The Black Kraken

[gysellagreyjoy]

armoredspirit‌:

       ‘   he  is  not  offended ,   ’       derran  offered ,  his  tone  reassuring  and  gentle  as  it  is  certain .   the  implication  being  that      neither  should  they .       he  was  confident  enough  in  this  sentiment  that  he  had  even  managed  a  joke  regarding  the  exclusion  of  their  god  to  the  man  responsible  the  other  night .  unlike  many  religions ,  the  drowned  god  never  asked  that  his  word  be  spread ,  for  he  had  chosen  his  people  and  had  little  use  for  souls  not  born  of  iron  and  salt .  if  the  greenlanders  wanted  they  were  free  to  drown  themselves ,  but  it  would  never  mean  the  same  thing  as  it  did  on  the  shores  of  old  wyk  to  those  who  belonged  to  him .   ‘   they  do  not  belong  to  him ,  and  whatever  they  constructed  to  honor  him  would  be  meaningless  and  as  much  of  a  waste  of  our  time  as  either  of  the  other  ceremonies  today .   ’

         ‘   what  has  aeryn  told  you   ?   ’    he  inquired ,  brow  furrowing  slightly .  he  had  a  trust  in  her  due  to  time ,  but  if  she  needed  guidance  he  might  reach  out  with  more  intent .   ‘   but  i  wouldn’t  worry  yourself  too  much .  i  know  your  brother  and  he ,  with  our  god  at  his  back  and  in  his  bones ,  will  not  fall  to  games  played  by  men  who  do  not  know  the  waves .    ’    he  shakes  his  head  at  her  question ,   ‘   no ,  gysella ,  you  are  certainly  on  the  right  path  and  in  the  right  mind  on  this .  you  have  been  a  dutiful  warrior ,  and  he  has  already  shown  that  he  values  you .  you  are  better  at  listening  to  the  waves  than  you  may  give  yourself  credit  for .   ’    he  sighed  slightly ,  at  the  mention  of  the  marriage  between  bradyn  and  the  dragon  girl .   ‘   if  that  is  the  case ,  they  will  be  disappointed .   ’

He is not offended, so why was Gysella bristling on his behalf? “Then perhaps I should not be either,” a heavy sigh escapes her lips, and her gaze scans his profile, “Perhaps I am simply reminded why we must do all we can to retain our independence. We have come too far now to fall to those who do not understand us, and will never try to.” The Ironborn were a law unto themselves, and for too long, had floundered under the rulership of those who would have them turn their back on The Old Ways to play games that were beneath them to play. “We will honour Him in our own way, I suppose. It is good that you are here to help us do so.” She had come to put her faith and trust in Derran Drumm, and it would take much to get the brunette to go against his words and teachings. He had proven how close he was with The Drowned God, and she trusted in that more than in anything else. 

What had Aeryn told her? Nothing that Gysella had quite liked, though nothing that truly spoke of her plans here. Still, there was an uneasy feeling in the pit of Gysella’s stomach. “She gave me only a warning not to stoop to the level of those who will not receive us well. Instead, we must involve ourselves with their politics, rather than meet them with Ironborn force. She fears fo her children I believe.” She casts her gaze somewhere in the distance. She is reluctant to speak of this. It feels too much like a betrayal of Aeryn, even as she disagrees with the other woman, but if anybody could provide clarity, it would be Derran. “I worry she coddles them. If they grow soft, the Ironborn will not follow them later on.” She shook her head, clearing it of the worries that picked at her there. “But you are right. I must trust in Rognar, and follow his lead.” She would like to believe his words, like to know that she was saved for a reason, and that there is a reason she still breathes, but the path before her is clouded. How she may serve him is not yet clear, and for three years, answers have eluded her. “Perhaps once. There is little I can do for anybody now but wait for my gift to be revealed.” She thought she had found it, but it had eluded her. If raiding was truly her gift, it would not have been taken away.

[gysellagreyjoy]

lethalfm‌:

                        𝐒𝐇𝐄     𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐓     𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏     𝐓𝐇𝐄     𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐍     𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓     𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐒.     the     lack     of     filter,     how     abrupt     the     other     woman     speaks     is     like     a     fresh     breeze.     the     lady     umber     can     certainly     appreciate     it.     the     lady     knew     how     to     spot     an     ironborn     from     a     childhood     spent     living     on     the     coast.     it     comes     as     no     surprise     when     the     iron     islands     are     mentioned.     stas     was     not     brought     up     to     like     their     kind,     but     she     will     not     begrudge     another     for     where     they     were     born.     something     one     has     utterly     no     say     in.               ❝     you     will     hear     no     disagreement     from     me.     ❞               turning     on     heel,     she     faces     the     ironborn     woman.               ❝     i     have     heard     that     of     the     iron     islands     before.     i     will     admit     to     a     curiosity     about     the     them.     perhaps     one     day     i     might     find     myself     among     their     shores     with     my     curiosity     sated.     ❞

If Gysella had half a thought that her words may cause offence, the woman proves her wrong, grinning rather than reacting with outrage. This warms the Ironborn to the other somewhat. She has no time for the courtesies of greenlanders, and far prefers that she need not take care of what she speaks. It is only a small amount of respect that goes to the other. She has little care for those who are not Ironborn, but she is in no position to seek arguments here. “Do you sail?” She would certainly think more if they did. “Perhaps someday.” it seems unlikely now, given that their independence has now been declared. “Where do you hail from? Perhaps I have visited before.” 

[gysellagreyjoy]

furyfilled‌:

‘   it   seems   you   forget   that   i   have   children   to   protect   in   all   of   this.   ’   aeryn   doesn’t   mean   it   as   a   slight,   and   it’s   evident   in   the   way   her   voice   begins   to   tremble   at   her   family’s   mention.   it   was   such   a   difficult   thing,   it   seemed,   to   finally   have   something   worth   losing.   ‘   i   refuse   to   put   them   in   harms   way   to   further   this   cause,   gysella.   to   put   any   of   you   in   harms   way   needlessly.   if   there   is   another   way,   i   will   find   it   –––   make   no   mistake   about   that.   ’   there   was   something   to   be   said   for   the   sheer   force   of   her   will;   as   ironclad   and   strong   as   all   the   rest   of   them,   even   if   her   cool   disposition   had   never   quite   matched.   her   next   words   are   scarcely   there,   a   ghost   of   a   whisper   meant   only   for   their   ears.   ‘   we   almost   lost   you   once,   ’   she   says,   tone   laden   with   an   understanding   that   some   of   them   felt   it   an   honour   to   be   chosen   by   their   god,   though   aeryn   could   not   mask   the   hurt   which   the   idea   of   losing   gysella   caused   her.   ‘   do   not   ask   me   to   do   it   again.   ’

Her gaze turns sharp, for Gysella is many things, but not one to forget her family. Still, she knows she is not a mother, and will never be. She does not know what it is to carry a child in your belly, and to do all that you can for their survival. And on this, she cannot argue with Aeryn - and would not, for she does not miss the shake to her voice. “I do not forget,” her voice is quieter, scarce more than a hoarse whisper. “But I know our people, my sister. I know what it is that they will follow. If you wish that to be Rowan, then he cannot be shielded for much longer. A few years, at most.” She did not speak to hurt the other, but rather to prepare, to ensure that she knew what would happen. They were two women with a common goal - the success of their family. How they would go about achieving that was where they differed, though Gysella hoped that an accord may yet be found. It is the worry for Gysella, herself, that surprises her, eyes widening in uncertainty, for she has never been comfortable with having others worry for her. “I am here because The Drowned God wills it, and I will not leave this world until I have fulfilled the purpose He sees for me. Regardless of when that day may come. I am ready.” She does not ask. Not outright, but does not promise otherwise, either. Aeryn knows she is devoted, and knows precisely why. Still, the hurt in the other woman tugs at her in a way that she is not used to being tugged, and so she softens. “How can we do both? Play games with the Greenlanders, and appease our own people?” For after all, the latter is all that Gysella cares for. 

[gysellagreyjoy]

ladystokeworth‌:

Her smile faded some, worry of what happened to her but she quickly shook her head, “whatever scars have been bestowed onto you, mentally or physically, I’m your friend and will still stand by your side,” she said, walking forward and placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Gysella”

The words are kind, but Gysella resents them. She hates that she now must rely on kindness, that her weakness is so visible to all and that pity is now her new normal. She longs for the day when she got what she wished for by force, by paying the Iron Price for that which she wanted. Those days have longed passed, and she knows she cannot return. And still, she gives the other a small smile, for she has no reason to quarrel with Evangeline. “I appreciate the sentiment.” That is about all that can be said of the matter. “But what of you? Is there anything new in your own life?” 

[gysellagreyjoy]

lethalfm‌:

                         𝐍𝐎     𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃     𝐓𝐎     𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊     𝐖𝐇𝐎     𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐒     𝐓𝐇𝐄     𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄     𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄     𝐇𝐈𝐌.     the     familiarity     of     the     presence     says     enough.     mahogany     hues     remain     forward,     looking     out.     the     lord     reaper     simply     content     to     enjoy     the     silence     for     a     moment.     if     gysella     has     something     to     say     she     already     knows     she     is     free     to     say     it.     to     speak     her     mind.     for     all     his     many     faults     —     his     is     not     blind     to     them     nor     shies     away     —     no     one     could     dare     to     claim     that     he     does     not     love     his     family.     they     are     the     only     ones     exempt     from     the     hard     edge     of     his     wrath     …     &always     would     be.     gysella     &     bradyn     especially.     those     two     already     tormented     themselves     with     their     own     self-doubt     (     oh,     how     he     abhorred     that     they     felt     they     were     anything     less     than     what     rognar     knew     them     capable     of     )     they     did     not     need     the     harshness     of     the     grey     king     on     top     of     it     all.

                         he     accepts     her     offering.     anything     is     better     than     what     is     being     served     in     the     red     keep,     of     that     he     is     certain.     uncorking     the     leather     skin     to     take     a     swig.     a     grunt     of     appreciation     escapes     him.     it     isn’t     the     best     thing     he     has     ever     had     the     pleasure     of     tasting,     but     it     would     do     in     a     pinch.               ❝     if     we     take     anything     from     out     time     here,     it     is     that     greenlanders     don’t     know     shit     about     their     drink.     ❞               a     turn     of     the     head     at     the     neck,     his     gaze     settling     on     her.               ❝     i     fear     i     will     not     be     great     company.     my     mind     has     not     been     silent     since     our     ships     entered     the     narrow     sea.     i     know     that     he     who     dwells     beneath     the     waves     has     set     me     on     this     path,     but     i     can     scarcely     feel     his     presence     here.     i     should     have     come     alone,     i     do     not     like     our     family     being     in     this     city.     ❞

The two of them were cut from the same cloth. There is an understanding that runs deep between the two, and the person they are with one another was not the same as others see. The two were fearsome, once, together and separately. Rognar is still, but in a different sort of way, now that he was king. Gysella’s pride is unending, but aside from her loyalty, she has little else to offer him. She is useless to her brother. Where she had once been a warrior, strong and fierce in the ways only Ironborn could be, now her body fails her. It is only the love for her brothers that does not falter, and the burning shame in knowing that this would never be enough. 

His words bring a snort of amusement from Gysella. “I did intend to bring more from Pyke, but I ran out somewhere along the Storm Coast.” She had always had an appetite for alcohol, but now it was all she had an appetite for. It was all there was left, really. It helps her sleep at night, and it helps her to forget. She does not push him to unburden his mind on to her. She knows that he will, and is unsurprised when the words fall from his mouth. Gysella tilts her head, looking to find his eyes already upon her. “He may be weaker here, Rognar, but He is not far. No matter how much the Greenlanders blacken their water, He is still near. And He will await our return. I know you will make him proud here.” The words are spoken with utter confidence, for Gysella has never considered a world where her brother may fail. “I would not have let you come alone. I am sorry that I burden you here.” A grimace forms on her lips, for she hates any reminder that she is weak now. “But perhaps I may find a way to be of use to you still. You are a king. Your people will stand with you to the end, not cower behind you whilst you fight their battles. That is not the Ironborn way.” 

[gysellagreyjoy]

pawncd‌:

lady sylvinia oakheart of old oak had grown up on the stories the lands, the seas, and the deserts far to the south. the tales of the targeryns, the lannisters, the baratheons, the starks — the houses that commandeered all those years ago. she had also heard the stories of equally great houses with lesser names — the tyrells, the arryns, the tully’s, to name a few. yet, there was one great house that could keep her attention far longer than lessons on any other: the greyjoys. this interest had become useful when she’d found herself befriended to the eldest princess of the house.   “ lady gysella, ”   her tone is nothing less than teasing,   “ blending in with the scene and keeping a low profile is strongly working out for you. might i suggest stepping out of your comfort zone more often? ”   oh, how she’d missed her friend — missed the chaos that the other brought with her where’er she went. 

“Sylvinia,” Perhaps she should not have been shocked, but it was a welcome surprise to see an old friend. It had been some years since she had last stepped foot in The Reach - back when she had been whole and strong. It was a wonder that the girl could recognise her, given the number of changes that Gysella had faced since she had been injured. The brunette had no love for Greenlanders, but there was something about her she was fond of, and it was with that she threw back her head and let out a loud, and genuine, laugh. “What can I say, I have had little opportunity to cause a stir of late.” she picked up a strand of the other’s hair, ever over-familiar, and wound it around her finger fondly. “It is good to see you here, my friend.” 

[necrcmancr-deactivated20210513]

@gysellagreyjoy​

There were few that stood out to the Lady that traveled to her home, but with Grysella she remembered exactly who she was. Smiling as she saw the familiar face, she quickly walked forward, “well you’re a sight for sore eyes,” she joked, chuckling, “I should have expected you here, but a part of me is still surprised”

[gysellagreyjoy]

A half-smile appeared on Gysella’s face. It was not a bad thing to see old friends. In fact, it was one of the only things that brought a bit comfort to her in these strange lands. “They are about to get sorer,” her grin turned wry, and she pulled at the collar of her shirt, showing Evangeline the thick scar that lay there. “As you can see, I am not quite what I was.” 

[starswhisper]

                      she  has  never  seen  the  various  gardens  of the  red  keep  so absolutely  teeming  with  people .  what  has  served  myriam  as  a  thoroughfare  between  one  location  and   the  next  is  now   an  obstacle   she  must  overcome .  the   westerosi  lords  &  ladies  walk   at   a  snail’s  pace  &  in such  close  proximity  that  it  is  impossible  to  pass through  without  a gentle  shove  or the  clearing  of  the  throat . with  a  roll of  her  eyes , she  tucks  the  missive  into  her  bodice   and searches  for an opening. 

                                  ❛ pardon me ,  ❜ she  begins ,  seeing  her  pathway  of  escape   just beyond  the  individual , braavosi  accent  lilting  off  of  her  tongue ,  ❛ might i pass ? ❜

[gysellagreyjoy]

It would have been easy letting the woman pass. A simple courtesy, a nod of thanks, and they would be parted forever. Unfortunately for the other, Gysella was in a curious sort of mood. She bared her teeth in a grin at the other, and cocked her head. “You might.” She agreed with a nod of her head. “But what would I gain from letting you?” 

[gysellagreyjoy]

furyfilled‌:

virescent   hues   remain   carefully   trained   on   gysella   as   she   moves   towards   the   window.   it’s   not   as   though   aeryn   didn’t   see   merit   in   the   old   ways,   only   that   they   wouldn’t   always   be   able   to   serve   her   –––   not   when   it   came   to   dealing   with   greenlander   politics   such   as   this.   sometimes   one   must   play   the   game   in   order   to   win   the   greater   war,   though   she   was   sure   not   everyone   shared   such   an   opinion.   she   had   always   had   a   different   face   for   every   room   she   set   foot   into;   the   behaviour   was   so   deep  -  seated   that   she   feared   there   would   never   be   a   way   to   turn   it   off,   regardless   of   how   well   it’s   served   her   thus   far.   arms   cross   over   her   chest   as   the   grey   queen   let’s   out   a   deep   breath.   ‘   no   one   will   ask   you   to   bend   your   knee   to   them.   but   you   cannot   let   them   bait   you,   ’   she   explains.   it   was   paramount   that   talks   were   to   be   had   during   their   time   here,   none   of   which   could   take   place   if   the   wrong   people   were   somehow   wronged.

Her disapproval was etched on her face. Gysella was everything an Ironborn should be - or at least she used to be. She had not felt anything like an Ironborn warrior in some time, but that did not mean she was ready to accept Aeryn’s words as truth. However, she had no desire to argue with her. Their relationship was not what it was - better, mended. “I will speak with my brother on it.” She spoke grimly. She may not like it, but if it was Rognar’s wish, she would follow it. “My concern is that if we follow that path, they would think us weak. We are sailors and warriors, not diplomats who hide behind silk and honeyed words. I would rather show them what we are, and then have them scramble for our approval rather than have it the other way.”

[gysellagreyjoy]

wargofthenorth‌:

“I never claimed you were, and if you were there’d be a reason for me to go to church,” he admitted, not just by her looks but from what she had to offer. She was different then the other girls in king’s landing, and it intrigued him. He, himself, was different in many ways and he assumed different people just gravitated towards one another. “Let’s go with the most obvious one, why are you wet?”

“A priest would be a better person to answer your question though, no?” she cocked one eyebrow. She put her hands behind her back, looking at him with all the confidence she could muster, even as her body screamed for a reprieve, a place to sit, a wall to lean upon. “I am Ironborn.” Her pride came from her in fierce waves. “We do not worship the seven-faced God, nor the Gods of the North. We recognise only the Drowned God, and if I am to sit in a sept, I wish to make it clear where my loyalties lie.” 

[smntta-deactivated20200603]

she didn’t give a damn. not about the centennial, not about the king or the queen, and certainly not about whose loyalty laid where. aye, she was a reed, and the reeds were bannermen to the starks, but distance only grew between her and her family throughout the years. she did not care about anyone or anywho, strictly her own and where the roads or her sight would lead her next. she had three grails: fight, profit, and drink. none of the three would be interrupted or swayed, not a time before, and certainly not now. the only reason she would even make passage to kingslanding was to partake in the tourney that could earn her a gold dragon or two.

chin held high with pride, neck kept in line with shoulder blades, and raven strands intertwined forming a messy braid convoyed to her frontal side. that was as ladylike as it got, being clear as day by the grime bedecking cheek to leather breeches, and the tears in her torn doublet from flung swords and thrown daggers. men, they loved their weapons and were preeminent with muscle, but boy, oh boy, did they lack grace. she caught an eye on her, leading her to pull to a holt and arch a brow, “ may i assist you ? ” her voice squally like the wind.

[gysellagreyjoy]

For a moment, Gysella could have mistook the other for an Ironborn woman. She certain looked as though she’d make a good raider. She stood, dirty and proud and clearly a warrior. It would almost be something to admire, she supposed, if Gysella had any amount of admiration in her for the Greenlanders. She cocked her head as they stared at each other. She reminded the Greyjoy of another version of herself, before injury had let her muscles waste away, leaving her with a limp and the constant pressure of pain and exhaustion, and only a thick rope of red scar that crept up from below her clothes, cutting a straight line across her chest and throat. 

“You may, but I don’t think that you can.” She gave her a dark grin. “I stare only because you do not look like a greenlander. Not so soft. Not as easy to kill.” 

[lethalmade]

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍   𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   docks  of  blackwater  bay

                        𝐒𝐇𝐄     𝐇𝐀𝐒     𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑     𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍     𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒     𝐅𝐀𝐑     𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇.     not     even     when     sailing     with     her     parents     as     a     girl.     it     is     too     hot     &     looking     out     over     the     water     does     not     bring     the     sense     of     peace     as     one     had     hoped.     she     longs     for     sea     when     she     sits     by     a     fire     at     last     hearth     &     she     had     thought     that     looking     over     blackwater     &     out     into     the     narrow     sea     might     appease     that     longing.     but     it     is     nothing     but     a     dirty     bay     that     only     serves     to     further     annoyance.     unimpressed     &     unamused,     doing     little     to     mask     it.     already     tired     of     the     facade     &     things     had     only     just     begun.     faking     attentiveness     in     the     sept     as     a     southerner     preached     about     their     false     gods     had     been     exhausting     enough.     limit     reached     for     the     duration     of     the     trip     in     a     single     day     alone.               ❝     for     all     that     king’s     landing     is     the     jewel     of     the     south     …     ❞               the     words     are     dry.     little     care     paid     to     whom     she     speaks.          ❝     they     ought     to     take     better     care     of     it.     widow’s     watch     with     all     its     rough     waters     &     jagged     rocks     was     still     beautiful     to     look     upon.     this     is     decidedly     not.     ❞

[gysellagreyjoy]

The state of the Blackwater Bay dismays Gysella. For one born to revere the sea, seeing the state of the waters below was truly perplexing. Even the Drowned God himself would not claim these waters for his own. One could not be baptised in its depths, for too much swirled below the surface, and the stink that rose from it was enough to burn the nose when inhaled. She had hoped to find herself closer to her god, closer to the sea, closer to home. It was becoming clearer and clearer that this was not to be the case. 

The other spoke, and Gysella was jolted from her thoughts. She turned her gaze to the woman, an eyebrow quirked as she listened. She was not one who had been drawn to beauty throughout her life, seeing only softness and weakness in that which others would call beautiful, but when the other spoke of choppy waters and perilous rocks, that was something she could agree with. That was something she could lose her heart to. “It stinks of shit,” she said, vulgar as ever, turning her back to the bay. “Perhaps you should visit the Iron Islands, then. It does not sound so different to that.” 

[gysellagreyjoy]

armoredspirit‌:

        derran  only  credited  himself  with  so  much  of  her  recovery .      he  considered  himself  merely  a  conduit ,  and  she  lived  because  their  god  had  willed  it  so .  she  was  truly  iron  and  salt ,  a  warrior ,  and  her  ability  to  take  his  efforts  proved  such .  derran  was  largely  unaffected  by  the  concerns  of  others ,  so  used  to  them  from  such  a  young  age       (   so  many  voices  telling  him  to  be  quiet  and  to  stop  asking  such  troubling  questions   ) ,      but  there  was  something  that  caught  him  about  a  genuine  smile ,  something  stranger  to  him  than  looks  of  fear  or  disgust .  they  move  together  to  the  door  of  the  sept  and  into  the  sun ,  and  derran  turns  to  her  an  answers ,   ‘   aye ,  we  could  have  stayed  back ,  but  i’d  prefer  not  to  let  them  forget  that  we  are  here .   ’

         ‘   aeryn  is  an  old  friend ,   ’   he  states ,  a  defense  for  the  words  that  will  follow ,   ‘   but  these  people  were  not  chosen  by  him ,  and  he  would  not  see  us  bow  to  them .  likewise ,  we  are  not  politicians ,  we  are  sailors ,  captains ,  warriors      ——      that  is  what  we  were  created  by  him  to  be ,  and  to  play  their  games  is  to  forget  that .   ’   given  the  opportunity  to  speak  of  their  god ,  derran  would  always  take  it .  normally  it  make  take  a  moment  longer  to  raise  his  voice ,  giving  himself  time  to  think  or  to  listen      (   the  waves  had  answers  if  you  attended  to  them   ) ,      but  this  was  a  topic  that  he  had  spent  much  time  on .   ‘   even  if  we  are  to  humor  them ,  we  would  be  foolish  not  to  ask  what  they  have  offered  us .  we  give  up  our  ships  and  children  to  their  naval  force .  what  we  get  is  what  we  have  paid  the  iron  price  for ,  something  it  could  be  argued  will  be  done  more  easily  without  being  aligned  with  them .  still ,  i  don’t  believe  finding  a  better  deal  is  what  he  intends  for  us ,  but  rather  that  we  be  independent  and  only  under  him .   ’

The old Gysella might have smiled in a sly sort of way, and suggested other ways to remind them that the Ironborn were not to be looked over, ways that would have likely caused far more uproar than anybody would have been comfortable with. But now she was forced to look to other talents, to think about what she did and said, to play with trickery rather than outright force and will. This Gysella was a person she had yet to become comfortable with, but perhaps it would come to work in her favour, eventually. For now, it felt too much like the greenlander way to ever be as natural a part of her as the Old Ways. “It seems that they have already forgotten. There is no ceremony for The Drowned God, I have noticed.” 

Aeryn and Gysella had never quite seen eye to eye. Their approach was too different, and there were times when Gysella wondered if she was truly Ironborn at all. “I have no quarrel with Aeryn.” Her words were brusque, “But neither do I agree with what she would have us do. We did not come this far to fall to greenlander games.” At least, in that aspect, she knew Rognar was of a like mind to her. He would not see the Ironborn scramble like dogs for the approval of softer men. “Then I am not wrong for thinking the same,” she let out a sigh. She knew His teachings as well as any self-respecting Ironborn, but clarity from Derran was always welcomed. “We are giving them my brother, are we not? Perhaps they think this is enough to placate us, as it did the Martells. They do not understand us, and so they underestimate what it is that we are.” 

[gysellagreyjoy]

@lethalfm​

Gysella was silent as she took her seat beside her brother. There was no need to announce herself to Rognar. The siblings had always been close, and it was to her surprise that this did not change after her injury. They both knew what it took to be Ironborn, and both knew that Gysella no longer fit that mould, but he never brought it up to her, never made her feel lesser than she had before. 

For many years, her relationship with her elder brother had been one of her few reasons not to give in to despair. For too long, she had wondered why the Drowned God had deemed her to be worth saving, only to leave her broken, a shell of what she used to be, unable to be of any use to the Ironborn. Then, Rognar had made himself a king. She still could not see what their God’s plans were for her, but now, at least, she could trust that there was one. 

“Here,” she held out a leather skin to him, and uncorked one of her own. “Got it from a winesink in Flea Bottom. Thought it would be better than the piss water the greenlanders like to drink.” She raised it in a mockery of a toast, and then brought it to her lips. It burned on the way down but she did not react. “I’ve had worse, I suppose.” 

[gysellagreyjoy]

armoredspirit‌:

        her  words  make  him  smile ,     overhearing  them  from  where  he  sits  not  far  from  her .  derran  would  agree  that  the  blackwater  was  vile ,  a  corrupted  water  that  their  shared  god  had  never  had  a  place  in .  some  may  see  all  water  as  the  same ,  but  the  bone  hand  knew  there  were  differences ,  subtle  though  they  may  be  and  where  the  change  happened  was  unclear .  rituals  felt  stronger  the  closer  they  were  to  the  islands ,  where  the  ironborn  belonged .  still ,  she  did  him  proud  by  her  statement ,  derran  was  certain .  from  behind  her ,  he  shot  a  look  to  the  lord  who  had  questioned  the  princess  of  the  iron  islands .  

          derran  knew  she  didn’t  require  his  support ,  but  he  did  so  enjoy  starring  at  them  with  such  intensity  that  they  had  to  look  away ,  shark’s  smile  with  too  many  teeth  shown  to  be  friendly on  his  almost  skeletal  features .  he  was  a  ghost  story  to  the  greenlanders ,  and  he  reveled  in  it .  they  should  be  scared  of  him ,  of  all  of  them ;  they  were  a  chosen  people ,  while  the  mainland  sat  in  dry  but  alone . 

        when  the  mass  ended ,  he  stands  and  steps  to  her  side ,  offering  her  his  arm .   ‘   we’ve  been  subjected  to  enough  of  their  gods ,  and  i  have  no  desire  to  watch  the  north  men  stare  at  a  tree  for  an  hour .  let’s  find  somewhere  to  drink .   ’

There was once a time when Gysella had looked at Derran Drumm as a strange sort of fellow. He was Ironborn, but even by their standards, there was something dark and feral humming below his skin. That was the Gysella before, a different woman and a different lifetime. The Gysella of now sees things differently. She was alive purely because of him, this emissary of The Drowned God, and for that, Derran had found a staunch ally in the Grey Princess. Whilst their fellow Ironborn may still look upon him with something like fear, he would find none of that in Gysella. 

Instead, she greeted him with a warm smile, taking his arm easily. Such a gesture would have been met with something like offence if performed by anybody else, but not when she was so indebted to him. “The mass was insult enough,” she shrugged. “We should not have attended. The Northern ceremony would be even worse. We shall drink, and honour the Drowned God in our own way.” 

For a moment, she stayed silent, lost in her own thought. “Tell me, Derran, what He would make of all this? Aeryn would have us play the political game with the greenlanders. I do not think it is the Ironborn way.” 

[gysellagreyjoy]

opposedwills‌:

if  madaelyn  were  a  more  spiteful  girl,  she  might  have  mentioned  that  the  reach  had  not  known  peace  in  decades  because  of  the  ironborn.  but  she  was  more  strange  than  spiteful  and  the  rose  of  highgarden  had  trimmed  her  thorns  before  she  had  arrived  in  the  capital.  house  tyrell  had  flown  under  the  radar  through  most  of  this  conflict  and  she  would  not  be  the  ones  to  pit  them  against  anyone.  besides,  madaelyn’s  desire  for  friendship  was  not  to  be  underestimated.  the  girl  had  a  bright  smile  on  her  face  as  the  other  cleared  her  throat.  though  madaelyn  herself  was  not  a  fan  of  starting  small  talk  —  she  had  never  quite  known  where  to  begin  —  she  was  certainly  able  to  partake.  perhaps  gysella  would  even  see  madaelyn  set  a  record  for  the  amount  of  time  she  could  last  without  bringing  up  death.  ❛  no,  thankfully.  the  roseroad  has  made  travel  easy  between  king’s  landing  and  highgarden.  though  highgarden  smells  decidedly  better.  ❜

The Reach was not unknown to Gysella. She had pillaged and raided alone their coast for over a decade. It had all been taken from her when she had been injured. She had paid The Iron Price for all that she had done, but if she could turn back the clock, she would not change things. She was Ironborn to her core, and had never been made for the safety of castles and keeps. At least she had tasted a little of the world while she could. 

The lady in front of her seemed as green as they came. In Gysella’s eyes, that made her weak, but the Greyjoy was weak herself, now, and in no position to judge. “The Roseroad,” she repeated. It was quite the ridiculous name, she thought. “Small mercies, I suppose.” Her own journey had not been bad, until they had sailed around the Stormlands and put to the mercy of their infamous weather. It had just been good to be at sea once more. “That is what happens when you pack a bit of land so full. It is a wonder they don’t all kill one another.” 

[gysellagreyjoy]

opposedwills‌:

daemon  offered  his  arm  to  her,  not  minding  the  fact  that  she  was  damp.  let  the  princess  make  her  statement,  the  king  would  not  bow  on  this.  he  was  more  than  willing  to  fold  the  old  gods  into  this  day,  the  extent  of  their  prayers  little  more  than  a  few  moments  of  silence.  he  had,  however,  noticed  the  way  gysella  was  walking  and  thought  it  might  be  best  to  offer  his  aid  personally  than  send  a  guard  to  do  it.  if  the  greyjoys  wanted  to  be  treated  like  kings,  he  would  treat  the  family  as  though  they  were  on  the  same  level.  he  just  needed  a  foothold.  

❛  i  am  quite  certain,  your  highness.  though  my  sister  is  here,  i  am  sure  she  would  rather  leave  with  your  brother,  and  there  are  no  other  princesses  that  i  know  of  that  deserve  a  personal  escort  to  the  next  ceremony.  ❜  his  smile  is  charming  as  ever.  say  what  you  will  about  him  but  king  daemon  targaryen  but  sincerity  rolled  off  him  in  gentle  waves.  ❛  and  i  must  say,  though  you  may  be  damp,  the  pleasure  is  all  mine.  ❜

Gysella studies the arm he holds out to her, her Ironborn pride forbidding her from taking it. She had not always been such a feeble lady, and her spirit roars in it indignation at the strange custom. Yet still, it does not quiet the fatigue that wracks through her body. It is with need, rather than deference, that she takes his arm. If her men could see her now, what would they think of the woman they were once happy to let lead them?

“Hmm,” is her only response. She understands, of course, the need for a political alliance, understands why this match must occur, but must admit she would rather see her family wed to their fellow iron born. She does not expect a greenlander to fare well at Pyke. “Perhaps they may discuss her introduction to The Drowned God, since it is clear that it will not happen on this day.” There is something genuine about him, but she does not trust it. Perhaps he will earn it, but it will not be so freely given.