#ironforged - multimuse created for asobai, loved by elle.

roma★
RMH

oozey mess

if i look back, i am lost
ojovivo
YOU ARE THE REASON
No title available
$LAYYYTER
we're not kids anymore.

titsay
AnasAbdin
Misplaced Lens Cap
art blog(derogatory)
styofa doing anything
Claire Keane

JBB: An Artblog!
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

No title available
Sade Olutola
wallacepolsom

seen from China

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Brazil

seen from South Korea
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Luxembourg
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from China

seen from United States
@ironforged-a
#ironforged - multimuse created for asobai, loved by elle.
open starter / with anyone, somewhere near the training grounds.
sun glistens against his skin, sweat beaded on his forehead. the day has simultaneously been long yet majorly uneventful - for one who often rises with the sun, his day has not been going to plan. an early morning hunt with some lords from the reach had resulted in nothing apart from a rabbit caught by another. some may not need to succeed at everything yet matthos always strives to be the best in any given room. his sword is lowered and put back at his side as he begins to pull himself together after training, glancing at those around the courtyard. matt flashes a grin to those who look his way and when he hears footsteps approaching from behind, he extends the same courtesy to his new company. " did you happen to catch the entire show or just the ending ? " he asks with a smirk. " or are you next to challenge me to duel ? "
amethysts look at nothing, even if they appear to be affixed to something on the table. under the sun they are unfocused, they see nothing before them. the impending doom weighs upon visenya, upon her ability to remain where she is and not let her mind float away to a better reality. it is wylla's voice that brings her back again. ❝ perhaps we should both just fill out trunks with these treats. or we could raid the kitchens, ❞ the young celtigar starts, a genuine smile appearing upon her lips. albeit a small one. visenya welcomes the comfort of the liege's company, a sibling that does not force their expectations upon her. she breaks a lemon tart apart, a bit of it between her fingers as she speaks. ❝ and you could always visit claw isle, wylla. it is not king's landing but i can vouch for the lemon tarts. ❞ visenya takes the treat into her mouth, takes the taste of it upon her tongue and closes her eyes with the untainted happiness they provide. a moment after, her eyes meet wylla's. ❝ you and your sons would be welcomed there. ❞
" would they hold their freshness on the journey ? i think it would crush me more to bring them and have them spoil before anyone is to enjoy them. " the temptation to be selfish in one's desires was compelling... to a fault. visenya's suggestion to raid the kitchen elicits a giggle. if they were younger with less worries on their mind, perhaps the teasing would be taken as a genuine challenge. maybe it is best to be on good behavior with everything king's landing has gone through in their time there. " thank you, visenya, i would love to visit claw isle... especially if you can vouch for the lemon tarts, " after their voyage home, traveling would become less common again - but the welcoming invitation gives them a warm feeling for the future. " you will still write to me, i hope ? if you ever travel north, you and your family are welcome just the same. "
"Who else would deserve such a title? The North is honoured by your crowning -- I dare not assert too greatly the fineness of your features, lest any of your admirers seek to remove my overly inflated head from the rest of my body." Edric could not help but boyishly demure at his presentation, and the kindness of Wylla's reception; a crimson flooded his cheeks, and he could only hope his helmet, guarded this display of kinship. Their private joke (thinking of their respective paramours, and Edric noting he would not wish to see Wylla's with a lance in hand) fell upon all other ears as open flattery, but falsehoods failed to be a strong deterrent, to his showmanship. "Come, have I not earned the chief place in your heart with my victory? I admit my own performance exceeded the expectations I held --- but I shall not prostrate too long, as I believe age and our doting audience, will not deter you from whacking me around my ears." He spoke mostly in jest, knowing well he, Edric Stark, was no one man army -- yet as superficial as a joust victory was wont to be, his feelings of doubt following a near detrimental rebellion, felt somewhat assuaged. "Without so much as a scratch on me, save for well, the small battle scars I've occurred from a lance or two. Do you think they will impress any maidens, should I choose to disrobe during the next banquet?"
a crown of flowers sits easily upon their head as they glance fondly at their champion, eyes beaming with pride. to win for the north is already a great feat but to watch a dear friend achieve victory is something else entirely. there is an underlying thought that while the manderly liege is not what the realm prefers for a queen of love and beauty, they have been appointed nonetheless - which widens their present smile. traveling south has reminded them how politically minded some can be and how grateful they are to have always ( for the most part ) led with their heart. as they look back at edric, they feel a shared sentiment where values are concerned but that has always been known. " you have always had a place in my heart, my lord, " voice lowered so those around do not take anything out of context. " and you did incredibly well, though i am sure many were not surprised... myself included. " with the bragging of his victory, their volume raises again. the mention of battle scars has them looking him over, dotting on edric as they would their siblings. a small bit of laughter rolls off the tongue as they give a slight shrug. " perhaps... you will certainly have your pick of maidens now, " wylla says with a cheeky grin.
It seemed Rhaella could not shrug away her bethrothed so easily. The Tyrells would not have maintained status as Lords Paramount if they were weak-willed, but a woman could dream. Just as she could dream that Highgarden was so close that it would not take weeks to get there and weeks more to get back. Ravens flew swiftly, but horses and wheelhouses were far slower. If ever urgent word came to Rhaella, by the time she was able to get to King's Landing, whatever was wrong would have passed, for good or ill.
"Thankfully, dragons can cover far more ground than a horse ever could. I will only ever be a few day's flight away." Let her stance be clear now then. She would NOT be tied down to one place. She was a Targaryen, even if she was sent away. Exiled. She had been given the gift of an egg, which was an endorsement as far as Rhaella was concerned.
But the branch extended to her? Unexpected. It was not in Rhaella's nature to question kindness, but years of her father's words finally broke through to her, all her shields made brittle by her mother's death. What did he hope to gain from her?
"My lord does me a kindness," she began, her words not as honey-smooth as she wanted. "But you do not know me. Is Targaryen madness such a gift?" There. Now she could know how he felt about her, and about her family in general. As inconceivable as it was to her that some might dislike them, perhaps it was worth finally admitting.
" yes, of course, to travel with your dragon would be much quicker. " he responds, tiptoeing the line of being too stern versus not being assertive enough. there is much information he lacks about the beasts of house targaryen, but matthos knows well enough one cannot travel if one's egg does not hatch. even so, how long would it take before setting sights on the skies ? perhaps by then, the potential disappearing act and any animosity would be a thought in the wind. he had time to develop a bond with his betrothed and dissolve any fears of adding a dragon into the situation. " i am glad to see that is something we have in common - a devotion to our families. " which would one day include their own.
matthos tyrell is a puzzle piece among a bigger picture, that much he understands. most of what his future entails are aspirations sought out by those before him. he does not mind the idea of ruling over highgarden, especially with loving his home so much. perhaps if he truly despised the plan laid out in front of him, he would push back. marriage is something he has always wanted - rhaella may not be his choice, but he will rise to the occasion as he always has. their match could grow into something enjoyable... or begin to wither from the start, that would be seen from the princess' behavior.
her words elicit a dry chuckle that follows with a shrug. " that is true, i do not know you, " he speaks with his hands, pulling them behind his back as matt tilts his head. " which i suppose is why i am trying to do so now... as for the targaryen madness ? i do not believe in fear of a fate potentially already written, " another shrug and this time, a smile. " but then again, what do the gods know ? i only ever aim to be a gentleman and i can assure you, princess, i do not scare easily. "
Gaze lifts from the ground to her old friend, this time there is no smile, but their bond is beyond pleasantries and rehearsed smiles, there is understanding between the two. "i have," unfortunately or fortunately, she was sure, the sour taste of the interaction still lingered in her mouth with a tinge of iron. she had thought getting it over would've lift that pressure from her chest. it had not. "it was an experience, for the lack of better description," that would border in saying something that might a stranger hear might put her on a hard place. "i'm sure you won't have to wait much longer, the crown prince seems quite diligent a throughout." not that she could blame him, had she suspected foul play on any of his death she too would be trying to comb the entirity of the red keep.
a quiet hum is uttered at their friend's words, the hint of a smile appearing at the slight teasing. whatever would be asked of them would be answered in truth as there was nothing of importance to admit. the only conversation piece that would cause wylla to show concern is if their warmth of house bolton was brought into questioning - not because of any lurking intentions, but what it could appear as to someone who did not understand. northern pride was not a stranger to them but even ego had a time and place. if the manderly liege would be ruler one day, they would lead as they wish their father had. perhaps kindness could have spared them from so much death.
" i hope not, even though i cannot imagine questioning every single person myself... gods, i do not envy royalty, " their heart aches for house targaryen, knowing how crushing grief could be and to do so without privacy... " is it selfish of me if i wish we could simply leave and not look back ? "
It is a relief to Alys to see a friendly face, or at least one that seems to have no designs toward interrogation or other harsh goals. Recognising the lord heir quite quickly, she does her best to make herself presentable, standing to greet him properly with a bow of her own head.
"I do not wish to disturb you," she assures him, though she hesitates, the weight of her thoughts threatening to burst forth. She seats herself again and looks up at the trees, watching as the leaves rustle. "I simply did not expect this grief to come over us all so suddenly." Alys pauses, looking down at her hands, and suddenly feeling very small. She breathes a laugh that carries more pain than humour. "You are young, so I suppose you must not understand. How humbling it is to abruptly lose one younger than yourself."
under more encouraging circumstances, the lord tyrell would have no qualms about seeing which buttons he could successfully push when it came to his company. however, exhaustion wears heavily on the heir and he does not mind a moment of quiet. there is a shred of sympathy that hangs off of his every breath. perhaps this is what is needed - to share an understanding moment between two individuals.
" oh, you could not disturb me, " the truth remains to be known but he could think of worse companions. matthos offers a reassuring grin, not being able to imagine losing someone in such a way and the overwhelming grief that follows. " i can only imagine... i suppose i will understand one day. i offer my deepest heartfelt condolences on the loss of such an incredible regent. i admit, i did not know the princess regent as well as i would have liked, but i foolishly thought we would have more time. " even if being favored by his future mother in law was something he had not prioritized, now he would never know.
The dark turn the redkeep had taken was slightly suffocating, as it was the black clothes she was now clad in, although at least the summer fashion dresses that war far more open and revealing than those of the riverlands allowed her to feel a slight freedom. with the idea of keeping her mind distracted she had wondered about the red keep, descending down the stairs of the courtyard, the sun kissing her skin was a revitalizing. it is the sound of voices that snag her attention to the others standing there, somehow finding her way in the way of a well known lord. a well polished half curtsy is given in return to his own greeting, curious hues carefully watching him. one did not missed the sword of thrones in any room, and neither had the water maiden, although they had never officially met at least not that she would recall. "i do not believe so, my lord. although we have been in my rooms at the same time before. i'm olynna of house tully," she offers, and while she knew his name quite well she would give room for him to make his own introduction.
while the truth may be known to him as to the status of their unfamiliarity, the lord plays coy. it would be unbecoming of a lord who seeks to rule should matthos not know the members of great houses, even if his current path is the heir to highgarden. always be looking over the rolling hills of the reach and toward the iron throne in the capital. whatever the lady knows of him, he does not know - but of the lady olynna, he knows enough. " ah, yes, i do admit i recognize your beauty, " a bashful response is given as he lowers his gaze, a smirk haunting his features. " it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, lady olynna of house tully. i am matthos of house tyrell. " head dips slightly with a respectful nod, though his eyes never leave her direction. " i wish we could meet under more... joyous circumstances, but it seems we deal with the cards we are dealt. could i offer you accompaniment, my lady ? one can never be too careful, "
@ironforged (wylla manderly). near the encampment of the northern houses, night.
Theron had admittedly not been prepared for events to take such a dramatic turn as they had. It seemed that one moment, they had all been enveloped in festivities; the next, the city had been draped in mourning. He could not quite decide whether it made things more interesting, or even less appealing, though he did know one thing for certain: it spelt danger for everyone.
He had seated himself by one of the roaring campfires, considering his thoughts as sparks flew into the sky, when a glint of platinum hair had caught his eye. He knew immediately who it was, and stood without thinking of it to follow, his long legs quickly catching up to the liege's stride.
"Wylla," he called, a certain tension to it. Despite the fact that they had all been camped so close together, he had hardly had an opportunity to speak to them, and so he availed himself of it now. "You ought not be walking around by yourself at this hour." He knew very well that they were more than capable of taking care of themselves, and yet he still felt a protective instinct. "Are you well?" He paused, and then added, a bit more hesitantly. "And the boys?"
crackling fires echo from the open flaps of the manderly liege's tent, something they attempt to focus on instead of the growing noise within the accommodations. theon and calon are dueling with wooden swords, their picks from the merchant stalls, the repetitive sound of sword against sword worsening an oncoming headache. " all right, you have had your fun, " wylla exclaims, stepping in between the boys to encourage them to their beds. " i let you play for a bit longer... now it is time for sleep. " any objections are met with silence, only a serious expression which the two spot instantly. stories are told and sweet words are given as they put their children to sleep. wyl lays down for what they intend to be the entire evening but as slumber evades them, they eventually find themselves up and about sometime later.
though distance from their boys will always come will worries, what they desire is some peace of their own. the surrounding tents are filled with loyal lieges who will come sprinting at a second's notice should anything go astray. plus, as the children love to convey to their parent, the two can put up quite the fight. hopefully, a walk will clear their mind enough to find sleep once more.
" theron, " they greet, slowing their pace to eventually stop next to the lord umber. his concern only comes with a roll of their eyes, though their smile gives them away. " a good thing i am no longer alone. " hands fold together, attempting to ease the butterflies in their gut. " i am well, as are the boys. they were lucky enough to fall asleep without trouble... how are you ? " many more questions linger on their tongue but there is a time for everything.
You chafed at being prevented from action. Imagine my lot. I'm a dragonrider as well, with a war being fought over my ascension. And yet, I must wait here, always prudent, sending others to fight and be felled in my name.
RHAENYRA TARGARYEN in House of the Dragon – "Regent"
the last time he had seen the boy, the child stood at the mouth of his dragon, a heavy layer of soot pressed upon his brow as smoke drifted through the air. and the spatter of enemy blood drawn from vaeles’ sword, accosting the lord’s features and seeping through his tunic, had done little to startle him from the path of sgaeyl’s black fire. the length of her bloodied teeth had been the height of him, and there had been little fear at all. during the sacking of white harbour, when the boltons had deigned to raze it, vaeles had kept theon’s body from the corpse pile — nearly the whole of his warring done with the lad pressed tight to his hip. his parent had been disquieted then, and he suspects that they are now, even if theon’s next return will be devoid of blood and fire.
‘ wyl. ’ he greets, summoning a guise which proffers them an amiable tilt of mouth, a smile too worn, stretched out and used to be anything but false in the eyes of an adult. ‘ your son was telling me that he would like to see sgaeyl again, and that he might like a dragon of his own. ’ it is too late for him to feel paternal now. whatever exists inside him that might once have been capable of nurturing a child had long since been corrupted or burned away. years of betrayal and slaughter had seen to that. so he looks upon their brood, the unburdened youth betwixt their sons invoking deep lines of a grave appearance. his voice falls another octave, the volume lowered as to hint that they might speak alone, bereft of the young boys he is careful not to alarm with talks of war. ‘ perhaps you will sail them to dragonstone one day. ’ and perhaps that day is sooner than either of them had thought.
" oh, was he ? " question is asked as their gaze locks onto their son, concern shifting to what theon seems to be after. a dragon could hardly be seen as a pet and they make a mental note to remind the children as such afterwards. may the gods grant them patience for the pure chaos that has been instilled into their boys. they get that from their father, wylla knows to be true. something during the rebellion had awoken a desire within their eldest, evident from the clear admiration he held toward vaeles. they shared a similar sentiment due to the targaryen's own interference - both within the north and with saving their son's life. at no point has the manderly liege earned a fascination to shorten the distance between themselves and a dragon.
" his excitement gets the best of him, i thank you for indulging him. " how fortunate it is that such high praises should fall on a deserving man. with all the other has done to save their loved ones, wyl could never thank him enough. targaryens may be known as gods due to their dragons, but witnessing the reflection of a northerner's spirit within the crown prince had made them a believer. " perhaps so, i do not doubt they would enjoy dragonstone, " tone deepens and a hand is put on theon's shoulder. " one must behave before they are rewarded, hm ? go on, take your brother, give us a moment to speak. " though stubbornness holds the boy frozen for a moment, he inevitably departs with the youngest - but not before waving to vaeles.
" is there something on your mind, your grace ? "
━━ special raven for lord wylla manderly, the godswood.
Death was a friend of olynna's, it had met her first as a wee child, then in her determination to be a healer she had clasp its hand, often at odds as death tried to pull from her clutches and she did her best to keep the life within her hands. perhaps not a friend, not a stranger however. not long ago it had come for one of her own, her father while old and on borrow time she had grieved as best as she could, like she knew how to. but the death of the patriarch of the dragons was like salt over her barely healed wound. reopening it, stinging, the black clothes she had worn then worn once again like armor of a war she hated fighting. she had run to the only place within the capital that would remind her of home, the godswood was the closest to the riverlands she would get.
a long sigh she looks over her shoulder as she finishes her prayers, "have you served your interrogation?" she asks her friend breaking the silence. she had been called herself into the chamber, she had hated every second of scrutiny even without though she had nothing to worry about.
@ironforged
their thumb rolls rosary beads back and forth on their index finger, absentmindedly staring up at the godswood. compared to winterfell, the sight is disappointing yet wylla enjoys the familiar colors all the same. prayer used to be something quite personal, a priority to the manderly liege whenever difficult times would befall them and those around them. now it feels as if someone else has inhabited their body, unsure how to find hope in any gods at all - like someone is playing a part. in truth, wylla had been searching for olynna and fell into old habits once the godswood came into full view. not wanting to ruin a moment of silence, they take the lady tully's lead on conversation.
" not yet, " wylla responds, attention shifting from thoughts of the old gods to how their friend is doing. " have you ? i would much rather be done with it already, " not because of their answers but the anticipation felt as if they should feel guilty of something. " how did we go from joyous celebrating to this ? "
If Rhaella could avoid the heir Tyrell for long enough, maybe he would eventually leave. Grief was a good a reason as any to postpone a wedding; how could she be expected to be a blushing bride when she had to honor her mother's legacy? The thought of trying to make a celebration in the midst of all that was happening made her slightly ill.
But avoiding a single person in the Red Keep proved impossible, no matter how large it was. A black dress could not make a Targaryen bled into the shadows.
"Lord Matthos." At least she did not have to sound pleased to see him. Exhaustion was in her tone and written on her face.
This was the man she was to wed, his words honey-sweet. It was too bad that she had never much cared for honey.
"Thank you for your condolences. I am sure they are entirely heart-felt." Of course.
"Only time can heal this wound. Time and the presence of my beloved siblings." Not leaving them behind for Highgarden.
"It is unfortunate that our union must be delayed, but proper mourning should be observed. And then the coronation."
There. Her first gamble.
their union would be no less than a challenge and matthos had learned as much from the moment he met his betrothed. as with jousting and any obstacle that came his way, the sword of thorns was not one to go down without a fight. if it was not for his mother's own betrayal by house targaryen, perhaps he could be swayed - but his family is owed and they will be repaid. he would hope to find something positive in whatever connection they would have but if she found grief a better companion, then so be it.
" it must be difficult... but it is good to have family close by, yes, i agree. " matt offers a soft grin, knowing he must pick and choose when to press a certain matter. sometimes, however, it is good to keep a focus on true goals. " thankfully, the ride from king's landing to highgarden is a smooth one with fast travels on horseback and by raven. " as well as a shorter travel distance should her egg ever hatch, though he figures that itself will be another hindrance to settle.
his eyes crease ever so slightly with a smile, nodding in response to her words. he suspects them to be honeyed, in parallel to his own, and that amuses him greatly. targaryens may not be as resistant to bonds as their beasts are. " i could not agree more, princess - what would others say if you were to upstage the king's own coronation ? " another olive branch thrown for mercy, yet teasing in nature. he goes to hammer another nail in his coffin, " i am a patient man when it comes to you, i would wait lifetimes. " not really, but the sentiment sounds nice.
where: the tyrell quarters who: lord matthos tyrell ( @ironforged )
there is a sense of security within the walls of the tyrell's quarters, bought by all that they bring to the realm, and alicent makes the most of it ⸻ however hollow that may be. with each heartbeat, the regent's untimely ( and unnatural ) death brings with it many questions and there isn't an answer for any of them.
( if the frail regent has fallen due to less than natural means, just how safe is a lord betrothed to a smaller dragon? )
the rose of highgarden sits comfortably at a table, fruit for the picking before her ⸻ each segment from a sweet orange and taken and tasted brings with it less and less patience, waiting for someone that does not even know he's late. her heel clicks on the floor over and over, impatience running thick underneath her skin. where could her damned brother be? and then, the echo of familiar steps makes lips pucker. the turn of the door's handle makes cat-like eyes fly from the peeled orange to the figure that walks through.
for a moment, alicent stares. ❝ took you long enough to retire to your chambers, brother, ❞ she starts, thorns all over her words as a smirk grows on her lips. then, her attention turns back to the orange in her hands, ❝ were you comforting your bride to be? ❞
how others are perceived often matters more than anything the truth could offer. with the regent's passing came mourning and whatever his betrothed would need, the lord's own feelings on the matter irrelevant. he keeps himself busy, now more than ever, wanting to appear as a rock in such devastating times. matthos has never been one to shy away from a good performance.
he finds himself exhausted and matt stomps his way toward the house tyrell chambers, only the thought of resting his eyes on his mind. the crowds of people making their way throughout the red keep has caused him to desire nothing but peace. for a second, as he pushes the door open, he suspects he is in the clear from any potential obstacles - until alicent's voice has him suddenly glaring in her direction. how foolish of him to desire something so impossible as quiet.
" have you been waiting for me, sister ? " words thick with their usual sweetness, always ready to strike under the surface. even had he known of alicent's waiting, it would not have caused him to walk faster. " i was, yes, offering my deepest sympathies... it would be wise for you to do the same if you have not already done so, " the tyrell lord crosses the room to join his darling sister at the table. " what is on your mind ? "
closed starter / with visenya celtigar ( @aechor ), seated at a table in an isolated area within the gardens.
birds chirp overhead as the two enjoy an afternoon brunch, complete with some of their favorite desserts. wylla slides a tray of lemon cakes in visenya's direction as they retrieve one of their own favorites from another plate, a blackberry tart. the manderly liege tilts their head back to glance up at the sky and take in the warmth of the sun on their skin. " the chefs here make a magnificent treat, " they finally break the silence only to return to the tart in their hand. how exquisite everything in the capital must be... it only hastens their present distaste. " they do in white harbor as well but our fruit is never this fresh. " fruit itself was rare the further north one traveled, yet merchant ships would sometimes make the journey in time for certain fruits to ripen. " i think, besides seeing certain faces, i will miss these the most when we leave. " wylla finishes the dessert and leans forward, reaching for their goblet to wash the food down.
closed starter / with rosemund tully ( @shesnakes ), walking through the red keep corridors.
how wylla misses the days of their youth, running wild about the riverlands without a care in the world. they yearn for that most days or any familiarity of such a fond time. for that reason and more, rosemund's company is a comfort that the manderly liege wishes to bask in. " calon has a bow now, " something that troubles them from time to time but will benefit the boys in the long run. as much as they wish they could know their protection of their sons would always be enough, wylla wants them to be able to protect themselves should war ever repeat. " edric gifted it to him... reminded me of when i first learned from you, " a smile follows their words. " in truth, i think a part of me will always remain there in those memories. i am grateful to have them, " they lift their gaze to meet the lady tully's and give another grin. " now, enough of my troubles - tell me of how you have been. "
closed starter / with olynna tully ( @audacioussly ), in the red keep's exterior courtyard.
the clanging of metal echoes throughout the courtyard as people come and go, some lingering about within the influx of others. matthos watches as a young squire assists with the removal of his armor after a long day on horseback. his jaw tenses up as the quickened movement tugs harshly at imported leather and when the behavior occurs again, the lord tyrell swats him away. " enough of your help, have this cleaned, " he hisses, shoving his helm into the squire's hand. matt lets out a deep sigh as the boy disappears from view. when he finally glances up, peering at the red keep's doors, he spots an unfamiliar woman descending the stairs. " good afternoon, my lady, " matthos greets with a bow of his head and an accompanying smile. " say, have we met before ? "