tate bowed politely to his partner and excused himself from the floor. He’d begun to sweat at some point in the night and all the wine and water in the world wasn’t doing a bit of good to cool him off. He decided to step outside of the hall and let the night chill do it’s part. Using the cuff of his shirt, Tate wiped the sweat from his brow. A flicker of the candles caught a shadow in his peripheral causing him to turn quickly to catch the figure with his eyes. “What are you doing out here? The party’s in there.”

     Thoroughly disengaged, Victaria slips from the crowd without even offering an apology for her departure - she feels that there is no great need. A grand occasion hosted by the Tyrells! It is far from grand and the remaining roses feel like nothing more than frauds. The air is cool on the slivers of bare skin, but she does not feel the chill that she might down in Storms End. The petite lady turns at the sound of a voice, while a neat brow lifts up at the man’s inquisitiveness. “ Oh, my mistake, and here I thought all the people and the music had suddenly just vanished,” she responds drily, knotting her arms elegantly atop her gown. 

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 *   I.   /   EMERIC TYRELL

“The only thing missing from Highgarden, dear cousin, is your claim to it.” Emeric’s voice was smooth, if not it’s usually monotone as he spoke to the younger woman. Emeric had always taken a semblance of pride in their house words – growing strong – even in the days when he was more knight than lord. Yet it was his uncle who had seemed to nearly ruin that saying, and Victaria and her younger sister had been the direct result. 

He drank deeply from a cup of wine – the vintage had been imported from The Reach and into King’s Landing for the ball, and it reminded him of how quickly he wanted to leave this place and return to his home. Yet, his wife had outdone herself – the Red Keep had practically been transformed into his stronghold between the carefully chosen rooms for the festivities and endless harvest decorations she’d had made. 

“I am hardly jovial. Simply a man seeking to please his wife, and bring her the comforts of home.” Yet that wasn’t his only motivation. Though unsaid by all – even between himself and the king – bringing the Harvest Moon Ball to the capital was much as a show of power as it was a celebration. 

       DESPITE THE EFFORTS OF THOSE CLAIMING TO BE TRUE TYRELLS, the harvest festival feels like a lesser imitation of a once grand event. There is no comparison and the way the Red Keep is dressed up to emulate her childhood home only forces her stomach to twist into an uncomfortable knot. “ Quite right, but then I have hardly been left with nothing, ” she retorts calmly, not allowing her words to be infected with a tartness inflicted by the natural irritation derived from time spent with her cousin. “ And why would I seek to claim something that you’re already damaged ”

The bright pigment of her eyes darkens as she narrows her cerulean eyes at him, even if her lips remain poised in an elegant smile. “ Do you wish for me to coo at your triumphs as a doting husband? Or, perhaps, her true comforts of home would be frost from the North! ” With a roll of her eyes, Victaria diverts her attention away from her cousin to look around the room of courtiers. She was not fooled into thinking that it is the only reason for him hosting an event in the capital, that does not seem like his style - even if he does claim to like his wife. It would be interesting to crack open his head and see what secrets lay beneath, but she does not lose sleep over her idiot cousin. “ The true achievement, dear cousin, is Persephone having any patience left after marrying you. ” 

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*   I.   /   MYRCELLA CLEGANE

      myrcella took another mouthful of wine, gulping it down. she needed all the courage she could get, even if it came from a sweet Dornish red. tonight she was meant to be making an impression, and thus far she felt as if the only impression she was giving was of a nervous little girl. she felt overdressed, heavy skirts and dripping in gold, like a child dressed up rather than a young woman capable of being a great lady. perhaps it was that her betrothed was not by her side - yet she doubted it. even if he were here, it would make no difference. it was not he she longed for. she drank again, before painting a pleasant smile on her face. perhaps she could pretend, until started to feel real. ‘ you look lovely tonight, ‘ myrcella said, approaching the other. ‘ how are you enjoying the festivities? ‘ 

       SHE REMINDS VICTARIA OF SOMETHING CAUGHT, fabric on a branch, a fish upon the shore, a trapped bird with beautiful wings flapping about desperate to flee from the constraints of an iron-grasp. The needy gulps of wine do not go unnoticed by the Baratheon, who quietly watches the growing crowd with muted interest, silent judgement arising within the corners of her mind with every careless act. She turns to the honey-haired girl, an indulging smile resting on the petals of her lips. “ Thank you, my dear, ” she answers the compliment, collecting each one like a perfectly crafted posy. “ They are agreeable. Forgive my boldness, do you have a penchant for wine or something to be nervous about? ” 

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*   I.   /   PERSEPHONE TYRELL

Persephone had learned earlier on in Highgarden that one was not to let down their guard around a Tyrell - particularly one you weren’t familiar with. Emeric she’d learned to trust, and Evelyne she had an unspoken understanding with, but his cousins were a different story. She’d quietly eyed the former Tyrell turned Baratheon woman from across the room on several occasions before finally excusing herself from her present company to formally welcome the woman. “Lady Baratheon - I hope you’ve found the celebration to be as enjoyable as those of your girlhood.” 

      FOR APPEARANCE ALONE SHE SMILES, not indulging in the barbed comments that she allows to slip from her tongue while speaking with her cousin. Persephone Tyrell is a winter rose, ensnared from the icy wastelands of the North and primped in the beauty of Highgarden. As far as Victaria is concerned, no one is worthy of the Reach’s beauty...least of all Emeric. “ The golden memories of my childhood are ripened with time, so they would be hard to match. But the evening is charming, Lady Tyrell, ” she replies, managing a polite response despite her instinctive loathing of the woman. There is little work in making Highgarden beautiful, for it is unrivalled in all of Westeros. “ I ought to visit Highgarden more often, Ursula loves it. But with Hugo’s birth, I have been more than a little busy. ” 

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*   I.   /   EMERIC TYRELL

        THE RETURN TO HIGHGARDEN IS BITTERSWEET, she feels simultaneously comforted by its structure and tormented by the absence of her father. Her loathing for her cousins increased tenfold when Luthor Tyrell died, leaving two daughters behind and no son. Her cousin was always the natural successor, but she could not staunch the bitter resentment which came first with her uncle's appointment, and then Emeric’s. Her hands clench at her sides as she walks down the familiar corridors, takes a flight of stairs with the same flair that she did as a child, warm memories washing over her as she bitterly thinks of her own loss. 

Her posture stiffens as she recognises her cousin, the host of this most delightful event. “ Dear cousin, ” Victaria chimes, the sweetness of her words not matched by the blandness of her tone. A charming expression very quickly takes over as she almost smirks to herself,  “ I did not take you for a jovial man. Is it your hope that the festivities may reignite the true spirit of Highgarden, which has been missing since your ascension? ” 

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*   I.   /   REYNA MARTELL

          DESPITE THE GROWING MASS OF COVERED FACES, she feels as though the people gracing the walls of her childhood home have never been so honest. Comfort comes from wearing a mask, almost as though they can remove the one which they wear daily and slip through the crowd with temporary anonymity. Victaria cares very little for wearing a mask since she feels no great need to shy away from the attention of others. On more than one occasion, she has considered removing the gilded material completely, but that would cause too many frowns for her liking.

Observing the crowd, Victaria feels almost certain that she has recognised a familiar figure. With a graceful rush of her petite figure, she hastens to greet the princess. “ Reyna, ” she calls out gently, the titles between two friends long forgotten. Her slender arm stretches out to curl into the other woman’s, while a genuine smile washes over her rosebud lips. “ I am so pleased that you are here! ”

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Tyrell or baratheon?

          “ Depends on the Tyrell, ” she responds with a curling smile, pressing her lips to the rim of her tea-cup, in hopes of staunching any venomous words. “ I will always hold my ancestors in the highest regard, but my duty is to the Baratheons. ” The affixation of her final statement provides a lightness to the conversation, which she had intentionally stripped away with her initial comment. “ More tea? ” she enquires, motioning to the decorated pot. 

[sadrosegrl]

send in "this or that" asks 🌹🌺🍑

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    IRON FORGED TASK     MASQUERADE ATTIRE + VICTARIA BARATHEON

Never one for shying away from a crowd, Victaria’s ensemble was designed with the idea that she wished to be seen. It screams opulence and wealth, two things which play a very big part in her life. While she is not too conscious of keeping the Baratheon colours, the rich blue of her gown does not stray too far from obsidian, and she keeps her accents all black and gold, to proudly emphasise who she is. The vines on her arms are a symbol of her Tyrell heritage, but they are solidified in gold. This may be a Tyrell ball, but she holds few loyalties to her cousins. 

[ironforgedrp]

♛   VICTARIA BARATHEON

↳ details; cis-female, 26.  479 AC. ↳ status; heterosexual, married, two children (ursula, 3 and hugo, 4mo) ↳ faceclaim; jenna coleman ↳ hails from; highgarden, now storms end. ↳ loyalty; house tyrell, house baratheon.

↳ title; ruling lady of storms end, daughter of house tyrell ↳ religion; the faith of the seven ↳ spoken languages; common tongue ↳ reason in kings landing; to further the interests of house baratheon

♛   PERSONALITY

↳ type; enfj ↳ alignment; chaotic neutral ↳ star sign; scorpio ↳ positives; charming, witty, intelligent, pragmatic, poised. ↳ negatives; stubborn, argumentative, emotional, barbarous, easily-bored.

♛  BIOGRAPHY

↳ family lineage.

It was often said that the finest roses bloomed in Highgarden, and that with each generation the Tyrell’s grew more beautiful – as though they had meticulously planted the right seeds so only the finest blooms remained. Victaria was the first-born daughter to heir of Highgarden, and the pearl of his world. She had sapphires planted in her eyes, or the foreign sea which swept in shades of azure and soft blue, but that gaze captivated from an early age. It did not matter that she was not the only daughter for long, for she had already cemented her place in her father’s heart as the pearl of his world. With her beauty came expectations and promising prospects. Her mother, a mere Fossoway, convinced the heir apparent to scan the bachelor market for a fine match. Victaria was barely even out of the cradle before an engagement was announced to the heir of Storm’s End.

Despite being a symbol of poise and beauty, there was always an underlining sharpness to the young lady who learned how to conceal her thorns very early on in life. She was exceptionally well read and was often in attendance of any social gathering which the kingdom held. In many ways she was similar to her mother Alerie, but it was soon revealed that they would have a strained relationship for the entirety of their times together. Her mother pushed her to be the best, but in Victaria’s eyes she was already better than Alerie.

It was always a rarity that she should discard her charming face and in it’s place allow the ire of her thorny words to peek through, but if somebody tried to get under her skin or be too forward with her, she was always there to push back. It earned her a reputation as a brambled rose.

Her father was outgoing and inspiring, she adored everything that he did and could not wait until he took the place of her grandfather as the Ruling Lord of Highgarden. But it was not to be. She had been painting a portrait when a manservant rushed into the chambers, a distressed look on his features. All the light in her eyes dried up and her knees crumbled to the floor as the sobs echoed through the halls. It was the only time that any one had ever seen Lady Victaria cry, but she wept deeply for her father. His death only made her loathe her mother even more, and her cousins even more than that. Watching them take what should have been her father’s, made her sick to her stomach and she vowed never to forget the suspicion which she felt surrounding his demise.

By the time she married Lord Baratheon, he had already claimed his place as the Ruling Lord of Storm’s End and that meant that she was taken away from girlhood and into a position of power. She felt the envy of many and it made her smile. Their marriage was still in its infancy when she fell pregnant with their first child and the excitement of it made her forget about her heartache, if only for a moment. When Ursula was born, she felt true contentment for the first time in her life – there was not a single barb to tumble from her lips.

The sweetened harmony of her life did not last, for she found herself feeling isolated. Perhaps, the people around her thought that motherhood had softened the brambled stag, and it infuriated her. In the quiet she started to remember her sadness, and the bitterness which she felt for her remaining relatives. Her melancholic attitude displeased her husband and they argued frequently, leaving her feeling more abandoned. In a moment of weakness, she did something unspeakable, and sought comfort in the arms of her husband’s brother.

When she realised the consequences of her actions, Victaria swore to never again forsake her vows. She fought to mend the fractured strands of her marriage and be the poised and witty lady which the Stormlands were all charmed by. Not too soon after, her second pregnancy was announced…a mystery. Victaria could not say for certain who the father was, and her husband’s brother knew that. Thus, the birth of her son was tainted by the secret which hung above her head.

↳ personality.

She is every bit a rose. Victaria is beautiful and well educated, and has a natural ability to put people at ease around her or –if she wishes – to disrupt them with her witty words and barbarous tone. From a young age she knew how to stand up for herself and not be pushed into a corner to be silence. All of her pragmatism came from her mother, while her father gave her softness. And when he died, Victaria lost a piece of her kindness that day. She can be stubborn and passionate, and at times argumentative.  She is a storm of a woman, in which her moods change with the wind.  

↳ lannisters ruling.

History taught her that the Lannisters and Tyrells were not natural allies, and that the Baratheons themselves were sworn enemies to the lions at various points in history. But then again, Victaria could not say that a single house was exempt from rivalry and war, they all fought against one another at some point many years ago. Maybe it was the voice of her mother still speaking, but she sought power and thought that the Lannister appointment could be advantageous for her own house. If a Targaryen could unite with a Lannister, anything was possible. Victaria became determined to ensure that she pushed her husband to further the interests of their house, the stags needed to be a force once again.

♛  STATUS: TAKEN

[colemandaily]