king's landing was easily one of the worst cities in westeros, yet demir held a soft spot for it. horrible, yes, but it had its charm. he needed to get away from the red keep, even if just for the night, breathe in some fresh air. it was quite late late into the night, that much he could tell from the moon's position on the night sky. there were his secret favourite spots, away from the crown and usual liveliness of a big city. martell bastard was on edge, though, typical for his defensiveness and hostility coming to surface when he heard footsteps behind him approaching. "who goes there?" a hand reaches for his dagger, almost instinctively.
youngest targaryen princess had upset the queen recently. under her septa's watchful gaze, she attended the sept of baelor for a prayer - anything to please mother and keep being on her good graces. unbeknownst to most, she had prayed before, attempted, with all her might, but the gods had disappointed her, turning viserra a little more cynical than usual. she heard the gates of the sept open and footsteps approach. " the gods don't listen. not really. do they? " she began blowing out the candles. " if they do listen, then they must be cruel. "
heart about to explode beneath chest, she reaches for a dagger carefully hidden beneath silk dress. a familiar face reveals itself, though, and she lets a sigh of relief, before other emotions come to surface. once a dear friend, now sharra wasn't quite sure what to think of the martell. in fact, it was best they continued to avoid each other. liquor courage, the greyjoy decided, despite having some of her own, she still felt like the wiser one, like she had always been when it came to these two. " you stink of ale " a cold remark leaves her lips as she walks past him, right to her chambers.
hand reaches to grab her wrist instinctively; he realizes an action too brash, his grip too tight, so he takes a step back. " i'm sorry. " there was too much going on, but martell bastard had taken a risk. greyjoy had already stomped on his heart once and there he was, giving her a chance to do it again. she could never love him, that much he'd come to terms with - but despite it all, he missed his friend, what they used to have before he'd ruined it all. " i might have had too much to drink, but so has every noble in this castle. i still have my senses. " martell bastard assured her. he was being vulnerable; something he'd do often with sharra but under current circumstances, it made him feel like burning. " is there.. any chance.. " he tries to find the words, but demir had never been good with them. hands reach to rub his temples and he lets out a frustrated sigh. " i miss you, okay? i fucking miss you. i only have you. "
it was late into the night, the guests had began to leave the red keep and retreat to their chambers or opt out to explore the city, whatever suited their tastes. feast spoiled by tragedy, it was evident the mood had changed drastically. to deal with it, demir indulged in more dornish red, mixed with ale on top of all than one could handle properly. his mind took him to places it shouldn't, his feet moving on their own accord, taking him to greyjoy's chambers. she wasn't there. should he feel relief? that it was a stupid decision and he could leave now? but he didn't. he stayed instead, a sense of nervousness worse than the one before combat overtaking him. lord martell had no idea how much time had passed, but there she was at last, emerging out of the shadows, and so did he. " where were you? " he blurts out, cold demeanor back, but it is easily cracked.
"it would do you well to at least pretend you're saddened by recent events." words are discreetly spoken in high valyrian to older brother, as violet eyes twinke and she cannot help but let amused smile emerge despite princess giving her best attempts at keeping composure and a respectful act going. they were away from mother's watchful gaze, but one never knew with queen rhaena. "how foolish of them, though. to think they could claim a dragon."
he observes familiar face for a bit, lady of braavos perhaps getting courted by an older lord; demir cannot overhear. only when the horizon is clear does he approach her, a sense of familiarity he doesn't possess with most allowing him to be more carefree. "poor lord." the martell remarks, watching the other walk away. "does he know you're cursed, lady helaena?"
𓏲ּ ֶָ 𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗 ⁝ milly alcock, 25, cis woman, she&her. announcing the arrival of VISERRA of house TARGARYEN, the PRINCESS of WESTEROS. whispers among the court name them to be both SPIRITED and IMPULSIVE in disposition, and those closest to them speak to their interests in dancing. if we bards could compose a song for them, it might tell stories of whispers and laughter across the hall, sparks from a fire dancing in the air, messy braids coming undone, the chaos of a lively city, secrets held close to one's heart. the seven whisper to their most devout queen as she sleeps, making her question where their loyalties truly lie. are they right to whisper? for their loyalties truly lie with THE TARGARYENS.
the youngest of queen rhaena's children and one of her most difficult pregnancies, viserra was the seventh child, born on the seventh day of the month, the event drenched in religious symbolism. some of viserra's first memories are in the sept of baelor or at the red keep, with the septa doting over her, making her recite the same passage from the seven-pointed star over and over again until she had memorized it. oh, how she hated it. viserra would learn the importance of putting up a good front when her septa caught her burning one of the pages of the books and reported it to the queen. something had changed that day, and although queen rhaena never said it out loud, she never quite looked at youngest daughter the same. there is something deeply wrong with you.
the worst thing princess viserra can be, in her own opinion, is bored. life is one big feast for her and she always seeking stimulation and the next best thing to keep her attention. she holds little interest in politics and her days of serving as a cupbearer for the small council were always dreadful. affable and gregarious, she is easy to get along with, but it is not easy to keep her attention or get her to consider your feelings or well-being, for she is selfish at her core, even if it is unintenionally at times. most of the time she has no ill intentions.
V . WANTED CONNECTIONS
childhood friends: people she's known her entire life or met when she was a kid, what she'd call her best friends, the people who know her best.
friends : wide variety of people she's befriended.
enemies: queen of unintentionally making enemies bc she's inconsiderate af towards others
partner in crime
</3 : that one first love that ended up badly / very messily and they now hate each other
࣪𓏲ּ ֶָ 𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗 ⁝ alperen duymaz, 32, cis man, he/him. announcing the arrival of DEMIR of house MARTELL, the LORD of DORNE. whispers among the court name them to be both INCISIVE and RUTHLESS in disposition, and those closest to them speak to their interests in history. if we bards could compose a song for them, it might tell stories of clashing of swords, distant sounds of combat, dark hues always observing, clenched fists, a tongue as sharp as his blade, you weren't born with all this horror. the seven whisper to their most devout queen as she sleeps, making her question where their loyalties truly lie. are they right to whisper? for their loyalties truly lie with THE MARTELLS.
I . DOSSIER
full name : demir martell .
nicknames: none he likes .
date of birth: tenth day of the eleventh month .
languages spoken: common tongue, bit of low valyrian .
place of birth: sunspear, dorne .
sexuality: bisexual .
II . FAMILY BASICS
parents: prince doran martell, 68 & lady lyndia tba
in dorne, bastards are born of passion and love, people said. demir never quite felt like it, though, his mere existance alienating him, leaving him to search for a place to belong to, for a home. even when granted with his father's name, now a martell and a lord, at the time it made demir feel only worse, as if a pretender.
dorne holds its breath for an upcoming succession crisis & demir wants no part of it. he loves his siblings; he may not show it properly, but he truly does, more than he could ever love his prince father. fiercely loyal and protective, yet always yearning for freedom and in contradiction, a place only his, a place to belong to. demir would rarely spend time in sunspear, travelling from oldtown to the wall, to myr and braavos; finding companions amongst knights, sellswords, companies, sailors and whores. he'd seen it all, the ugliest parts of life and all the treasures it had to offer.
defiant, a ruthless fighter with a fiery temper, demir is as mistrustful as they come. his father would once compare him to a guard dog jokingly, though he wouldn't be far off from the truth.
V . WANTED CONNECTIONS
friend(s): he's a bit intense and doesn't make friends easily, but those are the ppl who would've cracked through his hard exterior <3
past flings: nothing too serious, he likes to keep emotional distance. also scared shitless of fathering a bastard ala jon snow.
enemies: he's travelled a lot, gotten in tons of shenanigans. lots of fun reasons our muses could hate each other
failed betrothal: only once did prince doran attempt to find his son a betrothed - he had good intentions, thought it would help him "settle down" a bit. demir did everything in his power to ruin it. things ended very messily but prince doran got the message.
someone who squired for demir some time ago and travelled with him for a bit. little sibling energy.
