lament the loss

In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed.

[gloverbrandon-blog1]

greeneyedreed:

As the souther-most Northern house the Reeds were perhaps more adaptable to both cultures that they were given credit for. Ascar was raised to nobilities standards and fell back on it in as much as making polite conversation, sitting and watching events with an un-drunk goblet of wine in his hand and a stoic endurance of the stares a ‘bog devil’ could garner at an event such as this. While searching the crowd he recognised a man, not by sight, but by instinct, a Northerner, a true Northerner… not a Stark though, Ascar knew all of them due to the bond between their houses. Still, he’d be better conversation than most, so he walked over and caught his last words.

“Only when winter comes, My Lord.” he said glancing up at him, “And sadly they rarely break out into fights either. If you’re lucky one lord may attempt a sly insult at another and start a fight neither shall recall the next day.”

Brandon instinctively mistrusted the Reeds, as did most of the northern-most houses, but in truth he had always found the Lords of Greywater Watch amenable and even kind, so he pushed away his prejudice at every opportunity. Besides, anyone the Starks trusted was immediately brought into his confidence, so he nodded to Ascar with easy pleasantness. “Winter will come,” he mused, “and then perhaps we will see a real fight, you and I.” He looked down to his fellow northerner with a sly grin. These southerners didn’t know how to throw parties - if there weren’t any broken heads up north, it hadn’t been a success.

[gloverbrandon-blog1]

rhaenysmanderly:

Rhaenys had found herself sticking among those with Northern blood - and while she wasn’t terribly familiar with them all, their faces were still recognizable enough. “I believe it only gets warmer.” She remarked with a frown - knowing that White Harbor was one of the more southern houses that were loyal to the Starks, it was still had more tolerable weather than this. “Though I’m certain part of the warmth comes from the crowd of people. Crammed within the walls of the city… this room.”

“There are more people here than in the entirety of the wolfswood,” Bran agreed, bowing his head in a small mark of respect - he knew the Lady of White Harbour in passing if not in great depth from any time the northern houses had spent together, and he was comforted by her presence, if only by her accent. It helped, of course, that she was incredibly beautiful; beautiful northern women always made him grin. “I can’t imagine even White Harbour could hold parties such as this.”

[gloverbrandon-blog1]

celacnas:

leaning heavily against a stone pillar, celaena idly held one hand against the swell of her pregnant belly, all while her eyelids continually dropped under the weight of her exhaustion. she wasn’t made for parties any longer — not since she had fallen with child. an annoying byproduct of course, since she usually loved the conversation, the food and the drink, happy to forgo her troubles for even just a moment: but the babe inside her managed to negate that reality. flickering her gaze towards the man that had spoken, cel yawned quietly. “not that i’m aware of, no. the capital is always in the midst of summer. seems we’re all out of luck on such fronts.”

Bran automatically turned towards the woman, who was clearly heavily with child and exhausted with it. He had no experience with such things, but his honour meant he couldn’t just stand by, and he cast around helplessly for a chair or something. “My lady, should you be standing?” he asked, flustered, before he finally alighted on a nearby chair and pulled it up for her, taking her hand and helping her into it, ignoring all possible protests as much as he could. He grimaced at her words. “As for the heat -- I don’t know how anyone can stand it.”

[gloverbrandon-blog1]

davosbaratheons:

“No cold, no rain… no thunder to lull you to sleep at night.” That was one thing Davos had no idea he’d miss. It was odd to miss the sound of thunder and crashing waves but he couldn’t help it. He knew of House Glover, the sigil on him, but he’d never been that far. He’d been to parts of the wolves wood with the Stark family but not much of it. “I suppose winter will come to the capital some day. Isn’t that what the Starks say?”

Bran shot a curious glance at the man next to him. The Lord of Storm’s End -- that much would’ve been clear from his conversation even if Bran hadn’t recognised his colours. “I’m sure the thunder is very calming,” he said, with some irony; but then again, he could hardly talk; it was the crisp breeze of the morning that he missed, and that could freeze the extremities off a man if you didn’t have enough furs on your bed. He raised his eyebrows briefly, his gaze sweeping the court in front of them with some measure of disdain. “Winter comes to us all, my lord -- the Starks are very rarely wrong. I suspect Storm’s End will hold out better than the Red Keep, however.”

[gloverbrandon-blog1]

mvrtclls:

she raised a brow at the statement, her head turning to look at the man before eyeing him up and down. the gall of this man was something she could relate to, but not something she truly appreciated. “the day i find reason to believe otherwise will be the day that happens.” her answer is bold, believing her own words entirely. the other regions were certainly better than they once were, though she would always prefer her home to any others. orange and red silks swirled around her legs, skin peeking out from the slit up her thigh as she turned to face him. taking another sip of wine, her head tilted tlightly to the side. “seeing as you know so much about me, do me the courtesy of letting me know of your own land.”

Brandon looked down at the flash of skin that peeked out across her thigh, then looked back to the crowd in front of their table with a faint smile. He understood what she meant, that fierce possessiveness in her voice. She was Dorne. “Have you never been to the North, your Grace?” he asked her, his accent slightly thickening as he turned back to her. “It is not so much of a desert as Dorne, but perhaps more similar than you might imagine. Hard people with hard-won lives. Sparsely populated, but beautiful.” He bowed his head to her. “As I imagine Dorne is, though I have never been.”

[gloverbrandon-blog1]

wintcrsong:

ARYANNA had lost count of how many glasses she’d gone through quite a number of glasses ago. the more she drank, the more odd looks she got and the more she wondered if she was the only person actually enjoying herself about this damn event. “you know this wine is free, right?” she asked the person closest by her. “why is everyone acting like it’s poisoned or something?”

Bran couldn’t help but smile. “Perhaps they think it is, my lady,” he said, bowing his head to her and reaching for the pitcher. He topped up both their glasses. “Though I can’t imagine anyone could get away with murdering an entire wedding’s worth of guests, not even the Targaryens.” 

[gloverbrandon-blog1]

It wasn’t that the Red Keep frightened Bran -- he would never admit such a thing; besides, he had fought wildlings and worse, a place held no fear for him. But he was certainly not comfortable here, that was for sure, and it showed in his posture and the cautious way he surveyed the crowd in front of him. He had never been one for parties -- at least, not parties like this; he liked very much to drink and brawl when the opportunity came, but that was in the North, where people were plain-speaking, plain-eating; not here, when he barely knew where he stood. He kept one hand resting on his hip, where his sword would have hung, though of course it was forbidden to carry weapons in the King’s presence -- the new King.

“Does it ever get any colder down here?”

[gloverbrandon-blog1]

mvrtclls:

“ — and then lord thorne simply stood there and stared as though he wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or aroused!” arianne finished her story with a smirk on her lips, ego and joy growing when she was met with trilling rather. even the few disapproving stares were met with amusement rather than annoyance. the wine settling in her blood was leaving her leasantly buzzed, mood brightening despite the fact that her presence here could be met with animosity. her house was still under suspicion in regards to the arryn murder and she’d been on the recieving end of more than one suspicious looks since the evening began. to her, the mere thought of her family’s involvement was ridiculous. she was the more likely of her siblings to commit such acts, and her brother surely wouldn’t have done such a thing without involving her in some way. so she merely brushed it off, collecting another cup of wine from a passing server as she turned to the nearest person. “this wine is considerably good considering that it isn’t dornish.”

Bran’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline as the Princess concluded her tale, sending those around them into raucous laughter. He even smiled himself; though she could certainly be called intimidating, all that exposed skin and dangerous long limbs, he somehow felt more comfortable with her than with some of the other ladies of the court, who hid their feelings behind simpers and flowers. She was far more northern than she knew, and he raised his glass to her as she turned to him. “Perhaps this will encourage you to rethink your belief that the Dornish excel all the rest of Westeros,” he said, feeling a little tongue-tied.

[gloverbrandon-blog1]

( jamie dornan / 27 / cismale ) → there has been whispers around the keep that BRANDON GLOVER, the MASTER of DEEPWOOD MOTTE has been spotted. everyone knows he can be very RASH, but some may know that he can be HONOURABLE & COURAGEOUS. he has pledged his allegiance to HOUSE STARK, i wonder how long he’ll last in the capital ? → ( eliza / 21 / GMT / she/her )

ok here’s babie no 1! this is bran, I literally only realised when making a url that his name is lowkey bran-dong-lover but THAT’S FINE, WE CAN IGNORE THAT!! he’s the master of deepwood motte (which is north-east of winterfell, right on the coast opposite bear island and through the wolfswood, I’m sorry I love maps) and is northern as FUCK GUYS!! anyway he’s a wip because I still need to get a handle on him but under the cut is the essentials on him & also the glover clan because grrm gave us like. zero deets.

the glovers are HARDCORE stark stans. they would die for any starks in an instant and are mega loyal (I mean, they lowkey still think the starks could be kings in the north). they fought by robb stark’s side during the war and don’t forget it, so they’re also loyal to the targs - only secondarily to the starks, tbh.

their banner is a mailed fist on a scarlet backdrop, and I decided that their words are lament the loss because grrm didn’t give us any so,, there you go.

they were once kings in the north but were vassalised by house stark, so there’s a lot of pride there and they are always solidly honourable and just.

because they’re actually further north than the starks, I can imagine that like the Umbers they’re even more mistrustful of southerners and generally come across as a bit wild and frightening to anyone south of the neck.

right, so, brandon is the current lord of deepwood motte at 27. his father died five years before, so he’s had time to settle in to his command, and he knows the wolfswood like the back of his hand. he’s reckless as fuck and throws himself into fights, but he’s also solidly honourable and takes criticism well. he’s good with a broadsword and terrible with a bow and arrow. maybe he?? was fostered at winterfell?? idk I need to plot with people about his childhood.

I’m not sure what his family’s like yet so if you wanna apply for younger siblings go for it. I can imagine he has a brother within 2 years of his age who he’s quite close to, who he leaves in charge of deepwood motte whenever he goes south, but other than that? open!

he needs to marry tbh to have heirs but he hasn’t done so yet -- his father wanted him to marry a rich southern gal to bring in some cash but he can’t bring himself to because all that silk and giggling sort of terrifies him and he goes all taciturn and gruff.

uhh plot with him!! he’ll be in the capital for the coronation so?

oh and I’m Eliza! I’m 21 and I live in London and you can ALWAYS im me or hmu on discord, I’m lurking basically forever xox

[jamiedornansource]