•SERPENTINE •

• graciela swann neé dondarrion • thirty • ruling lady of house dondarrion & lady of stonehelm •

[graacielas]

♛ → THE STORMLANDS present GRACIELA SWANN NEÉ DONDARRION, the RULING LADY of BLACKHAVEN and LADY OF STONEHELM. when the dragons danced in the sky they thought the GREENS would still fly, but in the blink of an eye, they would all die. the THIRTY year old FEMALE who was GREGARIOUS & ARTICULATE before they saw the first of the flames, is now SHREWD & IRASCIBLE after seeing the last. they’re often associated with a bead of blood on a blade-pricked finger, the frustrated whinny of a mare that resists taming, and the soft, staining soot left behind by a wildfire. ( eva de dominici fc )

• a life for a life was the unbearable trade imposed on a heartbroken lord the morning graciela dondarrion drew her first breath. the sun had not yet broken over the mountains, but the glints of green in her eyes were unmistakeable to lord edwyn. his fair maiden had perished, and he'd spend the rest of his life making the serpent-eyed girl responsible pay the cost.

• affection she lacked from her father growing up was made up for by a young wet nurse who nourished the lady as if she were her own during the first four years of life, and later by her stepmother, eleyne upon edwyns inevitable remarriage. the woman tried her best to instill a loving, demure nature into graciela, but it was too late. the girl with a blade for a tongue and serpents in her eyes had begun to show signs of her fathers short temper and all eleyne could do was ensure she knew how to best keep her fiery emotions concealed.

•by the time the dance began, graciela had surpassed the awkward stages of adolescence and a woman nearly grown stood in the ashes of her metamorphosis. lessons learned from eleyne had molded her into an outwardly charming being capable of controlling the flames within, and her renowned beauty helped to give her the appeal of a desirable marriage prospect. edwyn began to soften to her at this time, though it wasnt because of an innate fatherly adoration. she had grown up to be a perfect pawn in his plans to ally with the great house swann and cement them on the side of the greens during the war.

• her marriage to arthur swann at age 20 began at a rapid decline. she'd shown her disinterest in a marriage to an heir many times, yet still found herself at his side. both houses sought an heir to their respective families and the pressure to conceive would be a major source of contention behind closed doors. to the public eye, arthur came to the defense of his ladywife swiftly and with an iron fist, but in the confines of their quarters, sharp insults and cheap shots were exchanged between husband and wife. there was so much blame tossed around that it interfered with their desire towards one another to try, and they would remain childless throughout their years together.

• the sickened state of arthur swann brought to the surface a kindness that she didnt know she had. no longer was she resentful of the fruitless union, but compassionate in the attentiveness she showed in her care of him. even now, she stays most days by his bedside, tending to scorching fevers and feeding him warm broths instead of allowing the staff to do so. his unwavering public defense of her is returned tenfold despite word from the maesters that he may not survive the coming years. shes seen the strength of her husband and holds hope that he will make a recovery.

• upon her fathers death, graciela was named ruling lady of blackhaven. though he wished for the title to pass down to her younger brother, he hadn't the time to put the plans for succession in order when his demise came. this put even more of a strain on the swann union and she returned to blackhaven on a brief sabbatical to settle affairs that lasted a year. only when arthur showed signs of illness did she return, leaving her home in the capable hands of her younger brother.

• the capture of lord dondarrion by the wyl of wyl has left graciela a seething mess torn by her dedication to an ailing husband and her devotion to the people of blackhaven. she finds herself having to step back from her role as a caregiver to one and step into the role of the protector of many. the transition has been seamless, ire and rage still nipping at the heels of a woman who thought she'd began to see an inner change. her sole focus as of now is recovery, retribution and the head of lord ryon on a pike of blackhavens gates. in the future she plans to fortify blackhaven and is working with architects and builders to create a new, effective kind of structure that she hopes to present to king jaehaerys soon.

[malcontentswanns]

➳

the words barely reached him at first. graciela’s voice floated somewhere beyond the haze clouding wylliam’s mind—distant, like waves breaking against a far-off shore. he sat stiffly, elbows pressed to his knees, his fingers worrying the edge of his sleeve until the seam felt warm beneath the friction. the room felt too heavy, too loud, despite its quiet. the scratch of fabric, the faint creak of graciela shifting in her chair, the sharp scent of the herbal tea—everything sat wrong against his senses. his gaze fixed on a crack running through the stone floor. thin, jagged.

it reminded him of the maps he’d pored over, where borders carved out men’s fates with cruel precision.

your return has brought him much happiness,” graciela had said. the sentiment hung in the air, but wylliam didn’t catch its warmth. his jaw tensed. he hadn’t answered. hadn’t moved. graciela’s voice, soft yet cracked, pulled at him again—but he still sat there, hands in his lap, trying to force the rising panic back down. stonehelm. him. lord of stonehelm. the words rattled inside his skull, sharp as glass. he blinked, sharply, as though surfacing from water. graciela was staring at him, her hand still wrapped around her untouched cup. her face was drawn, tired in a way that seemed to have sunk into her bones. there were red lines in the whites of her eyes, too bright against the pallor of her skin.

“oh.” wylliam adjusted his spectacles, though they didn’t need it. “i—” he faltered, realising how long he’d been silent. graciela was waiting, and he’d left her adrift. “yes. yes, of course.” his throat felt dry, but he didn’t reach for the tea. “stonehelm,” he echoed, tasting the word as if it were something foreign. “you want to speak of its future.” there was an exhale as he put his hands behind his head, realising all too soon that

“i can’t—” wylliam stopped himself, breath hitching, not from tears wanting to spill . “i don’t know how i’m meant to do both. hand of the king, lord of stonehelm. it isn’t—” he bit the inside of his cheek, feeling as though he were hearing everything too loudly. “it isn’t logical.” his fingers drummed against his knee, too quick, too loud in the quiet. “the border’s too volatile. i can’t govern it from king’s landing, but i can’t abandon the capital either. they’ll see it as dereliction.” his voice flattened, growing clipped. “our people are already unsettled and i can’t—i can’t split myself in two, graciela.”

the thought of it twisted in his chest. the politics, the decisions, the expectations—all stacking, all at once. graciela sat still, waiting, but wylliam didn’t think to ask what she needed. why would he? she was family, why would she need to go anywhere at the end of the day? whether arthur was breathing or in his tomb mattered not, he did not dictate her place in the walls of stonehelm. “there isn’t a simple answer,” he muttered, almost to himself. “but it’s going to fall to me, whether i’m ready or not. so yeah, we can talk about it.” for a moment words were half tumbled from his mouth, wanting to ask her if she was sure she was not with child - even he knew it would be too cruel to ask such a thing in this moment.

"...what about it?" he stepped out of the way of his mother as she passed into arthur's rooms, half a hand on his forearm.

[graacielas]

silence, while overbearing, is expected as graciela continues to observe wylliam. his anxiousness is near palpable, and it's become harder to differentiate whether its her own or his that fuels her dread. impending loss holds more weight than that of family even if their blood bond is paramount. there are lands and lives hanging in the balance, graciela knows this all too well. as she sits before him now, her ancestral home is left exposed since the taking of her brother and she feels the hopeless that she thinks he may be feeling deep in her core.

but how could she leave now? pained groans from beyond the door remind her of the oath they took so many years before. to honor one another, to remain side by side until their last breath. she just never expected that breath to be coming so soon. and wylliam. poor wylliam, whose eyes are set on unforgiving stone beneath them seemingly looking for an answer in its fissures.

its almost jarring when he finally speaks, having sat in the stillness for what felt hours. the way he stumbles over his words is atypical to witness in such an important exchange and she remains wordless until shes sure that he's ready to hear her thoughts. and that he is not. as the true depths of his worry begin to spill out into the crisp air, she could have sworn she'd uttered the exact same words upon the death of her father. her strife was only partially comparable to that of wylliams though. he carried not only the weight of stonehelm on his shoulders now but that of an even more imperative title in their capitol. for that she reaches a sympathetic hand across the table to rest at the curve of his shoulder, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"you can wylliam. and you must." a harsh truth, but one served to him wrapped in a warm cadence. "you are far from the first ruling lord to juggle so many important titles. you may not be able to govern and perform your duties as hand at the same time, but you will find a way to flow from one to the next." hand retracts to its place on the smooth, porcelain cup and she finally takes a long sip of the comforting liquid. "a solid foundation here in stonehelm will alleviate many of your worries, and not just in terms of your defenses. you must surround yourself with wise, trustworthy people. i am happy to be one of them when the time comes despite my obligations to blackhaven." theres a certainty in the statement, and even a sliver of hope that their familial connection wouldn't be buried alongside arthur. it pains her to see someone she'd come to consider a true brother brace himself for such turmoil. taking her permanent leave, when they all needed each other the most, is unimaginable.

"i know it is the last thing you're thinking of now.. but have you considered marrying soon?" the question felt wrong to ask in such a worrisome time, but she also felt as if there weren't much of that time left to leave to chance. "having a devoted wife at your side could ease your burden tenfold. not just a pretty, agreeable thing, either. a strong woman, with roots set deep in loyalty and a sense of duty."

and with a fruitful womb, unlike herself. she keeps that sentiment to herself, though. its too painful to recall all the times she'd failed to conceive. "i know most of pray for the opportune time, the perfect moment with the perfect person.. but you know as well as i do that there will never be a moment such as that for people like us. you needn't find someone at this very moment, but i feel that it should be amongst the things you consider during this transition." another sip before she speaks again, "and should you find yourself in need of assistance with sending ravens, arranging meeting and things of like, i am humbly at your service."

[graacielas]

−−−  ꧁  starter for @fortheakhirah . graciela departs from stonehelm by ship to speak with lord celtigar about the recent spike in taxes, and makes a last-minute decision to dock at evenfall hall for a particularly stormy evening.

cold, unforgiving sense of nostalgia snakes its grip around a silver adorned throat as soon as her foot is eveloped in the familiar sands of evenfall hall. she thanks the gods for the billowing tapestries above her, giving those who guarded the island a notion that she's not an enemy or someone foreign. despite the separation by land and vast ocean, they're of the same realm, whose lands are named for the very reason she's found herself navigating the pathway towards the home of the tarths.

rainfall nearly drowns out the droning of footsteps surrounding her. a reminder of how much has changed since her last visit. before, she might have had a sworn sword or two following at a snails pace behind a quickened one, but now? they hovered around her like a fleet of wasps, prepared to sting anyone who came too close. while she can attribute the behavior to the kidnapping of her lordbrother, it doesnt mean she's grown accustomed to it and she hopes that some solace may be granted in a private conversation with evenfall halls ruling lord.

"akhirah."

the name pricks at shivering lips like a thorned rose. formal greetings are a thing of the past between them, not when the weight of their shared history is still nestled deep in her chest, waiting for a glimpse of his defined features to rise up in her throat again. its indecent, the way she admires the man he's become. her husband lies in bed, waiting for the kiss of death and here she stands, drowning herself in what could have been had he not come into her life.

"i was intent on making it to kings landing tomorrows evening, but the ocean had other plans." gestures towards the howling winds that raged past the window pane. "gods willing, we'll be back on the waters by sunrise, but until then, i've some catching your to do with an old friend if he'll have me."

[holdingcaulfields]

scared of becoming your father? me too!

sarah kay/pinterest/aaron smith/the holdovers/daughter

[graacielas]

−−−  ꧁  starter for @malcontentswanns . after a raven long sent and received about arthur swanns failing health, graciela sits vigilantly by his door as he and will speak alone, awaiting a moment of her brother-in-laws time to get affairs in order.

once warm, herbal liquid has gone frigid by the time it reaches the brunnettes lips. she's been too focused on the horrid cough that breaks silence every few moments. its muffled by the barrier that separates them, and she must fight the urge to barge in and tend to her weakened husband. all that he's spoken of is his desire to see will and she cannot find it in herself to deny him of even the most minute of requests.

so she waits. and waits.

a heavy silence adds pressure to the weight of the thick blanket that envelops her form, only broken by a maiden who replaced a forgotten cup with one anew. quick thanks are given before she orders the hall clear of unnecessary bodies. the robed men who take their place have a purpose, one that causes a lump to form in her drying throat yet she find a way to get her words past it. three knocks laid against the partition follow her mention of his company. a small gesture of respect towards the brothers privacy, the very same they show a husband and wife.

an uncomfortable form is unsure where its natural place is when they enter the candlelit room. she hovers around its entrance like the ghost of woman she's slowly devolved into until she finally gravitates back to her resting place. fabric softens her descent into the wooden chair and a hand reaches for the porcelain cup she'd abandoned for the hundredth time.

"your return has brought him much happiness." cracks in her voice are an audible manifestation of the same ones in her well-tempered armor. she'd never felt so vulnerable, bloodshot veins infecting the whites of her eyes like the plague that eats away at the man shes come to love. she manages a small grin to assure him of the sentiment before weariness takes its righful place. "and as fond as i am of you, brother, it has brought me much despair." motions for the man to join her at the seat parallel to her, likeness identical to hers down to the cup thats been waiting to be utilized since the began its rise into the skies. "our dear arthur is growing weaker by the day, wylliam. and its time we spoke of stonehelms future."