ginevra màiri templeton;

i killed a plant once because i gave it too much water. lord, i worry that love is violence.

[dctyandhonor]

♛ → 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. 

[dailybuccaneers]

The Buccaneers  — 1.01 x 1.08

[mintharaestermont]

@briannabrackens @ofwrittenwhispers @dctyandhonor

[domericstone]

who: @dctyandhonor what: domeric stone is in search of a new wife and he sets his sights on the sister of his mortal enemy. one of them.

The hall was warm, filled with the glow of lanterns and the rich hum of conversation, the air thick with the scent of roast meats and wine. Lord Domeric Stone stood at the edge of the grand feast, his tall frame draped in black from head to toe. His cloak, embroidered with the subtle silver outline of greens snakes coiled around a tower, hung heavy on his shoulders. Beneath the cloak, his tunic and trousers were simple yet elegant, designed to make him stand out without drawing too much attention. His attire, like his demeanor, was dark, and unyielding.

His sharp gaze swept the room, pausing on the figure of Lady Ginevra Templeton, standing near a cluster of noblewomen. She was as striking as the rumors suggested—her beauty hard to ignore, but it was her composed nature that made Domeric’s eyes linger a moment longer.

She was a Templeton, of course, and that came with its own set of complications and possible victories. Her brother, Percy, was an enemy and would remain one. Domeric now stood above the knight and soon, he hoped to have the lords sister as well.

With deliberate steps, he approached her, the murmur of the crowd fading as he closed the distance. His eyes remained focused, unwavering, as if he already knew her answer to the questions that spun in his mind. The ones he hadn’t yet spoken aloud.

"Lady Templeton," he began, his voice low and deliberate, every word weighed. His accent had a roughness to it, the northern cadence of a man used to the cold wind and hard land, but tempered with a certain smoothness that spoke of years spent among the highborn. "The evening seems to suit ye. There’s much to be said for the calm before the storm, aye?" He allowed the question to hang in the air between them, his gaze still fixed on her, an unreadable expression playing across his face. A careful distance between them—but that would change soon enough.

[dctyandhonor]

Ginevra felt the shift in the room before she heard the low rumble of his voice, the subtle hush that descended as Lord Domeric Stone approached. It wasn’t his words that unsettled her - she was used to playing the game of polite conversation - but the way he could so effortlessly disrupt the flow of a gathering, as though the entire room bent to his will.

She kept her expression neutral, a soft smile curving her lips as she gave him the respect his title demanded. “Lord Domeric,” she replied smoothly, her voice cool but measured. “The evening suits me well enough, though I suspect storms are always lurking in corners such as this.”

Her eyes met his with quiet confidence, not one to be easily unsettled. He was a man who had risen through ambition, a man who commanded attention. And yet, there was something about him that made Ginevra uneasy. Perhaps the way he carried himself, as if he was always looking for something more.

“Do you often find yourself seeking the calm before such storms, my lord?” she asked, her voice laced with the slightest edge, the question more pointed than it appeared.

[paradoxofpresence]

setting: the vale, after the kingdom's have return from the west, the ladies of queen ravella are gathered in the queen's solars, as they so often are.

context: ginny and lillith have developed a sort of rivalry with one another, with clashing personalities and differing views on life in court ; @dctyandhonor

the lady of ironoak's needle moved with careful precision through the soft fabric, the repetitive motion easing the unease that always accompanied her in these rooms of idle chatter. the queen’s solar, bathed in gentle sunlight, was filled with the soft rustling of ladies working at their tasks. one of the women, a young lady from a minor house in the vale, sat across from lillith, embroidering a simple pattern, while another hummed a tune off-key as she worked on a piece of lace. the soft sound of fabric moving, punctuated by the occasional laugh or whispered exchange, made the air feel dense with polite disinterest.

lillith's gaze flicked briefly to the others, noting the casual way they held their work and whispered. a woman from a well-known house in the vale leaned toward her neighbor, her voice hushed but still audible. "did you attend the king in the north's winter ball?" she asked, her eyes shifting toward the others, ensuring no one could overhear. "it is such a shame, about our dear princess rosa."

mismatched eyes flickered up in interest at the conversation, but only due to a friendship she had developed with the stark princess. after a moment, she went back to concentrating on her needlework, the rhythmic pull of thread through fabric steadying her nerves. but as she worked, the needle slipped awkwardly through the cloth, and without warning, it pricked the pad of her finger. a sharp, involuntary gasp escaped her lips, and she pulled her hand back, blinking at the sudden sting.

cheeks flushed lightly, not out of embarrassment, but annoyance, and, when she looked up again, she hoped few had noticed.

[dctyandhonor]

Ginevra’s eyes flicked to Lillith as the needle glided effortlessly through the fabric, her hands moving with a precision that unsettled her. The room hummed with soft chatter, the air thick with polite disinterest, but Ginevra could not shake the feeling that the lady of Ironoak’s Needle held some quiet authority over it all, even in such trivial moments. Even when she pricked her finger on the sharp tip. Even when she winced, a glimmer of imperfection on her stoic expression. "Careful," she commented, almost disinterested, "you would not want to ruin the needlework."

After a beat of silence, Ginevra’s voice broke the stillness, colder than she intended. “I’ve often wondered, Lady Lillith, how it is you remain so… composed in these rooms.”

Her gaze remained steady, studying Lillith’s focused expression, eyes narrowed slightly as if she were attempting to unravel some carefully constructed mystery. “Is idle talk a skill you have mastered?” The words came out clipped, sharper than intended, but there was no turning back once they were said. Ginevra didn’t wait for an answer, instead letting the tension hang in the air like a veil.

[gael-hightower]

Gael then turned his gaze from the view to study her for a moment, the faintest flicker of curiosity in his clear eyes. Ginevra Templeton carried herself with the kind of poise and grace the people of the Vale were known for, yet her tone contrasted with that. She sounded earnest, unpretentious. “Soothing to the mind,” he repeated, a subtle nod accompanying his words. His lips curved slightly, for the Master of the Arts had inevitably thought of what this sort of scenery might inspire him to write.

“Do you often find yourself in need of the solace of nature, my lady?” he asked out of curiosity. He let his attention drift back to the landscape before him as if allowing her the space to answer —or to avoid answering altogether, should she choose. He pondered if places like this one held the same enchantment for those who lived there as they did for those who could only visit. He dismissed Oldtown so casually just a moment ago when the Templeton lady attempted to speak of its wondrous views. Gael did not bore her with his musings, instead facing her again to say “You are one of the few women who chose to join the expedition, my lady. I'll admit I was surprised. Do you hunt? Or did you choose to only grace us with your company in between the moments of the chase?”.

[dctyandhonor]

Ginevra caught the curiosity in Gael Hightower’s gaze, though his words remained measured, thoughtful. She tilted her head slightly, intrigued by the way he seemed to study her in return. His question, so direct yet laced with a quiet interest, stirred something in her; a mix of slight discomfort and a curiosity of her own. Nature was soothing, indeed, but more often than not, her mind found rest in the unpredictability of people, of their motivations, their desires.

“Solace, yes,” she replied after a pause, her voice steady but gentle. “But not in the way you might expect. I find comfort in the way the wind stirs the trees, the rustle of leaves, but it’s the silence between the moments, the stillness, that speaks louder than anything else.” She didn’t look to the landscape as he had done, but instead focused on him, noting the subtle shifts of his expression.

When he asked about the hunt, her lips curved into a smile of her own. “I admit,” she said, her voice teasing, “I find it rather more thrilling to observe than to participate. Though,” she added thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing with intent, “I could be persuaded if the chase promised something… interesting.”

[briannabrackens]

♣️

brianna took the cup ginny offered with a playful smirk, her fingers brushing against hers for a moment longer than necessary, though she did not entirely notice. there was a slight flush rising from the curve of her neck due to their proximity to the hearth. "well, berry," she began, her voice low and teasing as she leaned in, nudging her shoulder against hers playfully "courage or no, whoever it is clearly knows their way with a quill. all those flourishes and curves—it looks like a woman's hand to me. soft, delicate… a bit like yours, really." she tilted her head, studying the parchment again with exaggerated scrutiny, as though trying to divine the author’s identity from the ink itself.

“now, i’m no scholar, but i’ve seen enough letters to know when a man’s had a go at poetry. they’re heavy-handed, all sharp lines and no grace. this, though…” she held it up between them, wagging it slightly. “this has the mark of someone who’s taken their time. someone who sees beauty in the details.” there as a light giggle that slipped from her as she passed the letter back to ginny, not before giving it a kiss with her wine stained lips. taking a long sip of her wine, no doubt more than she needed, brianna leaned back, the light of the fire catching the mischief in her vivid dark eyes.

“but i’ve got to ask, —what would you expect a woman to do instead? march right up to you in the middle of court and declare her undying love? ask your lord father’s permission to court you?” she laughed, the sound rich and full, spilling into the intimate space between them. “imagine the scandal. the poor old septons would faint dead away.” her tone softened, the teasing giving way to something quieter, more introspective. “or maybe she’d just kiss you. would that be courage enough for you? a bold, reckless kiss, right here in your pretty little sitting room?” she looked away then, her fingers tracing the edge of her goblet. the question lingered in the air, unspoken but heavy, as though the words had taken on a weight of their own.

after a moment, she turned back to ginny, her expression caught somewhere between a grin and something more earnest. “whoever wrote this, man or woman, they’ve got it bad for you, berry. and can you blame them?” her voice dropped, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “you’re… you’re worth a thousand of their flowery words. even if they’re too scared to say it to your face.” brianna’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked away, her laugh returning but softer this time, almost nervous as she stretched out beside her friend, almost as though she were breaking some strange spell which twirled over them.

“so,” she added, her voice brighter as she leaned back with a playful shrug, resting on her own elbow, “you gonna keep us all in suspense, or are you going to do something about your secret admirer? perhaps see if the guards would give in to you?”

[dctyandhonor]

Ginny’s heart skipped a beat when Brianna’s fingers brushed against hers, a touch so fleeting yet charged with something Ginny couldn’t quite name. The warmth of their closeness, coupled with the flickering firelight casting soft shadows across Brianna’s face, made the moment feel almost too intimate, as if the air between them was thick with unspoken things. Ginny’s breath caught, her cheeks tinged with a rosy flush she couldn’t deny, especially with the teasing tone Brianna used.

Well, Berry, Brianna murmured, nudging her lightly with her shoulder, courage or no, whoever it is clearly knows their way with a quill. Ginny couldn’t help but glance at Brianna with a quiet sense of intrigue, her pulse quickening as the words struck a chord within her. There was something intoxicating about Brianna’s presence, the way she made even the smallest touch feel like a declaration, a soft suggestion that lingered in the air between them.

Brianna’s gaze lingered on the parchment, her finger tracing the ink as if trying to divine the truth from it. Ginny’s breath stilled at her comment, the idea of a woman writing such intimate words sending a shiver down her spine. The thought of a secret admirer, someone bold enough to send a letter, yet too shy to reveal themselves, had always been an amusing curiosity. But Brianna’s voice made it sound different, as if those very words had some sort of hidden power.

Then Brianna’s question cut through the playful banter, something quieter, more direct. Or maybe she’d just kiss you. Would that be courage enough for you? The words hung in the air, impossibly bold yet whispered as though testing the limits of their unspoken connection. Ginny froze for a moment, her mind racing as the weight of the question settled between them.

Ginny watched, almost mesmerized, as Brianna held up the letter, pointing out the elegant flourishes. She couldn’t deny that the words, the delicate curves of the ink, seemed to speak to something deeper within her. Brianna’s quiet suggestion of a kiss - bold, reckless - caused her breath to hitch, her fingers tightening slightly around her goblet. A kiss. The thought of it, her lips brushing against Brianna’s like her friend's lips brushed against the parchment, made her stomach flutter in ways she couldn’t name.

She met Brianna’s gaze, the question lingering between them, unspoken but heavy in the air. Could she? Would she? Her pulse thundered in her ears, and her lips parted, though no words came. The weight of the moment was almost too much, yet it was also intoxicating.

Ginny’s breath caught, and she turned slightly to face Brianna, the words already escaping her before she fully realized it. “I suppose that would be… bold,” she said, her voice lower than she meant, almost breathless. The way Brianna had framed it made the moment feel charged, as if something unspoken hovered just out of reach, yet it was as if they were already tiptoeing toward it. "You know how to flatter a Lady."

Brianna’s gaze softened then, as if sensing the change in the atmosphere. Ginny couldn’t help but meet her eyes, the brief silence between them full of an unspoken understanding. She cleared her throat, trying to regain some composure, but the flutter in her chest wouldn’t settle. “I don’t know if I’d wait for a letter,” Ginny finally said, her voice soft and playful, though her heart beat faster than she wanted it to. “Maybe I’d see what the guards have to say after all.”

There was a slight pause as they both leaned back, a soft laugh escaping Ginny’s lips as she tried to mask the vulnerability that still lingered beneath the teasing words. What were they playing at? What did it all mean? The secret affection, the stolen glances - it was a game, wasn’t it? But the more Ginny thought about it, the less she was certain she wanted it to remain a game.

[ravellaarryns]

who: @dctyandhonor when and where: the eyrie, upon the return of the the vale court from the westerlands. the queen is in her private apartments, having just returned from the council meeting.

ravella arryn lounged like a dark specter upon her velvet recliner of high-backed silvered wood, the firelight licking her pale skin with flickering shadows. her black hair spilled in a cascade over one shoulder, a night unbroken by stars, framing her sharp, beautiful face. and how beautiful it were, even in such sharpness, and uncanny features. a lack of softness, and yet, she still held and demanded respect before attention.

her icy blue eyes glinted, narrowed as they fixed on the figure of ginevra templeton. the girl had already sung the opening verse twice, yet it was still wrong. so wrong.

“higher,” ravella commanded, her voice a blade dulled only slightly by its whisper-soft delivery. “does ninestars breed only mediocrity now?" her tone did not rise or falter; it stayed steady, even, and utterly devoid of warmth. there were other ladies in the room who continued about their duties in the exact same manner, almost in a strange formulated unison - they seemed to glide, rather than make enough noise for ravella's attention to be captured by them.

but instead, she took enjoyment in watching the lady of ninestars reach for such dizzying heights.

“enough.” she said, her words coiling like smoke, dismissive and damning. she rose from her recliner in a languid movement, every step deliberate as she approached the younger woman. her gown of black silk and intricate silver embroidery etched across her corset whispered across the stone floor. there was something sinister and inhumane in her vision, almost as though she were attempting to see right through the woman.

the queen had not bled her courses, and she were all too aware of the whispering. she wanted the court to know that their queen was fertile, as fertile as that tactless golden whore to the south that called herself the queen of new valyria - that she too would soon deliver on her promise of securing the line of succession. and whilst she were sure she could feel her womb quicken, she took to enjoying fanning the flames of gossip. "get me my red apple." and she watched as the lady of ninestars walked to do so. she were of small build, hair that seemed to change colour when the sun hit upon it.

"are you templetons known to be fertile?" she would happily marry her to rhys. he would do well with her. only once she had made her womb nothing but ash. there must be a way.

[dctyandhonor]

Ginevra felt the weight of the Queen’s gaze settle on her, sharp and unyielding, like the bite of winter frost. Ravella Arryn was a woman of singular power, her presence a thing of beauty and terror, a storm contained in human form. Ginny admired her with an intensity that bordered on reverence. To stand before her was to be measured against a standard few could meet, yet Ginevra would not falter. She knew her place, knew what was at stake. She would earn it, every bit of it.

When Ravella’s cutting remark came, Ginny did not flinch, though her pulse quickened. Does Ninestars breed only mediocrity now? The words stung, not for their truth, but for the reminder of how high the bar was set. Ginny’s chin lifted ever so slightly. If Queen Ravella sought to shape her, she would take the pressure and emerge stronger.

The command for a red apple was an opportunity; a task that could easily have been given to any other lady present, yet it had been handed to her. Ginny moved with purpose, her steps graceful yet unhurried, conscious of the way the Queen’s eyes followed her. When she returned, the apple resting in her hands as if it were a jewel, Ravella’s question came, low and pointed.

Are you Templetons known to be fertile?

Ginny hesitated for only a breath, her expression unreadable save for a flicker of something in her eyes - a challenge, perhaps. “We Templetons are known to be enduring, Your Grace,” she replied smoothly, placing the apple on a silver tray. Her tone was demure, her words careful, yet the edge beneath them was unmistakable. She would not be easily cast aside, not even by a queen.

Ravella’s scrutiny lingered, and Ginny held her ground, unyielding under its weight. Ambition glimmered in her heart, unspoken but fierce.

[percival-templeton]

A light smile crossed his lips. The Templetons had their particular ways of enacting their charm, and Ginevra had grown to develop a mastery for it. She made an art of it, nearly. All could not be only honeyed words and divine smiles, of course, which was why his sister's education had also been rigorous. He would not have an empty-headed lass be the only the blood of Ninestars could offer. The Vale had a formidable queen, and that in itself was a message of what outsiders could expect in their women.

The Knight of Ninestars shook his head, moving to take a seat across from her. He set aside his cloak before he sat down with poise, Percival's movements evoking the pride and gravitas inherent in Valemen. “I haven't singled out a prospect yet. But the lords I've invited are promising matches,” he said, easing any nervousness or anticipation in his sister. “With the time I've spent at the Eyrie, you've begun to get a sense of what it means to rule a keep, Gin,” the lord went on. As Commander of the Vale's Queensguard, Percival travelled often from Ninestars to be with Queen Ravella, never fully letting go of his duties to his home, but gradually granting more responsibilities to his sister. “I purposely relied more on you over the past months. You will be ready when you marry, for I expect that you becoming a ruling lady in your own right”. The message was clear there. For the hunting trip, she ought to focus on ruling lords only, not the second or third brothers that followed.

[dctyandhonor]

Ginny watched as her brother settled into his chair, every movement steeped in quiet authority. Percy had a way of commanding attention without raising his voice. Yet, as much as she respected him, there were moments like these where the expectations he placed upon her felt like an intricate web, and she the spider weaving her future with care and precision.

“Ruling lords,” she repeated, letting the phrase linger as if testing its weight. Her teacup was warm in her hands, her grip relaxed despite the sharp focus in her gaze. “A sensible distinction. No use spending time on men whose futures are already decided for them, or who lack the vision to shape their own.” Her smile was faint but deliberate, mirroring her brother’s unwavering confidence. Ambition ran deep in their veins, a shared trait that tied them as tightly as blood.

She leaned back slightly, her tone light but measured. “I'm well prepared, Percy. I’ll ensure my attention is wisely spent. Though,” she added, a glimmer of amusement flickering across her expression, “I trust the lords you’ve summoned will live up to such rigorous standards. After all, Templetons do not settle for mediocrity.”

Her words carried a subtle blend of respect and wit, a reminder that while she valued his guidance, she was no passive participant in their shared ambitions. Ginny had learned from him, but she was determined to prove she could meet, and perhaps surpass, the mark that was set.

[mountainvroyce]

.

axell royce strode through the courtyard, relishing a rare free day from his duties as lord commander. though not fully armored, he still towered over most who passed him, knights included. his presence alone commanded attention, but he gave none in return, barely sparing a glance at the pages and servants bustling to carry his belongings to his chambers.

he had just lit a roll, bringing it lazily to his lips, when his cousin hurried into the courtyard. he stopped walking and he glanced at her, exhaling a plume of smoke. “i wasn’t aware i needed to keep my baby cousin informed of my every move,” he said, his tone cool and flat. to most, his words might have seemed cutting, but the faint twitch of his mouth betrayed the tease beneath them that only few including ginny would recongize.

unbothered by her presence, he took another drag before casually holding the roll out to her, a silent offer and promise of discretion. the gesture was improper, of course—smoking in front of a lady was hardly befitting of a lord—but axell rarely cared for propriety.

“what’s got you in a tizzy to find me?” he asked, the faintest hint of amusement in his gravelly voice as he studied her.

[dctyandhonor]

Ginny caught the faintest trace of humor in Axell’s tone, her sharp eyes noticing the telltale twitch of his mouth even if others wouldn’t dare assume softness in him. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of asking for every move,” she replied with a delicate shrug, her words laced with an air of mock nonchalance. “Just the important ones. Such as your arrival.” Her tone was measured, but her gaze lingered on him with undeniable warmth, a quiet reassurance that she was not easily cowed by his gruffness.

When he held the roll out to her, her expression didn’t falter, though her eyes briefly flicked to the courtyard’s periphery. No one seemed close enough to notice. She plucked the roll from his fingers, her movements effortless, almost casual. Rolling it between her fingers, she waited a few beats, long enough to appear unaffected, before raising it to her lips for a quick drag, the faintest curl of smoke exhaled as she turned her head away.

“What’s got me in a tizzy?” she echoed, feigning indignation as she returned the roll to him. Her smirk deepened. “Merely excitement to see my favorite cousin. It’s hardly an everyday occurrence, after all.” Her voice softened, though the edge of wit remained. “And perhaps curiosity. You do have a way of keeping people guessing, Axell.”

[rememberences]

♟

graham royce watched the stag bolt through the underbrush, antlers glinting like a crown in the faint drizzle. lord percival —straight-backed, resolute—pushed his steed forward, the very picture of a vale knight. graham allowed a nod of approval. there was no pretense in his pursuit, just earnest skill. the same couldn’t be said for the lady beside him. he saw the lady ginevra tilt her head, her words weaving between amusement and bitterness.

and in the eyes of the king consort, she speaks as though she’s unveiling some hidden wisdom, yet her insights were thin, her understanding shallow. ambition to be involved all without temperance—dangerous, and too common.

“innocence,” graham echoed, his voice steady, his gaze still fixed on the chase. “it’s a word thrown about too easily. blood spilled in war is rarely innocent, my lady, no matter how blameless the players may seem.” he shifted slightly in the saddle, the rain beading on his mail. “a question for permission, you say. as though pride and power could be so easily undone with a polite inquiry. the world you imagine is... uncomplicated.”

he finally turned his head to look at her, his expression neutral, though his eyes held a weight she likely wouldn’t notice. does she hear herself? does she think the court so simple? she courts understanding, but her grasp is shallow.

“your brother rides true,” he said after a pause, his tone softer, measured. “a man of purpose. perhaps the simplicity you speak of lies with those like him—clear in their aims, unclouded by talk of what should have been.” he let the silence linger, then added, almost idly, “the woods at ninestars must be quiet, to leave one so free for musings. perhaps that’s what keeps you from the hunt.”

"did you attend court under the reign of king rowan?"

[dctyandhonor]

Ginevra tilted her head slightly, her lips parting in the softest of smiles, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. There was something about Graham Royce’s tone; cool, distant, that seemed to deflate her usual charm. She knew that men like him, stoic and unmoving, rarely responded to the warmth she tried to infuse into a conversation. But this… this was different. There was an aloofness about him, an air of calculated detachment that irritated her more than she cared to admit.

Her gaze followed his, still watching the stag, her amusement flickering as she replied, “I suppose the world I imagine is just a little too simple for you, Your Grace.” Her voice was smooth, though the edge of challenge slipped through. She considered his words, the weight of them settling uncomfortably between them. Innocence was a fleeting illusion, she knew. But to speak as though it could never exist in such a world... it stung in its finality.

“Perhaps,” she said, her smile returning with a practiced grace, “it’s because I have not been taught to view the world with as much certainty as you do. It is easier to imagine the world as simple when you see everything so clearly.”

Ginevra allowed a brief moment of silence to linger between them, feeling the drizzle soften against her skin. She considered his words carefully, knowing how deftly the King Consort wielded his bluntness. “My brother may ride true, but his path, like yours, is not without its own burdens,” she replied, her voice smooth, but not without a subtle firmness.

She took a slow breath before answering his question, glancing over at him with a trace of curiosity. “I attended court with my brother sometimes, though rarely under King Rowan’s rule. My presence there was fleeting, more of a guest than a participant. It is only in the last few years that I have had more occasion to visit.” She offered him a small, knowing smile. As one of Queen Ravella's ladies, she had much more reason to spend time in the Eyrie now. “I was not as invested in the court’s intrigues then as I am now. But I have certainly heard enough stories to know it was never dull."

[mintharaestermont]

minthara let out a little laugh, one that was equal parts frustration and bitterness. "safe," she muttered. whatever she was in king's landing, it wasn't safe. "you know me, ginny, i can't keep my words in my mouth when i'm in a mood. you really think that's gonna be appreciated in king's landing?" it was not the place for minty, yet it was the place she would be forced to be. "besides, what good will it be being safe if the war goes tits up and i end up being the only one left? just me and selaenna." it was just minty and her youngest sister, the fifteen year old selaenna, heading to the capital. it was a far cry from their previous conversations, hair combs and boys who walked like ducks.

"you've never seen estermont at sunset, have you?" she couldn't recall ginny ever visiting her little island in the sea. "the ocean goes all pink and gold. they don't have that in king's landing. just beggars and a bad smell. and those stupid bells clanging every hour."

her lips pressed together. she didn't want to cry, not in public. "can i come and see you?" she asked, suddenly. "me and selaenna. if it all gets too shit. can we come to ninestars? or we can meet at stone hedge. just... anywhere else but there."

[dctyandhonor]

Ginevra’s heart tightened as she listened to Minthara’s words, the bitterness in her voice cutting through the quiet moment between them. She could see the weight of the war settling on her friend, the same shadow that had cast its gloom over so many others. Ginny’s grip on Minthara’s arm tightened ever so slightly, a silent gesture of solidarity, though the weight of the words felt like a storm brewing.

“King’s Landing isn’t home, no,” Ginny agreed softly, her voice carrying an understanding that only those who had spent their lives rooted in one place could truly comprehend. She gave Minthara a small, comforting smile. “But you, my dear Minty, have always spoken your mind, and I can’t imagine that changing for anyone. King’s Landing may not appreciate your honesty, but they’ll never be able to silence you.”

Ginny glanced out at the market, the crowd moving around them, but her mind lingered with Minty’s words. “If it gets too much, of course, you’ll have a place with me. Ninestars will always have a room for you, Selaenna, and anyone else you need to bring. I can’t promise peace, but you’ll have the freedom to speak your mind.”

She squeezed her friend’s arm again. “As for Estermont at sunset…” Ginny paused, a wistful smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I imagine nothing could compare. I will have to visit you there some time. But the ocean is never far from you, Minty. Even in King’s Landing.”

[zendeyas]

Anya Taylor-Joy as Beth Harmon –The Queen’s Gambit (2020)

[naelysvelaryon]

¿

"yes, you do talk a lot to many different people…" she mused, a sense of quiet innocence to her tone as she looked sideways at her friend in the moonlight. there was no double meaning to her words, it were genuine. "they seem to talk back to you, so it seems they like it well enough." she never once seemed to consider the downside to lady templeton liking to speak, perhaps too much.

was it possible to enjoy talking a little too much? she listened quietly, almost diligently, as she continued to keep her amethyst gaze straight ahead over the path; there was the sound of mud and rushing currents to their side, though the sound of it truly did bring her some sense of strange peace. perhaps because she wondered what the world would sound like from beneath the ripples and the currents.

her nose wrinkled slightly at the words about people; she did not know how to do the things ginny did. she had long since accepted she would not be able to do the things ginny did. "sometimes people ruin the world though." the reality would be most of the time, but naelys had a level of naivety to her still. "these currents glisten this night, do they not? and there was a time they bled onto the banks for the actions of people."

but the lady of ninestars was always seemingly able to slip from social circle to social circle, able to capture a piece of what someone had said and use it as a hook to start speaking. she never sounded as though she were interjecting, yet she never forced naelys to involve herself in such conversations. in all their differences, the valyrian never once considered that perhaps ginny didn't want her to get involved in the conversations. "how do you talk to people you do not know?" she asked, her question showing a vulnerable side to her.

was this the sort of guidance she needed?

[dctyandhonor]

Ginevra’s lips curled into a soft, knowing smile as she listened to Naelys, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. She never failed to find a quiet amusement in the way Naelys spoke, her words laced with that unassuming honesty that Ginny had come to appreciate.

“Do I talk too much?” she mused, her tone light but with a knowing edge. “Perhaps. But it’s a skill, really. It’s not just the talking, but the knowing when to do it and with whom. People are remarkably receptive when you take the time to listen first, and then speak with just the right amount of… charm.” She flashed Naelys a teasing smile, her words carrying a playful ease that seemed effortlessly poised. “It helps, of course, to have a certain finesse when slipping into conversations.”

Her gaze lingered on Naelys as the Valyrian woman continued to observe the path ahead, her quiet, thoughtful nature as distinct as ever. Ginny, ever the observer, caught the vulnerability in her friend’s question, a flicker of doubt hidden beneath the surface. “Talking to strangers is hardly a challenge,” Ginny said with a light laugh. “It’s all about finding the right hook, something they care about, even if it’s something as simple as the weather. People love to talk about themselves, and once you’ve discovered that, well… the rest is simply a matter of timing. I don’t do it because I like hearing myself talk - though I do enjoy that part too - but because people are fascinating. Every little quirk, every little thing they say, it’s like they’re handing you a piece of themselves. All you have to do is listen and ask the right questions.”

At Naelys’ reflection on people’s darker actions, Ginevra’s expression shifted, her elegance not lost even in serious moments. “Ah, yes. People can be… tiresome at times. But there is beauty in their chaos, isn’t there? Just like these currents. They continue to shimmer even after storms have passed. It’s proof that, even in the wake of disaster, something enduring remains.”

Ginny’s smile softened as she stepped closer to her friend, offering a comforting presence. “You don’t have to change, Naelys. Not one bit. But perhaps, if you ever find yourself uncertain of how to speak, you might consider simply being yourself. It works wonders.”

[greengableslover]

EMMA. (2020) dir. Autumn de Wilde

[mintharaestermont]

"my brother's an idiot is what happened," minthara grumbled, then immediately felt guilty for her words. "well... no, it's not really his fault. i suppose you've heard we're probably going to war with the dornish," her face darkened. "the king through a head at their princess or something. i don't know. luc says i have to go and stay in king's landing when we get back. estermont is too close to dorne." any who knew minthara knew how much she loved estermont and greenstone, how the island she had been born on was her favourite place in the world. "what the fuck am i going to do in king's landing? just sit there waiting to hear what's happening. or if it's like the stepstones again." the stepstones, where minthara had lost a father and brother not too long ago, and rarely spoke of.

[dctyandhonor]

Ginevra's expression of confusion turned into one of concern. The rumblings of war unsettled her. It seemed to be all around. Be it between the Dornish and New Valyria, or the Vale and the Westerlands. Unrests were challenging this precarious, haphazardly crafted peace they'd thought themselves safe in after the Dance. "You'll be safest in King's Landing," Ginevra said, trying to sound as sure of it as she would like to. "They will not take the Red Keep with the King's dragon watching over the city." Ginny reached for her friend once more, intertwining their arms. The crowd was dispersing again, now that the fight had been broken up. The cheerful atmosphere from before seemed to be broken, though. At least for the time being, the other attendees of the market went about their business slightly more subdued.

"I doubt you will be bored, King's Landing is a large city." It was undoubtedly large, but it was not home. Had she been in Minty's shoes, she would have been excited at first, to see the bustle and be right in the middle of it. But she would miss home, her family. And knowing they were fighting in a war would drive her insane. It would be learning the news of her father's death all over again. She knew Minthara had experienced something similar, equally devastating. "They want you safe," she tried again, though even to her ears, it did not sound quite as convincing as Ginny would have liked it to be. "They want you as safe as you want them."

[mintharaestermont]

it was a difficult conversation to have, and not one minthara was sure either of them were ready for. she certainly wasn't - though she'd spoken more of her feelings into words than she had with anyone with ginny, there was more to it than simply being sure of herself. king's landing was not a place that encouraged it, and even luc, who did what he could to be one of them, was still on the backfoot, simply because of who they were, where they were from, what they looked like. still, it was not a conversation she wished to have, so instead, minthara smiled. "you're right. thanks, gin. love you too."

the crowd slowed down her approach, and by the time she reached her brother, the fight had been separated by the market guards, before it could become more serious than a few knocked over crates. for a moment, the two siblings bent their heads close together, communicating in urgent whispers before minthara stepped back to ginny's side. "god, things are shit," she grumbled. "can't even spent a day in the market without being reminded of war."

[dctyandhonor]

Ginevra felt this was the end of that conversation, with how the mood had dampened and Minthara's expression seemed a little more forced to her. She would trust that her friend would speak to her when Minty herself felt it was the time. Now was not. So, she merely grabbed Minty's arm a little tighter, in what she hoped was a comforting squeeze.

By the time Ginny reached Minthara, the fight had been disbanded. All men had been separated by guards, serious and grim, a hand on the hilt of their weapons. Ginevra did what came to her as an instinct; a charming smile sent the way of the nearest guard, the one vigilantly watching over where Minty and her brother had their heads bent together. Soothing, smoothing, no wrinkles in the fabric of moods. Ginny waited at the sidelines, a little ahead of the crowds but farther away from the two siblings hashing something out in heated whispers. She kept her eyes on them and on the guard, prepared to smooth over even more things with whatever weapons she herself had at her disposal. There was no doubt Percy would hear of this. It was Ginevra's responsibility to draw no shame to their house by causing a scene.

"What happened?" Ginny asked, confusion drawing her brows together.

[naelysvelaryon]

¿

as much as she found a quiet comfort and a sense of gratitude in the way the lady of ninestars had attempted to make her feel less embarrassed in ruining the very point of this evening, naelys was unable to admit the fact she had not actually managed to write anything on her sunwheel yet. there was a quill and ink pot in the leather pouch she had strung over her shoulder, but she had been waiting to write her thoughts down on the riverbed - and now that was all gone.

she wordlessly swung the leather pouch back in place, beginning to take a few steps forward and looking back for ginny to catch up with her. the lady of ninestars shook her head slightly, and naelys offered nothing but a slight apologetic look, no doubt overthinking the small motion in her own mind. as she tended to make everything in her mind far bigger than it actually was.

ginny seemed to always know how to carry herself, she knew how to navigate matters and often talked herself into every conversation even if she were not in it. more often than not naelys had been on the side of the conversation, there to nod and say hello for when ginny eventually introduced her. that had happened a lot this riverlands festival. they began walking down the riverside path, with nellie reaching down to pick up a candled lantern that was no doubt supposed to stay in place. she would carry it, like a lady with a lamp.

"you know a lot of people, ginny. how?"

[dctyandhonor]

Ginny thought on the unexpected question for a moment. She had never wondered about it before. Her purpose was clear; it came with connections, with knowing people and even some of the gossip that clung like a mist to their very beings. Perhaps especially that. "I like talking," she eventually shrugged, before offering her friend a grin, "Sometimes a little too much. And I enjoy people. In all their little quirks and weirdnesses." It offered great entertainment at times, great interest in others.

In this world they were in, the courts they fit into like puzzle pieces. Everyone had their designated little spot, whether as a hero, a villain, a cunning snake, or a rebellious spirit. Court thrived on those sets of characters. Peace meant nothing without war. War meant nothing without peace. "They paint a drab and dreary world in all sorts of colours, don't you think?"