NOTHING IS SACRED

URSULA LEFFORD nee arryn ❝ all for the game ❞

[gildcdfalcon]

the  courts  offer  bread  and  salt  to  URSULA  LEFFORD  NEE  ARRYN  of  HOUSE  LEFFORD.  many  say  that  the  TWENTY  SIX  year  old  RULING  LADY  of  CASTERLY  ROCK  is  known  to  be  VIVACIOUS  and  TACTILE,  though  ill  tongues  whisper  that  SHE  is  JUDGMENTAL  and  DECEPTIVE.  when  her  name  is  uttered,  one  is  reminded  of  embellished  birds  on  a  gown  of  gold  and  pale  blue  silk,  the  fluttering  of  an  delicate  fan  over  a  deceptive  smile,  the  clinking  of  coin  purse  as  it’s  passed  from  one  hand  to  another.  may  she  be  blessed  and  protected  in  this war  of  crowns. 

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[daeneryskairipa]

[daeneryskairipa]

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westerheir‌.

could  one  blame  him  for  traveling  days  after  his  family  ?  yes  .  but  with  matters  to  attend  to  back  at  casterly  rock  ,  he  sent  his  wife  and  sons  first  .  he  knew  the  new  northern  king  ,  his  friend  ,  would  understand  .  a  few  days  travel  had  led  him  to  the  wintery  escape  ,  to  the  place  that  felt  more  home  than  casterly  rock  did  .  he’d  spared  a  few  moments  for  himself  ,  to  take  in  the  keep  in  silence  ,  standing  on  the  ramparts  above  the  training  yard  ,  crystalline  blues  search  the  pale  expanse as  far  as  he  could  before  he’s  interrupted  .       ❛   i  surmised  it  was  only  a  matter  of  time  before  someone  found  me  .   ❜

                    in ursula’s opinion, the north was not an exciting place & she guessed that her handmaidens were inclined to agree. they’d spent the better part of the morning huddled in the corner beside the fire embroidering & playing music to entertain. that’s why, when her husband arrived in winterfell, ursula knew about it immediately. it had been days since she had seen him & she knew that her young sons missed their father. the lady had left her children in the warmth & found her beloved upon the ramparts. ❛ did you intend to hide from your wife? ❜  she said in response, an amused expression on her rosy features. 

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winterfellglory‌.

“Aye,” he replied, without mincing words or seeming to acknowledge the question that was posed between the lines. Instead, he got up from his stool and moved around her, deeper into the forge. “Just don’t get too close. That way the embers’ll douse by the time they reach far enough.” He went back to the trough and washed his hands a little better. Then, he dripped some water on the back of his neck again, took a dirty rag and dried himself off. His eyes briefly shot her way, before going back to the forge. His arms crossed as he stood there, towering over the workspace. “Been a while since I’ve seen an Arryn, though I believe it’s Lefford now, right? My delayed congratulations, my lady.”

                   the warm heat from the forge was enticing, the way it sent hot air across her and pressed through her leather gloves. she slipped the fabric from her hands & pocketed them, but kept a safe distance away from the burning coals - she did not desire to have tragic songs sung of her beauty being burned away. ❛ do you spend a lot of time here?  ❜  she inquired, as she did her best to disguise her judgement. ursula never liked anything which got her hands dirty. ❛ thank you. it has been some time since my marriage, but i have never ventured this far north & i doubt the remaining arryn’s have either. ❜  while her husband held the north in high regard, ursula was not so enamoured. 

[gildcdfalcon]

LADY URSULA AND LORD NAETHAN LEFFORD OF CASTERLY ROCK

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winterfellglory‌.

It was unseemly, he had been told by his chamberlain. Unseemly and not befitting of a prince. What would their guests think? What might they whisper about Eddard Stark once they noticed? And yet, here he was, ignoring all the whispered warnings and the eyes of lesser men. It needed doing. The ringing was loud and sung through the smithy. He had, against his own will to be sure, decided to wear a thin tunic of foul white linen. A wrap of thick leather around his waist, something that had been drilled into his head by the castle’s smith. If he was to enter the smithy, he’d atleast wear the leather skirting.

He beat away at the inside of a dented cuirass. The cherry-red metal bending to the shape that Eddard wanted it formed with each stroke of his hammer. His face was sweaty and smeared with soot. His hands were the least princely one could have ever imagined. Muck, grime, callouses, blisters and dirty, cracked fingernails. The ringing of the hammer had been long since tuned out. The only sound he heard his own, internal monologue. He could think in the smithy, without being asked anything. The sound of ringing metal kept most people but the smith and his apprentices away. And the smith was a kind man, his apprentices meek. They didn’t bother Ned when he worked, and Ned always left the working stations as he had found them. Stocked the coals too. His thick forearms screamed now, straining with each swing. And so, he decided to take a break.

Standing from the anvil, he walked first to a trough of water and washed his hand. The water was freezing cold, but the man seemed to have his own, internal furnace. Then, he washed most of the muck off his face and out of his beard. Steam rose from his exposed neck after he had wet it. Around him walked men and women in thick cloaks. He watched as he grabbed for his waterskin and sat down on one of the stools underneath the overhang that kept the smithy dry. As he took a sip, he caught the eye of one that approached. As he set the skin back down, his voice - deep and commanding - fell from smiling lips. “Cold? Come stand by the forge. The coals’re roaring.”

                    the cold was difficult to grow accustomed to, but ursula had become familiar with the practices which she must abide by if she were to survive the chill. she had been told of the hot springs in the heart of the weirwood, although traversing there was it’s own challenge. she missed the frivolity of her everyday life, the walks in the gardens, sour lemon cakes and sweet plum tarts, new poetry in her hand and finest fabrics from across the narrow seas. it seemed that life in the north was more practical, it relied more on survival than it did fancifulness. ursula was not accustomed to a stripped-back version of her life & truth be told, she hated the north. it was ugly, cold & boring. of course, ursula had limited her vocal insults, since she did not wish to offend the king or his people.

ursula frowned as she passed the smith, for a moment she thought she saw the prince. what kind of place was winterfell, where the prince was working in the smith? the pale-haired lady stepped into the smith & tried to ignore the strange smells which circulated in the air around her. the lady of casterly rock bit her lip to suppress the accusation on the tip of her tongue. it was most unsightly to see a member of the higher nobility working in such a manner.

❛ the forge? ❜ ursula questioned as she took a tentative step forward. she was very clever, annoyingly so, but she had never entered a smith & so she had limited knowledge of the tools which they used to do their work. she assumed that he was referring to the lumps of coal which appeared to be almost on fire. ❛  it looks dangerous. will anything spit up at me? i don’t wish to burn my face or gown. ❜ 

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mistressila‌.

It seemed that no matter what time of year it was the north was always cold, it was her first trip to the region in person, but she’d heard enough. Ila had thought it was perhaps a stretch of visitors imaginations but standing in the North herself, it was clear it was a fact. Puling the decorated cloak tighter around her shoulders she stared at the door that lead into the crypt. “Is this how all Northerners bury their dead?” She mused, imagining what laid in the darkness below.

                    ursula could not say what exactly compelled her to venture into the crypts of winterfell. there was no one for her to visit, no soft emotions beyond obvious respect for those who had passed on. stone structures lined the walls, immortalised starks carved with an expert hand. she wondered how much likeness had been captured by the stonemason & if those who had known the deceased, recognised the face staring back at them.  ❛ i wonder what happens when they run out of room, ❜ she said morbidly, aware of the other woman’s comment. 

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cerystully‌.

      it was often hard to separate cerys from her son. young edmyn named after her husband’s father who had been nothing but polite and kind to cerys when she had visited with her father for so many years growing up. even when the septa offered to watch him, cerys had to be near close to passing out before she would let him be watched over by another. even now, as she took a stroll around winterfell, holding him close to her body. he was only about two almost three years old and so she was still very much in the keep close to her son part of her life.

      she heard the clashing out swords in a sparring match, stopping to watch for the fewest of seconds. brynden was skilled with a sword, the best swordsman in house tully in years she suspected. cerys understood that once their son was old enough to hold a small wooden in his hand that he would want to teach. as much as no mother wanted their children to learn to fight, it couldn’t be helped. she became aware of the other mother’s presence, balancing her son a bit. “ as soon as they old enough and able, no doubt they will have wooden swords in their hands. ” she said in response, referring to her son and the other’s.

                    blue-green eyes flitted over the other boy & paused for a moment. he looked to be closer in age to her second son, cedric, than the four-year-old nestled at her side. she wondered if the tully boy & her own would one day fight side by side, with friendships formed on the battlefield. ursula shuddered, but it was not from the cold. ❛ i daresay that on that day they’ll think themselves men, ❜ ursula chuckled, imagining triston strutting around with his chest puffed out, despite still being only a boy. ❛ yet there are still those that say that sons are easier than daughters. ❜

❛ are you enjoying the north? personally, i was rather relieved to finally escape the wheelhouse. ❜ ursula spent the final leg of the journey huffing inside the wheelhouse, complaining that it was designed as a form of slow torture. she would much rather have been astride her horse for most of the journey, but it was unbecoming for a lady of her standing.

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tallisstark‌.

Tallis let out a small laugh. She knew the frustrations of the small boy well, having spent her life being relegated to observer where she would have preferred to swing a sword with the men, shrieking and hollering, skinning her knees and rolling in the mud. Often, nobody could stop her when she put her mind to it, but with so many guests in Winterfell, even she could recognise that it wasn’t in anybody’s best interest to act her usual hellion self. 

“I fear your son and I are all too similar in that regard,” Tallis offered the lady an amiable smile, before catching the child’s eyes and poking her tongue out in jest. “The future of the kingdom is in promising hands with this little one to defend it, by the looks of things. He has all the makings of a great lord. The kind they write the songs about.” 

                    ursula smiled graciously at the stark princess, despite the dagger which she felt slice through her heart. it felt like a double-edged sword to be a mother to a brave boy - pride & fear entwined, splintering through her veins. wouldn’t she be pleased if one day people wrote poems, songs & tales of her brave sons? it was in the best interest of the westerlands that her house look strong, undefeatable & that was exactly what she wanted. the child at her side was the product of her ambition, even if her vain heart carried more than pride inside its glass cage. 

❛  perhaps, they shall sing songs about you, ❜ ursula offered. she had never felt the inclination to hold a sword or fire a bow, but she held respect for those women who decided to break the rigid boundaries of society. ❛ has the intrusion of visiting southerners caused much disruption into your life? ❜

[unrealunearths]

Khaleesi.

[gildcdfalcon]

URSULA LEFFORD NEE ARRYN LADY OF CASTERLY ROCK THE GILDED FALCON 

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                    her eldest son at four years was hoisted at her hip, clapping his hands eagerly at the sight of a  sparring match down on the ground below.  her son’s usual light weight was made heavy by the pile of furs she had wrapped him up in,  fearful that he might succumb to illness if he was exposed to the cold too much. she shifted him slightly,  as he grew more enthused, ❛  are you enjoying that, sweetling?  ❜  she cooed at him,  turning her head when she noticed another observer.

it was clear from her son’s nature, that unlike her second-born,  who was a reserved & brooding boy,  he looked forward to being able to play fight. but wasn’t that a mother’s worst fear?  when it all stopped being a game.  the thought made her hug him closer, ❛  i think my boy would rather be down there with a wooden sword in hand than clinched at my side, ❜ she jested, as triston’s legs continued to wiggle enthusiastically. 

[gildcdfalcon]

goldghosts‌.

         to the east, over winterfell’s walls, the deep blue of the night sky is just beginning to lighten as jeyne crosses the courtyard. her breath steams in the air, the chill of the dawn mist clinging to her and sending a shiver down her spine, but she is restless, and cannot stand to stay abed. instead she turns to prayer ; although she is hardly the most pious, she appreciates a moment of solitude, and there are few places a lady can go unattended without drawing unwanted attention. she approaches the small sept, head bowed and hood drawn to try to keep out the cold, and does not see the figure near the doorway until she’s much too close. startling slightly at realizing she is not alone, her surprise melts quickly into curiosity.

         “ good morning. forgive me, i didn’t think anyone would be here so early. can’t sleep ? ” the question is perhaps a little forward, but jeyne’s courtesies were always rather rusty before noon or so.

                     in spite of her mother’s ardent beliefs & overly pious constitution, the devout appreciation of the gods had been lost on ursula. she was too frivolous for their tastes, coating herself in fine fabrics & sweet perfumes. she thought of them very little & when she did visit the sept to pray, it was only ever for selfish reasons. when she was younger she prayed for the same illness which had taken away her mother, to cast down her malevolent step-mother. then she prayed that corwyn royce would meet a dreaful fate, so that she didn’t find herself married to an oaf of a man. 

her most recent visits turned to thoughts of her children, whom she adored more than life itself. ursula had a deep-rooted longing for a daughter, despite the three boys in the nursery. she prayed to the seven quietly & then turned her attention to the only other person in the building. ursula recognised the lannisport-born lady, so she plastered a charming smile onto her face & walked forward, while her antique gold-toned velvet skirts brushed against the old floor.  ❛ most days i rise early to see the sun climbing up the rock. as a child i enjoyed the heights of the earie and the feeling on the wind in my hair, casterly rock often gives me that same joy. of course, winterfell doesn’t have the same effect, but i’m still awake while many rest. ❜ 

[lordofraventreehall-deactivated]

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lordofraventreehall‌.

“No, I think if you asked most people they would have assumed by now the kingdoms would be joined under a single king and queen.” Henry agreed.

He picked up a cup of ale he had next to him and took a long pull from it. “I wonder sometimes if the kingdoms are like breathing. As time passes they grow closer together and then farther away like lungs filling with air and then having it breathed out.”

He knew it was not the most elegant analogy but after two cups of ale it was the one that came to his mind first.

“Maybe the kingdoms aren’t meant to be together always. They need time apart to come back together.”

                     under the rule of the lannisters, the westerlands would likely have always remained loyal to the south. for centuries they clawed their way to the top, with golden-haired lions proclaiming themselves to be rightful stags, before dragon wings once again swept over the continent & took back what was rightfully theirs. the leffords were true to their words, gained by ascension, & how they had risen gloriously through the years to take the seat of casterly rock. her own ancestors would never have joined with north, especially not from her mother’s velaryon bloodline. 

the unusual alliance of kingdoms did present opportunities for disruption or renewal, although she wasn’t certain which side the fate of westeros lay under. ❛  i think that everyone would be wise to keep their wits about them. who knows who’s a friend any longer?  ❜ she smiled then, & brushed aside her long silvery locks. ❛ but i am just a woman so i may be wrong.  ❜  she wasn’t, but she liked to play down her own abilities.

[lcffords]

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lcffords‌:

i. FORMER BETROTHAL

                    ❛  it  will  be  a  pleasure  to  marry  you,  lady  ursula.  you’re  everything  that  i’ve  dreamed  of  having  in  a  wife.  ❜  the  words  felt  coarse  against  her  skin,  grating  against  the  very  last  nerve  in  her  body.  her  brows  darted  up,  fielding  amusement,  which  she  tucked  in  the  corners  of  her  plump  lips.

she  took  his  hand  in  her  own,  &  patted  bristly  knuckles  in  a  patronising  manner,   ❛  how  charming.  but  alas,  i  did  not  dream  of  you.  ❜  she  retorted,  ignoring  the  aggrieved  look  from  her  father.   ❛  have  a  nice  day,  lord  royce.  ❜

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lordofraventreehall‌.

Henry looked up at the sky as day turned toward night.

Winterfell was quiet for the moment. As the sun fell so did the temperature when the winter was here.

Henry wrapped his jacket around him a little tighter as he brought a cup of ale to his lips. He had spent the last hour praying in the weirwoods as he did most evenings. He used the time to clear his mind and just center himself.

“Do you think if you told someone from 200 years ago what these kingdoms would be like now they would be pleased by it?” He asked when he heard someone steps nearing him.

                     from her father, ursula developed a passion for history. harlan arryn had gained the knowledge out of necessity, but she discovered it out of interest. when she was not reading poetry or avoiding the unwanted affections of corwyn royce, she was devouring the tales & songs of westeros, locking the information within her mind for future use. the old targaryen king’s thought their power was infinite & that their control over all the land was inevitable, but it rose & fell with the turning of the tides. 

ursula pondered lord blackwood’s words silently for a moment, mulling them over in her mind carefully. ❛  i think that it depends on who you ask. the kingdoms are divided, i don’t believe anyone from 200 years ago foresaw that.  ❜