REAPER.

high king of the iron isles.  bless him with salt, bless him with stone, bless him with steel.

[drcwncd]

*   I.   / ELEYNA DURRANDON. ( @stormqueened )

❝ I was once told the story of Storm’s End. Some trite story about a forbidden love. The first Storm king married the daughter of sea and wind despite being warmed not to. To which the gods of sea and win then replied by hammering his kingdom with massive storms.  I can’t help but wonder if the same god who plagues this kingdom with weather is the same that plucks Ironmen in their endeavors. ❞

[drcwncd]

*   I.   /   GWYN GREYJOY   ( @gwyngreyjcy​ )

It was a miserable veil of misty rain that fell upon the island; the sort that sank deep into furs. Gold tendrils of hair clung to Gwyn’s cheeks as she watched the final dregs of her crew disband, most eager to return to those they had not seen in an age. Those she had picked up along the way had already sought shelter in the nearest tavern, keen to keep out of the ice-cold winds that cut through the various masts that lined the harbour. Jumping lithely down onto the wooden walkboards, she called back up to the lone figure who remained on deck of the Black Wind, “Keep her safe for me, Xholhor.“ 

Her first mate’s response was a loyal nod, but it was missed by Gwyn. Her attention wavered, caught by something unseen. Something old and deep and silent, like the mournful calls of the great beats which dwelt below churning waves. Blue eyes moved blindly over those around them, ignoring soggy saltwives and sea-bound Ironborn. She strode surefootedly through the crowded dockside until finding what she was looking for. Who she was looking for. Not even four years could cloud her memory of him. There were telltales signs of time passed – his hair was longer, there were new dark shapes of skin-deep ink she had not yet seen, the silvery gleam of a faint scar that hadn’t been there before – but Andrik was still very much the same man she had left behind. Her pace fastened as she grew nearer, rushing to throw her arms around him in a long awaited embrace. 

Of all the questions he had for there weren’t any he could bring himself to ask.  He hadn’t written to her in months, suddenly they prepared for winter and it was more often that he left Dalton in change of the Isles than actually governing the place he claimed kingship to. There was little time. He excused himself often but  knew he only feared confirmation of the suspicions he harbored, that at times were simply baseless. Still, his sister  was never too far from his thoughts. Crossing his mind at least once a day if not more. If he wasn’t worried about where she was or whether she laid in a beach somewhere with a spear through her neck. He felts abrupt twinges of suddenness and wonder if it she who caused them with wet eyes oceans away or If she had felt his joy as he pressed his hand onto the belly of his wife. Two strangers who were truly far from strange to one another. Still he found it hard to believe before him was his own flesh and blood. People like Andrik and Gwyn had never been fashioned to live long and all the more was the surprise that she returned intact. Her two hands, both her legs and as far as he could tell all her finger. Nonetheless he relished in the surprise. clutching his sister as they held another. 

When he pulled away his hands remained coiled around her arms. ❝ Look at you, what are you doing here? ❞

[drcwncd]

*   I.   /   RAGNA REDWYNE GREYJOY

His lips tasted of salt and smoke. Bitter and consuming all in one motion. Much like the man himself. His lips fit against her like a matching puzzle piece, and her insides churned like the waves outside. The hairs on his chin brushed against rose colored cheeks, and for a moment she let herself get lost. Forget what they were to one another most of the time. Awkward lovers that bickered more than they kissed. Her bed empty most nights, fingers tracing the indents where he would lay beside her only when a child became the subject of conversation. Only in those moments did she curse herself for wanting him. For imagining his face buried in the crook of her neck, their bodies intertwined until well past dawn. Would it be so awful to love her as she wanted? She had come to learn that his love was selfish, taking more than it gave. And while it should have left her angry or slighted, Ragna couldn’t bring herself to feel either. It will be enough to have been loved by you at all. Even if you hold my heart long before I will ever hold yours. 

She found herself lost in his gaze the moment their lips parted. A visible sigh leaving her lips. He was correct in his assumption. She would not spoil their night. If anything she hoped to do the opposite. Without warning her palm wrapped around his wrist. Gently she tugged it forward until his hand was pressed against her lower abdomen. The evident swell of her stomach concealed by the seams Ragna’s ladies had taken out of her dress. Blue eyes fell to her middle, the words that hung on her lips for weeks finally running free.

“I am with child.”

Andrik had never been a father to any of his children. He sired his first son at age fifteen, little more than a child himself. His mother died soon after bringing him into the world, and she had almost taken him with her too. No heavier than goblet of ale, his far in between, ragged like the creek of a chair. His skin was purple and blue, yet through his skin you could still see the blood running through his veins. But he lived. The little time they had together they spent naming him. Veron, after his father but is wasn’t as if she had much say in the matter. He thought he loved the woman, the boy’s mother, as men tend to do at that age but how quickly he forgot of her when he found himself insider her sister. He held affection for his eldest, the only one he came to know by more than name. He gives him his name, a Greyjoy but he spent his childhood calling his namesake “father”. Now a man of seventeen, he lays claims to more wives than his own father ever did. A strong oarsman and now finally a captain. They see one another from time to time, in passing but knows him only as his king, the son of the man who raised him and forgets just as easily as Andrik forgot him, his mother and all the children he never had the chance to call his family.  As heavy-browed as she was, it was her lips that stole the air from his mouth. He had allowed her to guide his wrist and still he could feel the sting of her touch as she brought him to her belly. The tips of his finger lined the small bump, almost as if he had been too afraid to touch it. In her womb grew his only true heir. The most precious of treasures.  He refrained from touching her again, yet wanted nothing more than to feel the honeyed warmth that brewed between her dress .   ❛         A child ?      ❜    He asked. 

[drcwncd]

*   I.   /   GWYN GREYJOY   ( @gwyngreyjcy​ )

In the wake of the storm that rocked the isle, he found in Lordsport nothing but unrest. Boys turned to men overnight and suddenly no hand went without a rope, axe or oar. All while maids whispered of the impending winter. How cold the island became so suddenly. If only the storm god had decided to pluck them sooner, he cursed under his breath. Beads of rain dotted on his lids and silently he wondered how it was, that it didn’t turn to to snow before grazing his skin. Perhaps that  had been the drowned god smiling on them.

A voice he could pick from a crowd, a laugh he would remember even in his watery grave. The sound pierced his ear just as easily as an axe went through bone. The warm feeling of blood gushing down his skin followed too. As if in his chest he was able to understand long before his eyes could.

[thesunderwars-rp]

Welcome to Honesty Hour !

Every Monday is honesty hour for the entire duration of the day. Please reblog this if you’d like members to send you questions on or off anon. No hate will be tolerated. Please try to answer everything in your inbox, and have fun.

( The main will typically post this at 12am. EST every Monday )

[drcwncd]

[drcwncd]

dacresopenshirt:

“i miss my sister like the sea would miss salt if that were taken away.”

— Andrik plagiarizing Emma Cameron, Cinnamon Rain   (via jcmieschung)

[drcwncd]

This is my unofficial/official STARTER CALL for Andrik mother fucking Greyjoy. I have like .5 of a thread going on right now and I need to put my boy to use before I do anything else. Mash that mf like buton on this post and I’ll most likely drop you a one liner but if we talk about it I can deffo make you a real starter. Here’s a pic of my boy in all his glory.

[drcwncd]

do you have any headcanons for the youngest greyjoy? i was thinking of applying for him and didn't want to stray from what you've thought him as.

okay so if you hear a loud noise it’s actually me dying in the back but okay anyways.

I unofficially named him Robyn because I needed to call him something in my threads and “youngest brother” was just getting redundant but you can totally rename him and i wouldn’t mind one bit. On the upside tho if you do decide to name him Robyn, Andrik is only ever going to call him “little robyn”.

With him being the youngest I could see this going one of two ways. ONE where he’s very separated from all his other brothers -- whose entire lives revolve on being iron born and proving that to other people and each other ( but mostly each other ) . So a free think / political mind vs someone you take on raids and that could either frustrate him or he can just roll his eyes when andrik is sitting there picking his nails with a knife.

OR he’s very much taken after his siblings in the way that he’s a little smol bean who just goes with the flow and does what everyone else does. So he raids/captains his own ship and is like really extra about it  ( don’t come for me but kinda like hvitserk before season 5 lmao )  like there might be some friction between him and torwyn who is the second youngest but not between him and dalton or andrik who are the eldest 

There are other ways this can go and i’m totally open to whatever, I think the only think i’m really set on is Andrik and him not really having any beef bc .. Andrik looks at him with all the heart eyes BC BABY BROTHER.

ALSOOOOO here’s a thing I made about the greyjoy gang and feel totally free to come @ me in my IMs bc I really wanna talk about this.

[drcwncd]

*   I.   /   RAGNA REDWYNE GREYJOY

“I…I have missed you too.” Her voice shook with hesitance. How quickly they had gone from strangers to husband and wife. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to get lost in the ocean of his eyes just yet. Not when she was still an outsider that couldn’t part from the house that turned its back on her the moment she became a Greyjoy. Sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the harsh gray tones and brutish men that filled the isles. It was easy to forget that though, even for a moment. With her weight on his lap, she thought of the warmth that would accompany her if she leaned into his chest. Settling instead for tugging against the ends of his shirtsleeve. Ragna’s bright eyes clouded with thoughts of what they could have been if both were a little less stubborn. 

The next statement slipped from her lips before she could blink. “I need to tell you something.” Ragna had been mulling over it for weeks. A decision that felt simple in hindsight became more muddled the moment it was real. Her attachment to what she didn’t quite understand yet greater than the doubts of her past. Moons went by where she refused the moon tea her ladies brought her. All she had to do was take a sip, and it would have been over–just like that. But something kept her from committing such an act. Something she wouldn’t fully recognize until it stared her in the face many moons from now. She wanted to tell him when the time was right. A moment where they both held clear heads and were out of reach of curious ears. But he was a king, a busy one at that. Finding time alone was a feat in itself. Let alone a time when a mug of ale wasn’t in his grasp. 

“You are tired from your journeys, and I do not wish to bring you more stress. I can wait for another time, if you’d like?”

If his wife hated him truly then she had gotten much better at hiding the fact. The cheeks that glowed crimson were accompanied by a smile. One he believed was genuine. Ragna had never a girl of duplicity or even guile, much more content with following the grain rather then going against it. A smart girl. 

He was able to feel guilty for resenting her at times. He hated her father for even suggesting the match. For making a king bend his will. What was he ever to go with a girl for a wife? He despised her sister in a way he didn’t know he could. The great cunt of the Arbor.  A frigid woman with a penchant for making his life difficult. Too often her presence was enough to remind him of them both. Somehow in spite of that he sat with her weight on his lap. a grown man falling in love for the first time. The moon falling in love with the sun or winter falling in love with summer. Something just was harrowing

In the warm light of a  single candle, he could see her so plainly and what he couldn’t, he imagined.  Unblemished beauty and aroma of daisies. He begrudgingly loved her cascading hair that just happened to be red. Red like fire. Red like blood. His lips moved to press against her with all the tenderness a drunk man could offer. But as he pulled way he soaked in her very sight like all the gold in the world.

❝ What could you possibly say to me that would turn the night sour.  ❞  

[drcwncd]

4 hottest girls

SEND A QUESTION FOR HONESTY HOUR.

❝  My wife of course, there is a reason she is my wife. Myria Harlaw can be rather attractive when she isn’t talking. I also hear odd tales of the Stormqueen’s beauty and charm but who truly knows… i’ve yet to test those waters. ❞   ( @rxgnas / @myriaharlaw / @stormqueened )

[drcwncd]

Do you want a real rock wife?

SEND A QUESTION FOR HONESTMEME MONDAY.

❝  I have a true wife. ❞

[thesunderwars-rp]

Welcome to Honesty Hour!!

Every Monday is honesty hour for the entire duration of the day. Please reblog this if you’d like members to send you questions on or off anon. No hate will be tolerated. Please try to answer everything in your inbox, and have fun.

(The main will typically post this at 12am. EST every Monday)

[roleplayers-ink]

Send 🌺 to hear what my muse likes about yours

[drcwncd]

chxndiniron:

The lies that were so easily told in every other occasion now froze on her lips. Her heart skipping a beat before becoming a hammer in her chest. So hard she had no doubt the king could hear it with his own ears. How easily he uncovered her lie made her feel terrified for the first time in ages. Her immediate reaction to back away, flee from danger, but hitting her back against a wall only a few steps backward. Mercilessly trapped like a little mouse, staring right in the eyes of death. “Stygg Hake.” she gasped, before putting a hand over her mouth. For years, his name had not left her lips and to resort to him when all else was lost came even to her own surprise. Yet, it was no lie. She had belonged to him, for years and years. If the man could ever do any good, even if it was in his grave, now would be the time. - But to tell the truth, even if it was only half, proved much harder than expected after her last years had been a web spun of lies. It proved as she tried to  speak, chocking on almost every single word. “He claimed me when I was twelve, before he made me his wife when I was sixteen. He… Stygg died, past in his sleep, and I… I ran. I ran away right after his other wife discovered him.” she trembled. “This is the truth and nothing but the truth. I was weak to lie, especially to you my Lord Greyjoy, but I know what my punishment shall be for this crime… I was not ready to die.”

For a second his lips followed the words that came spilling out of her mouth. Trying to run them through his own, trying to make sense of them. Salt wives were merely a compromise between him and the lords of the Iron Isles. He enjoyed all of  what the tradition had offered. Hard toil whether in mines or fields had never been the way. Hands calloused by rope and not shovels or barrels; that is how iron men were meant to live.  Turning men into thralls was no skin off his bones but when it came to women. There was a certain revulsion that came with laying with someone that other wise would not touch you. Before Ragna, his wives were just whores and common women who he had taken a liking to. A different story for every girl but they had all been married to him willingly and none had met him under circumstances relating to raids.  Even then he still looked other way.  ❝ Quiet now, there’s not need for all of that. I didn’t come here to spend my time playing executioner.I find no joy in killing you or much less, the effort it’ll take you to bring you back to Hakke’s heir. You mistake me for someone much more generous than I could ever be.   ❞ He did his best to mask the discomfort brought upon by her story and the freight that rattled her tongue. He could find no fault in her, but much closer than he would have liked to feel.

[drcwncd]

*   I.   /   MYRIA HARLAW

She finally saw what she was looking for, for Andrik Greyjoy to take her as threat and treat her seriously. It was a dangerous game and in her mind, she knew she would lose but in her heart, she felt satisfaction in knowing the game was even there in the first place.

“Than so be it. Your ships will not be touched.” She answered, letting him know that she was no longer going to test his anger. His mention of the Lannister’s and the Hoare’s did make her pause though, seeing that her habit of getting involved in matters outside of the Iron Island’s was being watched.  “I only wished to advise you, my lord. Nothing more. I care not for the Lannister’s or their allies.” She quickly answered.

Than she picked up that the threat was her sign to leave so she bowed her head. “I shall take my leave than, my lord. Unless you have something else you wish to speak of?” 

❝ Is that true? You have little interest in the main land then? You could have easily had me  believe otherwise. ❞ A teasing grin spread across his mouth waiting for what quip Myria would come up with.

❝ Your journey here has actually saved me a trip to Harlaw. I need someone with your name to sit my council that could either be you or you kin from Grey Garden. ❞ It of course did matter. ❝ but in truth  It makes no difference to me. ❞

❝There is one more thing I would like to make abundantly clear. Should you ever wish to raise threats against me again. I already have plans for what I should do with your holdings. I surely think I would make good use of Harlaw Hall. My brother would not mind a bigger seat, I hope.    ❞

[drcwncd]

*   I.   /   MELIJAH

“A honorable man related to the House of Sparr, your majesty. He says a wife from salt, and not from rock, should be able to do chores around the house. If the God blesses us with a newborn, there will be much washing to do” She replied, only repeating words she had ever picked up upon the streets. Like a mockingjay bird she say a desirable song, one of obedience and submit, while deep inside a fire burned. She had learned the song the Ironborn wished to hear, how they liked the heads of the outlanders to be bowed down and surrender. Yet she feared tht the king was perhaps not such a fool as the men on the ships. 

Mel froze on the spot as he stalked closer to her, eyes like pale ice resting upon her face and feeling her smaller than she had felt before in an ironborn’s pressence. Only her husband, after years of ‘training’ managed to draw a reaction close to it. Her heart raced but she kept the expression on her features composed and distant. “In another life I was a child of the North, lord Greyjoy, but that past is grey and faded. For a long time now, I have belonged to the iron isles. - My name is Melijah, Melijah White.”

Not long enough. Not so much so that he could have missed the slight change of accent. The way words fells from her mouth, and letters from her tongue.  For someone as distrusting as the King, he found it difficult to even believe the woman’s name.  ❝ Honorable is he? ❞ Andrik chuckled at the thought. As much the Reach would have you believe otherwise... Honor was subjective. Yet even then no one could speak of honor and the ironborn in the same light. As frightened as the woman appeared he had no qualms in making her squirm.  ❝  You are no wife of Lord Sparr. He’s a bannerman to my mother’s House of Goodbrother and a boy of ten. If you have enough sense to lie to me then at the very least have the commitment to a better lie. Melijah, if you have ever known kindness in  your life, surely you would see this to be one... I’ll ask only once more. To whom do you belong to? Who would claim you? ❞