𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒　𝑡𝘩𝑒　𝑑𝑎𝑤𝑛.

darling,   it   finds   a   way   to   live   in   you.

[ironforged-a]

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

WYLLA  MANDERLY  -  liege  heir  of  white  harbor,  they/them.

introduction.   threads.   tag  navigation.

MATTHOS  TYRELL  -  lord  heir  of  highgarden,  he/him.

introduction.   threads.   tag  navigation.

[ironforged-a]

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  ?  "

[unnatvrals]

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. ❞

[ironforged-a]

"  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.  "

[aislamxnto]

"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?"

[ironforged-a]

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.

[drcgonblooded]

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. 

[ironforged-a]

"  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.  "

[prophcsy]

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.

[ironforged-a]

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  ?  "

[blccdspilt]

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."

[ironforged-a]

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.

[prophcsy]

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.

[ironforged-a]

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,  "

[ncrthron]

@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?"

[ironforged-a]

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.

[ashleysjohnson]

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"

[vaeles]

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.

[ironforged-a]

"  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  ?  "

[prophcsy]

━━  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

[ironforged-a]

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  ?  "

[drcgonblooded]

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. 

[ironforged-a]

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.

[unnatvrals]

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? ❞

[ironforged-a]

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  ?  "

[ironforged-a]

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.

[ironforged-a]

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.  "

[ironforged-a]

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  ?  "