𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒔.

[hellbcunds]

a  dependent multi - muse  blog, written for  dragonsrot  as penned by 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐲 . do not interact if you're not in the rpg.

catelyn baratheon ; app . intro. interactions. lysara stark nee arryn ; app . intro. interactions. rickard redwyne ; app . intro. interactions. tharion lannister ; app . intro. interactions.

[highonour]

"You always have been combative." What might be a scathing rebuke of anybody else, coming from Alayne, sounds only like affection now. Perhaps it is hypocritical of her, to allow her sister grace where she would not anyone else, but it is her right, for she watched Lysara grow up, as opposed to growing up with her. Not as a mother, for whom she had to discipline and prepare, but as a guardian, a role model, a sister, a friend. Who else in the world is there for Alayne to indulge if not her? "Gods forbid I be labelled rude." Brows arch dramatically, dark chuckle escaping her at the mere suggestion. (She has been called far worse during council meetings, in truth.) Little attention is paid to the wandering gazes and whispers exchanged as they progress toward the doors, aware as she is of the infamy still afforded to her dismissal, all those moons ago. "And I you. It is the only benefit of this celebration, if you ask me: that we are reunited once again." Even if their sister remains imprisoned, goes the bitter addendum. So close, yet so far.

[hellbcunds]

" and i always will be. if time and children didn't dull that, nothing will. " though her edges were certainly blunter for her children, entirely soft but stern. they were equally softer for her nieces and nephews, her heart only growing to hold them al within it. the softness for her sister, however? that had always been there, always would be. she couldn't erase years of looking up and seeing the example presented before her, the greatness that alayne herself exuded. " being rude to your favourite sister should actually be a crime. " she's straight backed as they leave, uncaring of whatever whispers follow them, though it does have that endless anger bubbling within her, simmering on her behalf. it settles only at the niceties, her smile a bright thing. " i have to agree considering there's been little other benefit. the only thing that would make it better is if all of us were together. " she drops her voice then as they start to make their way through the castle. " hence why we're going to go see if we can sneak in. "

[northernseer]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

EMERALD ORBS REMAIN LOCKED on the intricate fabric of her gown, head tilting ever so slightly as though that would aid her assessment. it truly was beautiful. a smile further tugs at heart shaped lips, hues flickering towards the features of her aunt for a singular beat before settling back on her dress. ❝ i figured as much. ❞ raya lets out, voice soft and silky. ❝ it pleases my husband to see me in his colors... i suppose that alone is a stronger argument than your - distaste for red, aunt. ❞ bright hues flicker away from the dress, finding the curled up ball of brown upon the bay of her chamber's window. a soft laugh slips past her lips, head shaking slightly. ever the blunt one, her auntie lysara. ❝ well... if they do not have a gown that is entirely to their liking then perhaps we could have them made. ❞

[hellbcunds]

" blame your good father for that. " she can't help the roll of her eyes, her distaste, hardly a secret when it came to her family. such a vast contrast to even five years ago when she'd thought alys and maelor were perfect, a couple so in love no one could deny they were gods made for each other. " i love red when it's a wine. " she quips in return, eyes alight in amusement. " well, i hope he returns the favour and wears your colours in return. it would send a good message of unity, and it would be rather sweet of the pair of you. " she glances over her shoulder with a smile, though she doesn't expect to find her nieces gaze when she looks. she's long since stopped questioning that avoidance. " don't worry, i've sewn some fur trim to their gowns, they'll be plenty pleased. "

[soulrcts]

just  a  few  years  ago,  she  would  have  found  herself  charmed.  calanthe  would  have  allowed  the  affection  to  linger,  would  have  encouraged  it  and  made  the  suggestion  of  taking  time  to  themselves  following  the  competition.  now,  her  smile  was  blithe  in  nature,  hand  returning  to  settle  in  her  lap,  one  over  the  other.  “  indeed.  especially  with  how  many  have  answered  the  king's  call,  ”  muses  in  return,  though  they  both  knew  it  had  little  to  do  with  it.  “  has  she  ?  was  it  a  difficult  pregnancy  ?  or  perhaps  your  travels  ?  ”  little  was  known  of  his  wife,  what  news  calanthe  heard  of  mirelle  lannister  came  in  the  form  of  snippets  of  conversation,  a  small  convey  sent  to  the  rock  in  celebration  when  tyrek  had  been  announced  to  the  realm  but  nothing  more.  a  woman's  intuition  gave  suspicion  that  strange  was  not  the  word  tharion  searched  for,  but  men  often  could  not  name  what  was  clear  in  their  face.  “  jessamyn  is  doing  well,  having  just  reached  her  ten  and  sixth  birthday.  she  is  with  her  brother  in  the  stables  at  this  moment.  “  the  answer  was  smooth,  hands  lifting  to  start  to  place  pieces  on  the  board.  "  my  beloved  husband  does  spend  his  time  here  as  needed  with  his  position  on  the  council,  however,  king's  landing  is  not  so  far  from  home.  distance  is  not  taxing  when  there  are  other  means  of  communication.  "       

[hellbcunds]

it's strange how things can change so completely. he'd been the architect for his own demise when it came to the difference in them now, placing the first bricks when he had finally married and chosen to focus on creating a family of his own. then distance had pulled and pulled, the wall stacking higher until it stopped them completely. " it's almost as though we all received the same summons. " he remarks dryly, wry smile on his face, the truth of the matter an open secret that didn't need saying. he nods his head thoughtfully, gaze far away from her. " the birth was difficult. i hardly think it was me, i don't travel far when she's in the later months and she's not said anything about it. " he shrugs, unwilling to admit even to her that he was at quite a loss of what to do in such a situation. " and how is garmon? " his question is more loaded, more curious as he always would be for his boy. he still hated that damn name though, far too reachman for his liking even if it had been a necessity. tharion scoffs quietly at that, quiet annoyance rising within him as it tends to if he ever lets himself think about her marriage. " letters don't keep you warm at night, calanthe. sounds like a terrible compromise to me. "

[wispygrace]

setting; training yard @hellbcunds

lancel brought down another blow. the mace crashed into the training dummy with a splintering thud, sending straw bursting from its seams. he drew a ragged breath through his teeth and swung again, shoulders rolling. he pressed after it relentlessly, enjoying the pursuit as much as the blow itself. there was satisfaction in driving something before him, in forcing it back inch by inch until it could no longer stand. at last the post cracked. the dummy toppled into the dirt in a rain of straw and splinters. only then did lancel lower the mace, his chest heaved as sweat trickled down his brow and along the sharp line of his jaw.

the weight of the mace hung comfortably in his hand, familiar as an old friend. he planted its head upon the ground and stopped for a moment's rest. training reminded him how to win. it was an easy lesson to forget amidst ledgers and accounts.

 as the master of coin, he often found himself longing for enemies he could simply strike down. no expense spared, maelor had said. those three words had cost lancel more sleep than any tourney. as his breathing steadied, his thoughts returned unwillingly to columns of figures and dwindling reserves. wine from the arbor. musicians from dorne. dancers from lys. every smiling lord and lady expected extravagance, and extravagance demanded coin, coin that had to come from somewhere. lancel grimaced and then he laughed. a bitter sound escaped him as he imagined the treasury's condition once the festivities were done. somehow he would make it work. he always did. it was then he noticed the figure standing nearby, a flash of crimson and gold caught the corner of his eye. tharion lannister no doubt. lancel turned toward him, resting both hands atop the pommel of his mace. 

"tharion." the name left his lips easily enough, void of warmth.

"you should have announced yourself. another moment and i might have mistaken you for something worth hitting." his gaze drifted between tharion and the shattered dummy "though the resemblance is striking."

[hellbcunds]

for several long moments, tharion simply stands off to the side of the training grounds, watching. the sight of the master of coin's face is one he's hauntingly familiar with, made worse by the fact that there were two of those fuckers. he's seen it through all phases of life. from boyhood when they'd both been far younger, learning all that it meant to be a lord in this world. from teenage years when the world started to open to them, and his face became expected at the other end of a jousting field. through narrowed glares across a ballroom at every wedding in the west when he heard whispered of their growing wealth and ambition. through red hot anger when he'd killed his father, had effectively opened up the slot on the council only for lancel to swoop in and get it handed to him. his face is almost as familiar to him as his own, and yet the quiet rage at the sight of him never fades.

tharion can't help the smirk when he's finally acknowledged, arms folded as he perceives him. " lancel. " he greets in return, simple and just as devoid of warmth as his own. he couldn't stomach it for the man, even when he was being terribly polite. " how unfortunate, i would have enjoyed doling out your punishment for striking your ruling lord unprovoked. " perhaps he could even get away with taking his hand for such an action. he'd enjoy watching him try to count coin with only one hand. he strides forward easily, gaze settling on the pommel of the mace for a moment before flicking back up to his face. " the festivities are magnificent, lan. do let me know if you require a loan to afford it all, though. a lannister is always happy to help the realm. "

[tridcntspearl]

Closed Starter for @hellbcunds

── .✦ Alysanne had expected to find Ser Redwyne somewhere near the training yard, covered in dust and sweat, with swordsmanship occupying his every thought. Instead, finding him anywhere else entirely had caught her off guard.

“I must confess, I am beginning to question my decision-making.” She looked him over with a mixture of amusement and feigned concern. “Are you not supposed to be practicing? I should hope that if a fight breaks out, a knight intends to do more than simply arrive with a sword and a hopeful expression.”

Her expression softened into a small smile as she tilted her head slightly. “If not for the honor of the king, then perhaps for the sake of all those who have foolishly placed their coin upon you.”

[hellbcunds]

he took his post very seriously despite his usual demeanour. it's why he's stood so solemnly on the edge of the ballroom, hand on the hilt of his sword as he surveys the masquerade. his own mask does very little to hide his identity, the fact that he was still in his usual regalia even less so. the woman before him he can't quite say the same about, only alerted to her identity when he recognizes the voice he hears cheering his name at tourneys. " should i abandon my post, my lady? i doubt my king would be very pleased with that, nor would it particularly honourable. a knight's best trait, in my humble opinion. but rest assured, if a fight broke out here and now, it is not hope that would sway my victory. " he places his hand over his heart, grin on his features and teasing clearly showing in his tone. " you shouldn't call yourself a fool, my lady. i know you've spent plenty of your coin on me. won plenty of it back too, if i remember correctly. "

[illuminvtes]

"i can't say i'm surprised," errick drawled, the corner of his mouth tugging into a knowing grin as his attention drifted from princess rhaella back to the sea of spectators below. "though i will admit i'm impressed. convincing the lord commander to put you on this watch, of all watches, is no small feat."

he glanced sidelong at his fellow knight, amusement glinting in his eyes.

"come now, don't keep the rest of us in the dark. how'd you manage it? blackmail? bribery? or have you finally learned to look innocent?"

[hellbcunds]

he can't help the roll of his eyes as he watches his friend's gaze move at last away from their princess, his own knowing smile settling upon his mouth. a scoff follows shortly afterward, boyish amusement taking precedence instead. " who said i had to convince anyone? perhaps it is simply known that my presence would be best on this watch. " and if his gaze flicked between his king and the dancers a fair few time, could he really be blamed? he was only a man. gaze flicks back to his friend then, head inclined. " ah, you should know by now that i am the lord commander's favourite. i wouldn't know what it feels like not to be highly favoured, but perhaps one day it will not sting as much. "

[soulrcts]

“  i  thought  there  would  be  more  wine,  ”  viserra  says  quietly  from  behind  him,  mirth  tinting  her  words.  the  need  to  stretch  her  legs  before  the  next  performance,  pausing  to  greet  the  familiar  faces  she  had  been  whisked  away  from  earlier  in  the  day  to  sit  with  her  parents.  half  cuddled  up  next  to  her  mother  for  the  majority  of  it,  entertained  endlessly  but  the  youngest  had  always  had  some  difficulty  in  sitting  still  for  hours.  viserra  longed  for  something  sweet  and  perhaps  a  quick  respite  to  rest  her  cheeks  that  had  begun  to  ache  from  the  attempt  to  keep  smiling.  “  dornish  red.  they  say  it  rivals  even  that  of  your  family's  grapes,  rickard.  ”  

[hellbcunds]

he can't help the unlordly snort that escapes him at her retort, always tending to be surprised when viserra made such quips. his own fault really for sometimes still thinking of her as the young princess he'd first met. " perhaps they're saving it for later in the day so that the nobbles don't get rowdy too early. " not that he would have the pleasure of partaking, needing to wait until later in the evening when he was relieved of his duty for the night. his mouth pops open at her statement, turning blue hues upon her as he raised a hand over his heart. " those that say such a thing are blasphemous fools. nothing is better than an arbor red, i can't believe you would make such a statement in my presence, princess. "

[northernseer]

°❀.ೃ࿔*

THERE'S A DANGEROUSLY THRILLING ripple of amusement that dances beneath janna's ribs. the capital was a beautifully wrapped box of vipers... and the dragon king had just trampled their nest. filtering through the tightly packed rows of nobility, lithe frame all but glides toward the royal dais with a slow, measured and deliberate gait. jeweled fan clicks rhythmically against her palm. doe like orbs do not look at the king, nor does she pay any mind to the ghostly pale queen. instead, janna redwyne's dark hues remain locked onto the familiar, striking figure standing clad in the unblemished white wool and silver scales of the kingsguard. even in full regalia, with his hand resting idly on the pommel of his sword and his eyes tracking the pretty lyseni imports on the stage, he was still the boy she had chased through the vineyards of the arbor. a whole year younger, yet now he stood as a shield for dragons. janna stops just close enough to his flank, her presence announced only by the distinct, sweet fragrance of crushed summer plums and rosewater that often trails in her wake. a low, melodic laugh spews from full lips, one that barely carries over the strumming of the lutes. she tilts her head just enough to catch his profile. ❝ let us hope the dornish musicians bring something with a bit more... bite.❞ fan flutters open, partially concealing the knowing curve of her lips as doe like hues flicker toward the empty spaces where the nobles of house arryn should have been standing. ❝ though i fear his grace has already provided all the entertainment the court can truly stomach for one morning, little brother. ❞

[hellbcunds]

while he was always happy to enjoy whatever celebrations the king decided to host, his favourite part would always be getting to see most of his family. when he'd left the arbor in anger, his nose turned up towards his father and elder brother, that animosity had never extended towards his other siblings. especially not janna. his elder by only a year, practically a twin, he had missed her the most when he had come to king's landing and started his service to the king.

the sight of her approach has a warm smile carving his mouth, eyes soft for her as he gazes downward. " oh, i'm sure they will. i heard them warming up their instruments earlier and i expect to see some dancing later. right now though, the lyseni dancing is plenty of entertainment for us all. " for rickard was a weak man, always had been when it came to pretty things. it had started in childhood, for trinkets and gilded weaponry. it had extended in young adulthood to wine and silk clothing on his skin. now, it extended to people despite the vows he had sworn. his smile fades slightly at the mention of what the king had announced earlier, mouth pressing firmly shut. he wishes that he could defend his king the way he would like to, certain that perhaps if people only knew what he knew that perhaps they would be more understanding. still, it did not stop the slightly uneasy feeling in his stomach over it all. " yes, i'm sure people will be twittering about it for the rest of the week unless something more eventful happens. i would recommend staying away from the gossip if i were you, dear sister. "

[sherotten]

open   starter   for   :   𝘥𝘰𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯 𝘵𝘺𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘭   &    𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯   [   capping    at    0    /    3    ] location   &   time   :   𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩   𝘥𝘢𝘺   ,    𝘵𝘩𝘦   𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥   𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭   .

the  past  days  had  been  filled  to  the  brim  with  tournaments  ,  celebrations  and  what  one  could  call  a  good  festive  time  .  the  hand  of  the  king  had  been  close  to  his  grace  most  of  it  ,  yet  there  were  settings  where  his  words  could  not  reach  the  king  either  .  standing  against  the  grand  hall's  cold  stone  wall  ,  he  watches  as  a  play  is  being  put  forth  by  travellers  .  his  hand  holding  a  goblet  of  red  and  onyx  locks  are  lose  down  his  back  .  carnelian  orbs  see  someone  approach  and  with  a  gentle  nod  of  his  head  ,  he  is  courtly  .  “  it's  a  nice  play  is  it  not  ?  it's  depicting  the  former  riders  is  it  not  ?  ”  a  tilt  of  his  head  as  he  studies  it  ,  before  turning  his  hues  to  his  newfound  companion  .  “  i  wonder  ,  should  we  allow  this  ?  im  afraid  sadness  would  spread  amongst  our  royal  court  .  ” 

[hellbcunds]

she'd been looking for an empty seat when coming to observe the play, eager to see what stories the performers had to tell. she'd always loved the arts, the king's celebration certainly appealing to her with every new extravagant layer divulged. one of the few spare seats lay next to the hand of the king, catelyn all to accustomed to his presence in court to balk upon standing beside him. " i'm not sure yet, lord hand. i was a little late to arrive. i did hear it was telling the history of the riders though and couldn't miss it. " she frowns slightly at the reminder of what happened to the last of the dragons, remembers the anguish that swept through the keep when the final one drew it's last breath. " i think it would be within your rights if you did, lord hand. only you or our king could make such a decision. "

[hellbcunds]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃: viserra targaryen ( @soulrcts )

there's a soft smile on her features as she sits with the other ladies of the court, enjoying the music that plays from he dornishman on the stage, all the realm around them. well, all the realm except for house arryn. her brow had furrowed at the dismissal, had worried her slightly, but she trusted that whatever the king was doing, surely there must be some reason. some treachery that catelyn simply wasn't needing an awareness of. though to see he queen amongst them, see certain princesses happy? well, cat didn't linger on it too long, instead distracted by blonde hair and laughter and the most beautiful smile she's ever seen. she observes for a long while before opportunity finds her in the presence of the youngest dragon, her smile a wide thing. " my princess. it's lovely to see you so happy today. "

[balfeys]

#can you hearing me sweating loudly? #JHRC 🔥 🔥

[bareruin]

in the following days, after the performance attended by alys.

by the time he finds lysara, the lord is in a thoroughly disagreeable mood. the melee had left its mark; not a grievous injury, but a humbling one all the same. his steps are measured as he approaches, at last coming to settle a careful shoulder against stone. they never had required much of one another where greetings were concerned, so robar returns to their conversation on the balcony with ease. a paltry attempt at levity. " at least petyr did me the courtesy of a swift loss. alayne may well have taken up his sword had it been me to knock him in the dirt. " years had passed since last they shared in one another's company, years since she'd traded her place in the vale for vast expanse and a northern match. yet the sight of her remains familiar. more familiar is her anger. at least she won't have to guess whether or not it's shared between them. the king's fresh insult remains at the forefront of his mind, so says the long silence that follows. elsewhere, a feast drones on without them. " if this is the cost of peace, i find i have lost the taste for it. "

[hellbcunds]

her mood is as unstable as a storm, raging and winding within her, treacherous for those that came too close. she'd already let her tongue lash at anyone who had come across her when she'd stormed away from the courtyard upon the king's announcement. now, her storm still raged but her body stilled, hand pressed into the wall as the other digs into her hips. for him, the storm hardly ceases, but simply allows him into the eye of it, knowing that he understood what she was feeling all too well. lysara ignores the small talk, merely stares at the wall for several moments longer before he speaks again. " i've not had the taste for it for months. for a year in fact. " for she may be a stark now, but she would always remain just as much arryn. she'd never wanted to marry into the north, well as it turned out. she would have been far more content remaining in the vale with someone she loved and had chosen herself, close to her sisters and their children. finally, she drops her hand from the wall, turning her body to face him fully. " we can't allow it, rob. it's gone on long enough already. "

[hellbcunds]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃: aemon targaryen ( @dragnbane )

" this is madness, aemon! " she at least had some sense to wait until they were alone, devoid of any possible ears or eyes that could be on them, door shut firmly as she fumed. she knows that it is by no means her nephews fault, that any possibility of him controlling his father was nil. still, she was sick of her sister's children sitting by and letting things happen as if it were normal. " madness. he is acting as though we're the enemy to our own flesh and blood! " she raves, hand flying as if to articulate her point. finnally, she huffs, hands settling on her hips as she pins her gaze on her nephew. " is there something we don't know, aemon? he never used to be like this. "

[illuminvtes]

errick heard the approach long before the footsteps reached him. instinct had him shifting immediately, placing himself between the newcomer and the balcony where princess rhaella sat amongst her ladies. years in white had honed the reaction into second nature; by the time he turned, his posture was already rigid, shoulders squared, hand resting near the pommel at his hip.

recognition did little to soften him.

even as he took in his brother's familiar features and the young nephew nestled against his chest, errick's expression remained carefully neutral, every inch the kingsguard standing his watch.

"tharion," he greeted evenly.

his gaze flicked briefly to the child before returning to his brother.

"i assume you're here for a reason. what is it you need?"

[hellbcunds]

he can't help but chuff a laugh as he watches the way his brother moves, a protector of dragons now rather than lions. it's a strange thing to witness, yet not unexpected considering how long he's been in the king's employ now. he can't help the little bit of pride at his lack of softness, pleased to see that the years had hardened him, made him stronger. he shifts his son in his arms just slightly, smirk on his features. " who said i needed anything? has it become a crime to simply converse with my brother? " brows raise, gaze settled firmly upon his younger. errick had always been half a stranger to him, tharion always far too busy for games in his childhood, too focussed on pleasing their father and doing his duty. now, he faced a lion untamed, uncontrolled, unsure of what he could do with him. " i thought i might introduce you to to your nephew given you did not bother to return home for his first name day. "

[hellbcunds]

" beautiful day for a performance like this. " rickard murmurs it to his closest company, dressed in full regalia and hardly far from his king. his hand is settled idly on the hilt of his sword, gaze flicking between his king and the dancers from lys writhing upon the stage. he'd always been a weaker man in that sense, not entirely able to tear his gaze away from something pretty. he's still on full alert though, especially with queen alys sat at her husband's side for a change. his smile is a warm thing to see all the targaryens in public again, a family, even in uncertain times as this. his gaze flicks briefly to his company, smile still a happy one. " personally, i'm looking forward to the musicians from dorne later. "

[bareruin]

avan sat straight backed and sober in the stands, though his attention had drifted some time ago. the performance had been heralded as a tribute to house stark, and he had resigned himself to enduring it with polite indifference. his aunt's words roused him from his stupor. plainly enough, the man’s thoughts had been anywhere but here. " well, they've studied our histories, " he adjusted his posture, eyes remaining fixed on the stage as he breathed the words. a moment of consideration passed before he rose, solemn faced, offering her his hand. " come, " their departure would draw looks, invite whispers of northern discourtesy. so be it. he’d had enough of wooden swords and poorly lilted words for one day. " far be it from me to stand between you and an arbor red. "

[hellbcunds]

despite all her years in the north, lysara would always be more arryn than she was stark. the coldness that she presented may fool people to think otherwise, think that it was the ice of he north that made her like that. but it was the cold winds of the eyrie, the chill of high altitude. it was the love she held for the wolves she'd birthed and the ones she'd known since childhood that made her soft for her house, made her prideful of it's history. it wasn't enough to keep her ass glued to it's seat, however. " happily. " she quips, taking her nephews hand as they rise, ignoring any gazes that fall on them. " if you tried, i'd perhaps take one of those wooden swords and beat you with it. " her teasing smile betrays her, showing the jest beneath her words as they step down from the stands, spine relaxing with every step away from prying eyes. " speaking of, someone stole from my stash on the way here. you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you ? "