♛ → THE VALE presents GINEVRA MÀIRI TEMPLETON, the LADY of NINESTARS. when the dragons danced in the sky they thought the BLACKS would still fly, but in the blink of an eye, they would all die. the 27 year old FEMALE who was GENTLE & NAIVE before they saw the first of the flames, is now CALCULATING & AMBITIOUS after seeing the last. they’re often associated with the flurry of getting ready for a lavish party, saccharine laughter and a graceful, practised posture in a crowded room. ( anya taylor-joy )
; physical attributes
— height; 5 ft 8 — eye color; a deep blue — hair color; strawberry blonde — positive traits before the war; gentle, trusting, bright — negative traits before the war; naive, clumsy, shy — positive traits after the war; thoughtful, ambitious, charming — negative traits after the war; calculating, restless, over-thinking
; bio
— Ginevra was born in the year 117 AC, on the morning of a beautiful spring day. Her mother, the Lady Enide Elesham had gone through difficult labours all throughout the night to eventually welcome her third child, a beautiful, healthy baby girl they named Ginevra, into the world as the grass was still dewy, fog lingering over the estate as the first rays of sunlight began to peek through.
— The very weather on the day of her birth seemed to reflect her upbringing as a young child as well. Long days coloured by lovely sunlight shimmering through as Ginny would be taken on walks through Ninestars’ grounds, or simply running around on her own with dogs that lived in the castle as well as with the other children in residence. Friendships she still fondly remembered at times, but ones not meant to last due to vast differences in station. It became abundantly obvious, at least right then and there, what it meant to be part of a family with high standing.
— Ginevra adored her older brothers, Harlan and Percival, admiration shining in her eyes, even when they would good naturedly make fun of her or jest around. It meant safety, being watched over by two people hell bent on protecting her. And vexing her, but that was a small price to pay for a family such as theirs.
— As often as she felt the rays of sunlight on her face, she would be inside just as much. Learning about etiquette, embroidery, the ways of court and how to become the proper lady she was intended to be. Though, perhaps, out of all her lessons, horseback riding was her favourite. Ginevra even carried some skill with archery, even if she had an inkling that at times, those who would teach her let her get away with some wins.
— Beyond this, she was also taught plenty when it came to history and all of the houses in Westeros. Her favourite stories, though, were those her governess would read to her before she would go to bed. Stories of love and romance, stories of where matches were made out of true affection as opposed to mere political advantages. She would close her eyes and dream of such things at night, though her handsome prince remained a faceless fantasy.
— When she was but two and ten, war was upon the lands. As dragons danced in the sky, Ginny feared that the darkness, that the gore and bloodshed would never cease. Her father, Arthur Templeton perished in the fighting. Her mother was still left to care for the family, for Ginny and her older brothers and younger sibling as well. But when she looked at her lady mother now, suffering through this profound loss, she was met with a different woman than the one who had raised her until then. Harsher words, stricter expectations. And Ginevra, not even a woman grown, scrambled to live up to the expectations. The Templeton name would carry on a legacy of greatness in all its children. Proper. Perfect. The very picture of grace. The loss of a father and the mother she had known rattled something within Ginevra. Naïveté turned to calculation, overly gentle manner hardened into something that wouldn’t be so easily squashed by more power than she could dream of holding. She held onto her kindness with desperation, however. Gentleness was hard to come by in the aftermath of all this carnage. The little vestiges of what her life had once been and what it still could be, if she wished for it enough.
— During the year 131 AC, Norbert Grafton came to live and recover at Ninestars for a time after breaking both his legs in the war effort. Ginevra, four and ten at the time, found great comfort in his presence following her father’s death in the same year.
— A fresh faced twenty, another loss wracked the Templeton family, when the Lady Enide Elesham passed on one day. Ginevra sat at her mother’s bedside, hours still after she’d been gone, holding onto cold fingers that would never give back a comforting squeeze or a helping gesture. Much of Ginny’s later years had been spent on trying to make her mother proud of the woman she was growing into. Of what she could aid the family in becoming. She would never quite achieve certainty whether or not she had secured her mother’s satisfaction.
— Carefully constructed perfection began to crumble one particular night. The lady Brianna and Ginevra had gotten exceptionally close over time, comfortable in one another’s presence, deep trust found beneath the two women. They ran in the same circles, part of the same group of friends, of ladies all exceptional in their very own right. Ginny was closest to Minthara, Brianna and Fiona. Brianna, though, took up a very different place in Ginny’s heart. And then one night, sleepless and spent drinking with a friend, letting down a guard that was barely up with her friend in any case, conversations and laughter culminated into a kiss. A tender moment, a line crossed without consideration for the consequences. Nothing after that was ever the same.
— Ginny mourned the loss of the friendship that would never be the same, as well blossoming feelings that she had to squish underneath the toe of a heeled boot. Quite suddenly, her worth in this world moved into focus. Members of the Templeton family earned their titles, earned their respects. Perhaps her goal in this world was not to achieve love, but a legacy.
— She grew more and more into her ambition, like she had one of her mother’s dresses she’d always had her eye on. And slowly but surely, it fit like it was made for her. In the face of Domeric Stone becoming the Hand of the Queen, she yearned to progress her family’s position. Titles were earned, respect was earned. Love was earned too, yet this began to seem far more out of reach than any form of wealth ever could. Yet, she still tried. Making connections, conversations, friends and acquaintances. And as her ambition grew, Ginevra turned to the faith of the Seven for a sense of stability. She had not grown up very religious at all, and yet she wondered if the gods had answers for why her life had turned out the way it did. And for how it would continue to go.
— There were various talks of betrothals, potential contenders for her hand. Ginevra continued to urge her brother to think carefully of the sort of match he made for her. As the eldest daughter, she knew what an advantageous match could mean for her family, their standing and their reputation. Percy was just as aware of it.
