— 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 ; @godsvvept - Tumblr Blog

# 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐬𝐯𝐯𝐞𝐩𝐭 : a multi - muse blog with characters written by mina for @/oathsrp.

& I move like a wound—always, and fruiting, sweetened by the thorn. — — GWYNESSE LANNISTER, NÉE GOODBROTHER, ruling lady of lannisport.

introduction ; stats ; aesthetic ; study ; visage ; threads.

& I confess: i am greedy; i think i deserve to be seen for what i am: a boundless, burning wick. . — — ELIA SAND, sand snake.

introduction ; stats ; aesthetic ; study ; visage ; threads;

tarmal:

there had been many pivotal lessons forcibly learnt in the near - forty years that she had spent in various stages of solitude. as a girl, exposed to brief moments of light and warmth in the water gardens before the rebellion had pulled a shroud of mourning across the blazing sun of dorne, she had struggled against the quiet darkness but stars came to die at the mouth of the torentine and she had been foolish to think any different. the crisp wind of the red mountains filled her lungs with the sharpness of life, forcing her to rise every morning in the quiet of starfall and the surrounding lands to decipher which type of quiet she would have to stomach for the day ─ there was the silence, which was loud in it’s echoing emptiness and painful in the memories that it brought back, the voices of phantom specters driving her to points of insanity in the depths of her darkness, and there was the stillness, which was suffocating, squeezing the air out of her lungs until she could only lay in bed, curled up around herself until the pressure stopped.

when she woke that morning, it was to a different tightness in the air.

the servants were scarce but present, the sound of their shuffling feet more prominent than usual as they prepared her things for the journey south. allyria would have preferred to remain behind, to impart her knowledge of the past on the dragon queen so that someone else would be burdened with the weight of memory and promise, but her prince had bade her to escort his youngest son and she was not one to refuse. the steps that echo up the marble staircase to where she was seated, folding the delicate chiffon scarves into neat squares for packing, belonged to no servant or prince, however ─ for a moment, her heart picked up, remembering when edric used to thunder up and down the steps in his moods, but the boy was far from her, buried in the damp soil of the riverlands. ( she dared not excite herself with the alternatives, not this close to their journey, where dorne, doran and trystane needed her to be strong. )

❝ elia. ❞ the name was breathed out in a half - sigh, the sight of ellaria’s first little snake. she had been at the christening and presentation when oberyn whispered the name and her heart had been broken all over again at the burden that babe had to carry from birth, bearing the name of the beloved elia martell. ❝ you are to be my escort ? what happened to doran’s proper guardsmen ? i agreed to watch trystane, not you, bachheda. ❞ a gentle tease as she rose from where she sat, gliding forward soundlessly ( one learned to be quiet so as not to disrupt the ghosts of starfall ) to brush away a few sticky strands of soaked hair from the younger woman’s forehead. ❝ do you need a bath ? i can have one drawn while you explain our path to me … there is a painted map on the table, if you wish to see it. ❞

she trusted her prince but that did not mean that she was willing to spend days lost in the red mountains because doran or oberyn ( or both ) decided that elia needed to learn some responsibility at her age. while she was, undoubtedly, sent to keep an eye on both trystane and elia, allyria would not intervene and fuss over them either ─ the young needed to make mistakes to learn but she would be there to pick them back up if they fell, and to defend them if necessary. ❝ when will we meet with trystane’s people ? ❞

“whatever do you mean by proper guardsmen?” oh, elia knows very well just what aunt allyria means, but if there is something they know they must do is hold faith on themselves, especially when being acknowledged for what they wanted to be — a proper, grown person very capable of holding themselves and protecting their loved ones — was difficult, even more so when it came to people who knew them, and had watched them suckle from their mother’s teat, as allyria had done. “trystane is a child. i am not. i have come and gone alone for years now. trys is the one who’s going to meet new roads and play at prince.” not that elia was much different than their cousin — something they had actually wanted to comisarate with trys about, if there was an opportunity for sweet words and they were even able to utter them properly — but, again, they were the grown one. ( edric is, and was younger than i am when he went around further north than i, elia means to plead for their case, but reasonably the words die before the tongue can push them out. edric was no longer a topic that pleased either of the two women to discuss ).

the touch from the other is a welcomed one, and elia has to stop herself from behaving as the moniker given by her aunt, from nuzzling against allyria. there is little way to hide the way their eyes, already so very wide, enlarge at the offer. “i would not be opposed, actually.” elia is not demure, far from it, but they should be hesitant, at the very least — a bath would extend their trip, and delay not only themselves but the others, yet even elia recognizes the enticement of cleaning up, especially in such a weather and in a dornish noble baths, where they could play with both cool and tepid waters as they wished. “i have ridden by myself, so we likely have a day and a night. less, if father has any say on it though the last i saw her, mother was packing trunks and trunks and trunks.” they wave off a hand dramatically, shuddering. thank the seven and all the other gods that obella had been the one to stay and help, and not herself ( not that elia was of much help in such domestic matters. if anything, mother would end up sending her to the stables, where she would not get in the way of things ).

“i do wish you had come to the gardens, though.” this was not an unusual request — it was one repeated by all of ellaria’s children, but elia had been the most fervent ( annoying ) communicator of it, still. this time, however, by the glint in their eyes, and the way they seek to hold allyria’s hand ( not only to stop her from fussing, but to actually hold ), there is something else, something new. elia did not know how privy allyria was to the martell’s schemes, but this was allyria, who had swaddled her when she was a babe, and whose sister had been almost attached at the hip to the better elia, the dead elia. and so this elia trusts her like no other, and hopes so has father. “have you seen them? her? them?” the dragons, their mother and her people, in order. “it is a thing for old maesters’ scrolls, aunt! or, well, new ones.” for daenerys targaryen surely would be in those, even if not in a moon or two, but soon. “i am almost envious of loree for staying behind with uncle doran and their whole party.”

#— — 𝐄. 𝐒. : dialogue.#elia : let me just go thru a brat phase at the tender age of twenty four #allyria : oh may the seven help me :headache:

wxsterling:

Blue-green hues turned from the sea, watching colors stream of greens and blues she had never seen so close to the coast but appeared here farther out in deeper waters. Though her world was limited and her experience of others had only been of westermen in the westerlands she knew quite enough to tell from a tone of voice some slight discomfort as the hazel eyes took in as they switch from the sea to catch a glimpse of children running about playfully on the deck. A smile widened as Jeyne imagined how much fun her younger brother would have running about with them, close in age to the lady gwynesse’s eldest. Children were not easy things to handle nor things that ought to just be handled but there was only one of their mother and Jeyne was capable of helping keep children entertained.

Greeting her with a smile still, gentle and kind she bowed her head in recognition of his mothers job. Was it well done - as well as her mother could do as well as Jeyne knew her capable of but in truth much of what you saw was due to the Westerling girl herself. “Father always believed while someone could extend their thanks as a whole it is still a fine thing to be truthful when it is yourself alone. Your little ones seem to be enjoying this greatly. Rollam is the only small one we have at the Crag of course and he seems to be enough of a handful for my mother at times but I am good with stories and can persuade them to listen to a few so you might have a moment - not that you need one of course but if that would be helpful you shall have it” Jeyne nodded before answering gwynesse’s questions “I have never been, sadly. I have scarcely been outside of the westerlands before. It is exciting. Some of the soldiers and merchants that pass through have been. Its always a touch strange to never have travelled but to have seen the world through others eyes but it will not beat first hand experience” Jeyne mentioned before extending her listening ear hearing about her inspection of the ships putting herself there beside the woman watching through a minds eye to think of the things a seafarer would look for.

Mention though of Raynald was enough to pull her from an imagined inspection scribbling down in the back of her mind to think of the build of a ship and what was required to make it sea worthy to question about later to know more of Gwynesse’s background and the ironborn she had even more questions about. “Raynald is an excellent sailor. I make not assumption that he would be better than your own flesh and blood who were born to the seas. He could learn a great deal from your brothers and kinsfolk of the islands. He certainly does have sea legs compared to those farther inland. We have had on occasion the chance to take advantage of the crag’s waters. Boating on occasion. I know my way around a small boat to be able to help sail it but something as large as this there are many more things to watch for. How early did you learn to sail?”

oh, children talk. gwynesse manages to keep herself from retching, and even from rolling her eyes, yet a twitch at the corner of her lips betray her annoyance at the mention of her children — she should have enough experience, as this sort of boring topic is a large portion of what the westerlander expect her to partake on and often parroted to her, as if she was obliged to entertain them and faking interest on whatever ugly drawing her son has gifted to her — but she hopes the tic can be excusable by the pounding against her skull. “they do have the sea in their veins, for father and mother. if any of them got seasick, i may throw them overboard.” at least one of her brothers had threatened to do it to her, and another had done it to geirdis, so she sees no harm in it, but gwynesse knows better and turns her face to the soft girl beside her, offering her a smile. “i am jesting, lady westerling, before you take me for a brute as well.” which she was, but first impressions mattered, even if the interlocutor was but a girl of a house of little importance. “however, indeed. i could use a moment. five is...” the fair haired takes a pause, and adds a hum, playing into the comical approach she had just opted by. “a lot. you only have the one, so you will know soon enough.” practice was of the uttermost importance, even she, who had hated the army of babies her mother popped out year after year, understood that there had been some use to being accustomed to a shrieking child. “lady sybelle was blessed to keep her family of a manageable size, you see. my mother bore fifteen.”

she stays quiet as she listens to jeyne go on about her lack of experience, and gwynesse finds herself surprised to realize kinship with the girl. she had once, too, only been able to lap up from word of the men and women who came by hammerhorn, but their tales of past glory or grumbles about the greenlanders paled ahead of real experience ( still may as well do, though gwynesse would rather not to think of herself as that green girl with too much hunger in her belly collecting rocks by great wyk ). “it is not too strange, i fear. we are women, the world is not always kind to us. my parents were paranoid of it, at some point, but it is true. nothing beats first hand experience.” she repeats, with a nod that is almost solemn. “you have an opportunity now, jeyne. savor it.” another pause, but this one is less humorous. “your mother does not wish for me to let you out of my sight — rightfully so — but as i have little experience of my own on kings landing, you can come along, and we can see the city for ourselves.” there is a promise that is yet unsaid in the lightness of her tone: behave, and you shall get more opportunities as such. grown as she was ( only half a decade her junior, even if it appears so much more ), gwynesse could hope the girl would not worsen her headache as her infant children did, but, then, she would put her hand on the fire for anyone, nor voice actual binding words.

the girl’s flattering of the ironborn is somewhat a novelty gwynesse did not expect from one whose lands were often plagued by her kind, but the fair headed does not comment on it with words, merely giving the girl an odd look that was both amused and chastising. “you should not wish for raynald—” something to take a note of, she supposes. “to ever learn anything from my brothers. my lord lannister shall be a better professor, i am certain.” besides the youngest of the triplets, it was more likely the least raynald would go through if ever meeting a goodbrother would be a good beating. the idea itself is so jocular gwynesse does not hold back a soft chuckle, shaking her head as she hears the other’s question. “oh, must you make me count?” perhaps the light mood has indeed shifted into reality, for gwynesse even jokes without making it a play. it is not a very hard accounting to do, however. “hammerhorn is farther from the sea than the crag is, i believe.” she has not studied westerlands map, nor been in the westerlings’ home for many years now, or been at her own home for that matter, but gwynesse recalls of the wicked expedictions towards the shores of the great wyk, all the slashed feet, aching palms and burned cheeks. for all of her dimmed wanderlust, learning of sailing had not been her favorite childhood activity, much preferring to go farther inland to the mines, but the goodbrothers did not betray their line, and it had been something necessary regardless.

“small boats? perhaps at eight or nine?” geirdis thought that if they disappeared towards volmark, mother would take notice of them — all they received when they landed at the neighboring old wyk had been an earful so long geirdis had asked for the smack instead ( gwynesse had stopped her twin from receiving the physical punishment, erupting in loud sobs with fat tears, begging for mother; later on she had pinched her stupid sister, but only lightly so she would stop being stupid ). “gormond thought three and ten was a good age for sailing around the isles, though, so both me and my sister learned the ropes on his ship at two and ten, to go with him to a neighboring island on our three and ten name day.” a furrow settles between her brows as she looks from the westerling to her eldest. “jason shall have to properly learn it soon.” she notes, more to herself than anything else.

#i started this wishing to cut it to two paragraphs at most #turned out one can not stop a rambler :clown:#— — 𝐆.𝐆. : dialogue.#violence tw #minor mentions but

setting : starfall, weeks before the dornish depart for the wedding. with : allyria dayne ( @tarmal )

the horses like the starfall lands more than elia does. though it has always been a thing of legend, for elia and their younger sisters, the palestone sword seemed more like a magnificent tomb than a castle, haunted by stories of people elia has never or hardly ever met — elia is not a very superstitious person ( thus it may be so why they still come around, when others are at times intimidated by the curse of loss that seems to haunt the ruling family of these lands ), but as she guides mariah along the way, she tries to focus on anything but the shiver that cools her spine. the smooth ride is a good enough option, yet, oddly, better is to pass the doors to the keep.

elia is parched, soaked, with sand sticking to places mother told them not to mention — true, the filthiness does not disturb them as much as it would someone else — and, most importantly, they are rather enthusiastic to go up those endless stairs, more than she has for a few years, since she’s last seen edric on these halls. the palestone sword seems like another castle now, but elia is just as brash as she had been a few years ago, stomping up the stairs despite the silent pleading on the dayne servant’s eyes ( they have ceased trying, which she is thankful for. elia only listened to a few select people, and they were certainly not one of those ).

“i feel like the waters are getting colder now, what on the seven hells,” it was better to blame it on the coolness of the sea breeze and the sand, rather than on the gruesome thoughts of the water burials that made her skin crawl ( not that they would ever say it, much less to the mistress of the house ); it is an as unceremoniously greeting as elia usually is. “see, i’ve endured much as an adventure to come here, bhua ji, just so you will have a proper escort.” pulling out the veil of her head from within her robes, the moist material whips out and is tossed on a chaise; they also pull their hair from their confines, walking over to the fireplace to squeeze out water from her dark braid.

“i trust you have already set your things in order for us to go. i’ve heard king’s landing is quite distant.” they’ve set a dare to memorize the road and the distance, but it is a hard thing to do when elia has always been more of a practical, go - by - touch learner rather than one that could do it simply from a book.

#— — 𝐄. 𝐒. : dialogue.

westerosiladies

#— — 𝐄. 𝐒. : demeanor.

empyrcals

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : travelling with gwynesse; aboard a ship 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 : traveling, 300 a.c. 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 : gwynesse lannister nee goodbrother ( @godsvvept ).

It was a good day for sailing. Though Jeyne would not pretend to know the sea and ships like seasoned lannister navy personnel or the ironborn who ruled the wave and tide for all the stories she heard of them and their drowned god, it was by her knowledge quite good. Father had taken her sailing with her brother times before and from speaking to those docked in the fishing villages near the crag asking many questions on how her lord and father could help them better harness it sunset sea she knew well enough. “Lady Lannister, Gwynesse” Jeyne spoke, calling out to the ironborn lannister of lannisport, the good lady lannister by all accounts that she knew of. Many books had been sent to the crag for her on the account of the far grander lady the one whom she would be travelling with and for the attendance of the royal wedding be assigned to be her lady, a companion and under the wings of the woman. Mother had stated to her before leaving escorted by her Uncle Rolph to the docks at Lannisport and boarding before they set sail reminded by the large square shaped imposing figure of a man that she would represent their house and there was no safer way to travel than with their allies. On deck now as they were on their way, doing her best to stay out of the way of the crew not having caught on that there were ironborn there beside the lioness of the sea she turned to the woman “Thank you for allowing me to accompany you as your lady and for the watchful eye you’ll have over me in this period of time while we are away. How long has it been since you’ve been at sea like this my lady?”

godsvvept

her head would split in two by the time she arrived to king’s landing, of that gwynesse was certain — the night before she had taken in a poultice given by her rat of a maester, but, while it served its purpose to at least allow her to sleep, the effect had wore off by the morning, when tybold woke her up with a rather foul mood, a tantrum that was followed by the cacophony of the many lion cubs of lannisport alongside gwin and genna, as they insisted to accompany their nieces and nephews on the lannister ships instead of the good brothers’ ( a measure that gwynesse could not say she was displeased by, even if she knew gysa would flay anyone who touched one of their sisters ). now still some of them played, even under the faint sun on deck, chasing one another on some sort of game gwynesse was hardly engrossed in as she was on her wandering thoughts.

the voice that calls on to her is yet unfamiliar, and she blinks as she turns to the girl, for a few seconds trying to recognize her properly. “jeyne,” the westerling girl. lady spicer was barely genteel, but as much as gwynesse could have turned her nose to the woman, she had admired her cunning and had known of the spicer’s trade far too much to do so, and, over the years, sybelle had become not a friend, but a good enough trading partner for her to appreciate and allow her some value. bringing and promising her daughter to be looked over was less entertaining for her — gwynesse had enough of junk aboard already ( her children and sisters included ), and keeping guard of a woman grown would likely prove to be an annoying task, but hopefully she would find some use to the girl ( and there was no denying that it was flattering that she, as the casterly rock branch had departed moons prior, was one of the highest ladies of the land, and worth such trust ).

“your mother has already offered me her thanks, but i appreciate it, and to see she has raised you well.” knowing sybelle as she believed she did, the girl was probably coached in the best way a woman like lady spicer could do, though gwynesse could not help but to wonder how much of it was genuine, glancing at the brightness of the other’s pretty eyes. “are you enthused for king’s landing? have you ever been?” certainly not — gwynesse had only once or twice, but perhaps the westerling would care for it. her question is a bit surprising, and gwynesse allows a pale brow to arch in response, but she does not linger in it, opening up a small smile on the corner of her lip. “i like to be present for inspections of ships at the harbor, from time to time. and i have seen my sister’s departure just a day before we did, too,” her eldest had wanted to sail with gysella and geirdis, but her twin had smacked him in the head and ushered him to land, well aware his father would not be so fond of one of his own sailing with ironborn.

“but if you mean on such long trips, like this...” her smile widens a bit, and she feels the ache in her head dimmer, something soothing her eyes as a sea breeze brushes through their figures. “a bit, i suppose. years.” there was little time for sailing, after all — such occasions were often only reserved for indulging her husband, though it was difficult to say she did not enjoy it, and miss it even. for all of her distance, she was still an ironborn and sea water was in her blood. “do you ever take advantage of the crag’s waters? i have heard your brother— ” she can not remember his name, nor does any attempt to search for it in the confines of her memory, as the westerling lad was hardly one she busied herself with. “is a good sailor.” though for greenlanders, for one not to puke their guts out while at sea, was enough to deem one as a good sailor.

#— — 𝐆.𝐆. : dialogue.#mention of vomitting tw

º . ♔ ⸻ the capital of king’s landing welcomes ELIA SAND of HOUSE MARTELL, the BASTARD / LADY of SUNSPEAR. the TWENTY - FOUR year old DEMIWOMAN is reputed to be GREGARIOUS and VENTURESOME, but with the eyes of court watching their every move, they might turn out to be UNCOUTH and TEMERARIOUS. when songs are sung, their verses speak of A STEADY HAND WRAPPED AROUND A LANCE, READY TO STRIKE AND BREAK INTO A HUNDRED PIECES AGAINST THE OPPONENT; "I AM SEEKING, I AM STRIVING, I AM IN IT WITH ALL MY HEART"; BLACK BRAIDS, OF THE HORSE AND OF THE GIRL RIDING IT, ALMOST AS ONE. whispers throughout the seven kingdoms claim that their allegiance lies with HOUSE MARTELL, where they conspire to COMPETE AND COME OUT AS VICTORIOUS ON THE KING’S WEDDING’S FESTIVITIES’ JOUSTS & PROVE HERSELF WORTHY OF TAKING PART ON HER FATHER’S PLANS. but in the end fealty means little when you play the game of thrones.

full name : elia sand. alias / nickname : el, lady lance. age : twenty - four. gender and pronouns : demiwoman and she / they. orientation : bisexual biromantic. occupation : n / a ( bastard of sunspear + aspirational jouster? ) faceclaim : banita sandhu

date of birth : eleventh month of the year tba. parents : oberyn martell and ellaria sand siblings : four older half - sisters and three younger sisters. significant other : n/a. she has no intention of nor inclinance for marriage. religious affiliation : the faith of the seven.

application ; full statistics ; tdlr and connections below the cut.

trigger warning for : mild mentions of sexism.

names have power, a weight to them that can lift you up or carry you down — elia sand, fortunately, lives a life that allows her to pick the first, disregarding any comparisons between them and their more infamous namesake. the name is the only thing they have in common anyways — the name and oberyn martell, possibly the one true center of this elia’s world. as the oldest of the new generation of sand snakes, elia’s life is much inspired on her father, from her preference to her sisters over anyone else, to her liveliness, even to her hobbies.

they first ride a horse as an infant, oberyn’s left arm around them and the right hand at the reins. elia doesn’t think she has stopped riding ever since — either that be with her father, her mother, her sisters, her cousins, and, finally, alone. it is easily the thing she likes doing the most, and she treats horses both as faithful companions but also as a reliable travelling method.

elia loves traveling, and has consistently explored dorne for the past five years, mostly as a semi - anonymous presence granted by her bastard status, her carelessness about her own outlook, the blades she carries in her body and, oddly contradictory but simultaneously, the very poignant features that tell just who she is ( and anyone in dorne knows better than to cross a daughter of the house martell, much less one of the viper’s own spawns ). as such, she has gained quite a knowledge of not only the dornish terrain, but also of the people, noble born or not.

unfortunately, this does not stretch to beyond the borders of dorne, for as wild as she may be, elia knows she can not tip too much outside of the line not for her own sake, but for the sake of those who love and worry about her ( they had one elia leaving dorne, and never returning, and this elia knows that as much as she tries not to catch up with ghosts, there is only so much she can do about it ).

she’s lived her life mostly unencumbered due to her privileges as oberyn’s daughter, and her mother’s worries of allowing her in the martell schemes, but elia, too, was granted a role, only recently. for years, she has yearned to be a part of the notorious sand snakes — the sisters she has admired for her whole life, each more terrifying and magnificent than the other — and even if that has been delayed ( now for her own sake ), it would have been very hard for her elders to keep her out of it when an actual targaryen comes to share a roof with you, along with her essosi companions and whole three dragons.

elia, unlike nymeria or tyene, lack the finesse for politics, and, unlike obara, she lacks the toughest skin of a true warrior and yet unlike sarella, she has often skipped all of boring history lessons given on the water gardens, but elia, too, is a note - worthy member of her house, and she can be of help.

less infamous than her sisters, the martell hope she can use that “anonymity” in their favor, learning of kings landing and telling both about it, and also dorne, to a queen who is more foreign than she is westerosi. is it a ploy to keep her obedient and feeling as if she belongs, as if she matters? perhaps. is it working? well, we’ll see. elia definitely is trying, and is excited to do so — it’s better that she’s been advised to act as if nothing out of normal is happening, and that’s what she hopes she can do, even in such an unfamiliar place as king’s landing.

fondly known as lady lance around her acquaintances and some competitors, elia has started jousting as a teenager, inspired by their father’s own remarkable career on the chivalrous sport. despite some prejudice faced by her insistence on playing and running when it is not a typically feminine sport ( not that she is typically feminine, anyways ), elia is headstrong and continuously pushes to make themselves known and a viable competitor on the tiltyard, something that they intend to also happen in king’s landing — no better opportunity than on a wedding’s celebrations, after all.

#oath.intro #this will likely still be edited #but i wanted to get it out so i can properly start plotting for my bb

setting: lannisport, a week after the arrival of the king’s invitation. with: @gysellas

bustle is no novelty around lannisport; it is the sustenance of the port town, after all, and with too many children going underfoot and running amok the halls of the lannister keep, gwynesse is hardly phased by the noise and movement of newcomers ( if she likes it, it’s something else that does not matter ). the difference comes through that it is not many people coming in, but going out — she can not recall straying far from the city for longer than a fortnight for over a decade now, and gwynesse has never known how to let go of things she cared about ( not without finding something better to busy herself with, that is ) so the woman that stands going down the hall to one of the many chambers is one that barely resembles the patient lady lannister of lannisport. the neatly pinned gilded hair is there, but the way she glares at the other blonde woman in the room is not lady lannister — but gwynesse goodbrother, who was not unfamiliar with clawing at her sisters’ arms and kicking them under the table if they did not do what she wanted them to do, and whose patience runs thinner by the second. it is what the most trying ones of her family renders her, most times: that pale girl of one and ten, murderous gaze as she watches one of her stupid brothers make fun of her just because they can.

“so do you expect me to ready my trunkets myself when i have servants to do so just to ease your paranoia, gysella? i’m sure maud does not care about how you gutted someone who looked at you wrong. neither can she speak of it, anyhow,” she offers the aforementioned woman a passing glance, as one would a dull furniture — maud was just another inconsequential servant from an inconsequential background, whose only remarkable trait was the lack of a tongue; it had already been cut out by the time gwynesse made it to lannisport, and she had never been curious enough to question anyone about it when maud was so much better as a loyal, quiet shadow behind her, brought out to attend only a few special guests such as god damn gysella, who had threatened some handmaid last time so efficiently the girl sobbed as she pleaded to be excused from the lady goodbrother's company. “besides, there is too much to pack and i don’t want your filthy hands on any of my clothes.”

while maud moves towards the trunkets, her lady pauses suddenly, a furrow growing in between her brows, obviously accusatory. “have you had gwin unpack her own? i’m inclined to believe her hygiene may be better than yours, and she could be of help since you decided to bring them.” of course that would imply gysella paid any mind to the girls, and gwynesse knew better than anyone attentiveness — especially towards something so futile as a child’s pastime — was hardly a goodbrother trait.

#human rights organizations would have their work cut out with gwynesse #i'm sorry she's a c*nt it is her defining trait apparently #classicism tw #cruelty tw #??? not sure but shes horrible #— — 𝐆.𝐆. : dialogue.

º . ♔ ⸻ the capital of king’s landing welcomes GWYNESSE of HOUSE ( s ) LANNISTER ( by marriage ) & GOODBROTHER ( by birth ), the LADY of LANNISPORT. the THIRTY year old CISWOMAN is reputed to be ENTERPRISING and MELLIFLUOUS, but with the eyes of court watching their every move, they might turn out to be IMPERIOUS and DESENSITIZED. when songs are sung, their verses speak of THE TIDE VICIOUSLY BREAKING AGAINST THE SAND AND SPLASHING AGAINST THE WALL, A NEVER ENDING, ALL TOO FAMILIAR CALLING ; “WHAT IF I TOLD YOU I’M SPLIT IN HALF? WHAT IF I TOLD YOU: I’M THE KNIFE?” ; PENELOPE, THE QUEEN OF ITHACA, PATIENTLY TENDING TO THE WEAVING OF A SHROUD AND OF A FUTURE OF HER OWN DESIGN. whispers throughout the seven kingdoms claim that their allegiance lies with HOUSE LANNISTER OF LANNISPORT / HERSELF, where they conspire to GET RID OF THE SQUABBLES ON HER SHIPYARD AND INSTAL HER HUSBAND AS RULING LORD. but in the end fealty means little when you play the game of thrones.

full name : gwynnesse lannister, née goodbrother. alias / nickname : gwyn, ness, senne, the gilded siren. age : thirty. gender and pronouns : ciswoman and she / her. orientation : demisexual demiromantic. occupation : lady consort of lannisport ( as wife of the lord heir ), secretly acting regent of lannisport. faceclaim : naomi battrick.

date of birth : first month of the year of 270. parents : gorold goodbrother & eydis farwynd. siblings : eleven sisters ( two older, nine younger ) and three brothers ( all older ). significant other : tba lannister, lord heir of lannisport. offspring : at least five children. she does not always remember their names. religious affiliation : the faith of the seven ( public; converted by marriage ), the drowned god ( by birth ).

inspirations : eleanor guthrie ( black sails ), jocelyn castell ( jamestown ), penelope of ithaca ( odyssey ), cersei lannister ( asoiaf ), ariel ( the little mermaid ), georgia ( ginny & georgia ), isabella the she wolf of france ( history + knightfall ), livia drusilla ( domina ), emma of normandy ( history + vikings valhalla ), nurbanu sultan ( magnificent century + history ), caroline collingwood and marcia roy ( succession ).

application ; full statistics ; tdlr and connections below the cut.

trigger warning for : toxicity ( both for her #girlboss gaslight gatekeep ways and for her actually poisoning her father in law oop. )